Igma;
My vision blurs as I shove every and anything my mind manages to whisper that I may need into my bag.
I could wait. I could plan. It's the logical thing to do, but I do not have the luxury of time for that right now.
I tried to deny it. I acted strong and kept telling myself that I was just letting my worry get the better of me.
But that wasn't it. I could feel it in my heart. How weak Alana was getting. From cries to whispers, now to this faint pull against our bond.
She's dying. And what Bram said was all I needed to snap out of my delusions and get moving.
At least now, I know where she is.
I can't stop the worry and guilt slowly drowning me.
How much have they taken from her already? How much time does she have left?
How much longer before the bond between us finally snaps for good?
I stop when I realise that I've been shoving clothes into my bag, and I let out a breath before yanking them back out. I don't need this many clothes.
