Opal's POV —
The cold wasn't just around her anymore—it was in her. Deep in her bones, sinking into the marrow. It clawed into her chest with every breath she dragged in, sharp as glass, slicing her lungs open from the inside out. It didn't just bite at her anymore. It devoured.
Every step was agony. The pads of her paws were shredded, bleeding and raw, torn by ice, rock, and frozen brush. She couldn't tell if the burning she felt was from cold or from the fire tearing up her legs with every stride—probably both. Her limbs shook violently, every muscle trembling with overexertion, every joint screaming. Her whole body was one breath away from collapse. Weakness engulfed her like a flame.
But she didn't stop.
She couldn't.
Stopping meant death. And worse than death—capture.
Capture would mean her escape was for nothing.More pain would follow.
