Adelaide ran without looking back, her lungs burning, her legs shaking. Her eyes were wide with terror, and she was barely aware of her surroundings. Her heart pounded louder than the cries echoing inside her head. When she reached the edge of the village, she spotted Flint just stepping out of a house with a torch in hand.
“Flint!” she cried, her voice breaking. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Flint!”
Flint turned quickly, eyes narrowing when he saw the fear in her face. “Aunt Adelaide? What happened?”
She stumbled toward him, and when she finally reached him, she collapsed against his chest. He caught her and held her steady. As he did, he noticed the bruises forming around her neck—finger-shaped, purple and angry.
“Auntie,” he said, panic rising in his voice, “Who did this to you?”
