A shout cut through the smoke and Lyra’s internal struggle. “There! On the wall!”
Arrows sliced through the air. One whined past Lyra’s cheek, another skidded past Riven’s hip. He winced as he crouched low. Lyra looked back. The wolves chasing them were nearing the midway point of the wall. They were running now, fast black shapes silhouetted against the orange light. They ran at their full height, not worried about the arrows that plagued the pair’s attempt at escape.
She turned to Riven. “Go,” she said quickly, fumbling to try to put herself between him and the coming wolves. “I’ll cover you.
He laughed, the sound hoarse and incredulous as he refused to allow her to move around him. “You’ll, what? Throw bad language at them?”
“I have a knife,” she snapped, pulling it out of her bel
