Mist's Edge (The Broken Lands #2) - T.A. White Page 0,23

hand clasped securely in hers. One by one, his men followed as they progressed slowly through the mist. Much slower than the pace Shea had set on her journey in. It was a necessary precaution with such a long chain of people.

Fallon was a silent presence at her side, as if he sensed that she needed quiet. That her connection was tenuous at best and she needed her focus. Though she couldn’t see him nor he her, she could almost feel his eyes boring into her back. It was a comforting sensation as they crept through the haze.

*

So focused on that tug leading her out of the mist, Shea almost didn’t notice when the haze thinned. Such an imperceptible change at first, that it was easy to miss. Only the slight flex in Fallon’s hand around hers warned her.

She looked back, noticing she could see his form and face almost without hindrance for the first time in hours. Her eyes drifted to those beyond his shoulder. Three others, including Braden, were visible as well.

Good. This meant they were close to being out of this infernal haze.

A renewed sense of hope lent speed to her footsteps. The forest, the same one she’d been in before the mist, towered above them. A silent testament to their success.

It didn’t take long before Shea began to hear the sounds of the forest around them. It was only then that she realized how oppressive the silence in the mist had been. A forest is never quiet. There is always some sort of sound, whether that be the sound of branches rustling in the wind, birds calling to each other, or the hum of insects.

Now that she could hear that song again, she felt that tight spot in her chest loosen. Not all the way, but it wasn’t wound as tight as before. She doubted it would totally relax until she’d confirmed Eamon and his group had made it out as well.

Still, she hung onto Fallon’s hand until the mist had disappeared, not even leaving a faint memory of its presence.

“We should be safe now. You can tell your men to untie the rope.”

Fallon’s serious eyes studied her and then the air around them. Coming to the same conclusion she had, that the mist was no longer a danger, he nodded and turned to give the order. “You can untie but stay close. I want everyone to be within a few feet of each other in case this becomes a problem again.”

Shea didn’t take offense to his hesitation. She would have done the same in his situation. The mist was unlikely to make another appearance, but stranger things had happened.

She stepped away and peered over her shoulder, only dimly aware of his men’s movements as they shrugged out of the rope they’d tied to themselves. She stared at the path behind them, questions swimming in her mind.

“What are you thinking?” Fallon asked, coming to stand beside her.

Shea was quiet for a long moment as she composed her thoughts. Used to the way she tended to hesitate before speaking, Fallon waited.

“I’m thinking that this shouldn’t have happened.”

His eyes shifted to her. “How so?”

“It’s been so long since the mist appeared this far into the Lowlands that even my people only have second and third hand accounts of it ever happening. Those accounts come from records hundreds of years old. I don’t think anyone living near here has ever experienced it.”

“You’re worried that Airabel is going to suffer losses.” He made a guess, but it was a good one. He’d become used to the way her mind worked since their relationship had deepened.

She made a ‘hmm’ sound. Yes, part of her regretted the inevitable deaths that would occur simply because the Lowlanders didn’t know how to survive the mist.

But a bigger part of her questioned why this was happening at all. First, she’d run afoul of the frostlings, a being not seen since the last cataclysm, that had killed several while putting the rest of the expedition to sleep. Now this, an event that hadn’t been seen in these parts for several generations. Something was wrong in the Broken Lands. Something dark and dangerous.

It could be that this was some freak occurrence. That the mist, the frostlings, and others of its ilk wouldn’t be a concern in the future. A sinking feeling in the pit of Shea’s stomach said that would be a false assumption. She had a feeling all of these events were symptoms of a bigger