I couldn't focus enough to see her face, to truly register the grim set of her jaw or the strain in her eyes, but I could feel the rhythmic, heavy cadence of her breath, a deep, ragged rumble resonating from her heaving chest.
Her shoulders trembled sporadically beneath me, a constant, low vibration of extreme effort, and her knees occasionally buckled, threatening to give way beneath us both.
Is she... really strong enough?
The question surfaced, not as articulated words, not a conscious thought formed with logic, but as a silent, desperate plea, a raw, primal feeling that resonated in the depths of my fading consciousness. It was a cold dread twisting in my gut.
I wanted to pry my eyes open, to force a sound past my parched, cracked lips, to ask,
Selene, are you truly alright? Can you keep going? Should you even be carrying me?
