The archers stared at him, their faces a mix of relief and exhaustion.
They had just ridden through the forest at impossible speed, their bodies still trembling from the experience, their minds still processing what had happened.
Some of them were still gripping the horns of the Horned Olfs, their knuckles white, their eyes wide.
Others had already dismounted and were standing on solid ground, their legs shaking, their faces pale.
Seren looked at Darion and said,
"Better than last time." Her voice was light, but there was a hint of genuine relief in it.
She had ridden an undead before, and the memory of that experience had been fresh in her mind.
This time, she had managed to stay upright and conscious, which was already an improvement.
They all went to the castle. The walk was short, the familiar walls of Percvale rising before them.
The hunt was over. The training was done. And they had all survived.
