It seemed to take forever, but she grasped control of her limbs, stopped walking, if she was walking at all. Fir’s eyes clouded with tears, fracturing the not-light, and she wrenched her head away.

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  Before she knew it she was running, running once more into the unknown, forcing her feet to remain in the centre of the path, for once content with the draining Unquiet, knowing that Unquiet was not the worst thing she had to fear.

  The worst thing she had to fear was looking back.