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... of stone scattered everywhere like overcooked breadcrumbs, like really...really overcooked.

Screams echoed faintly ahead, but she barely registered them. She rolled her neck, cracked her knuckles, and adjusted the grip on the sword strapped to her waist. Not that she needed it— her fists were more than enough to handle most problems.

A half-dead man groaned on the floor, she quickly unsheathed and ended his pain. Blood started to come out from a straight line across his neck, and ...

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__

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My head quickly snapped up.

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His fingertips skimmed along my inner wrist.