EIGHTEEN
ANNABEL
Dark clouds whirled above me, barely visible as a swathe of charcoal gray through the blanket of heavy rain pelting down on me.
“Annabel!”
I jerked at the frantic sound of my name and saw Saga come running toward me from several hundred yards away. As far as I could tell, we were in a flat and wide valley, hills rising to our left and—in the far distance—white-tipped mountains rising to the right. A far cry from the rocky woodland we’d made camp in.
“What’s the hell?” I muttered, squinting against the rain to try to make sense of my surroundings.
“The dam is breaking! Get her out of here!” Saga roared, and despite the distance, the sheer panic in his voice carried loud and clear.
Large hands clasped my shoulders, pulling on me.
“Let’s go,” Bjarni growled.
“What’s
