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Seventeen
Seventeen Brice refused to think of anything but moving. He focused on Keelin’s boots, a pace in front of his own. He ignored the wet leaves that slapped his face, and the smell coming from Cathal. He pushed aside the noises of the storm and the forest and whatever followed them in the trees. And he only looked up when Ryann sussed. Before them stood a concrete block, slightly larger than a Proteus. But where their craft had curves and angles, the hold-out was a monolith, like someone had dumped a huge block of stone in the middle of the forest, all right-angles and coldness. There were no windows, only a dark metal door in the closest wall. It sat in a clearing, almost like the trees didn’t want to come too close to something so imposing. In that moment, Brice thought it the most wonde
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