“Fox?” The Leszy’s frown deepens. Liska jerks away, her tailbone striking a tree root painfully. “I’m fine,” she says, too quickly. Her cheeks are oddly hot, her heart beating in an entirely new sort of panic. “See?” She grips the roots behind her in an attempt to push herself upright, but her shaking legs quickly lose purchase on the blood-slicked soil. The Leszy catches her before she can hit the ground, an exasperated look in his eyes. With all the ceremony of a farmer lifting a sack of potatoes, he scoops Liska into his arms and deposits her back on the flat soil above. He climbs after
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