Lara chose the safer path that wound gently ahead, even though it would add hours to their journey.
The memory of Barett's harrowing near-death experience at the hanging bridge loomed in her mind like a dark cloud. The sickening crack of the plank, his screams—those memories weighed heavily on her, pushing her toward caution.
She wasn't willing to gamble—not today. Not with Abel and Barett in tow.
She prioritized safety over speed. The route, lined with towering trees and thick undergrowth, felt like a protective embrace, and she welcomed the respite it offered.
A year ago, she had climbed Ourea's Peak for the first time after arriving in this backward era. Back then, when she was Lara Starr, she'd taken a different route—the quickest one—reaching the summit in half a day when others needed more than twenty-four hours. She'd felt invincible then, like the mountain itself bent to her will.
