Page 192 - Fourth Wing

ahead of Rhiannon, rubbing his palms along the sides of his uniform. “Or I

guess we can go faster if we want to get out of here.”
A red steps out of line, putting one claw forward toward us, and my

stomach drops to the ground from the weight of the dread filling my entire

body. “No, no, no,” I whisper, freezing in place, but it’s too late.
The red opens its mouth, exposing sharp, glistening fangs, and fire erupts

along the sides of its tongue, streaming through the air and into the path

ahead of Rhiannon.
She yells in shock.

Heat blasts the front of my face.

Then it’s over.
The scent of sulfur and burned grass…burned…something fills my lungs,

and I see a charred patch of ground in front of Rhiannon that hadn’t been
there before.

“Are you all right, Rhi?” I call forward.

She nods, but the movement is hurried and jerky. “Pryor is… He’s…”
Pryor’s dead. My mouth waters like I’m going to vomit, but I breathe in

through my nose and out through my mouth until the feeling passes.
“Keep walking!” Sawyer shouts from farther down the path.

“It’s all right, Rhi. You just have to…” She just has to what? Walk over

his corpse? Is there a corpse?
“Fire’s out,” Rhiannon says over her shoulder.

I nod, because there’s nothing I can say to reassure her.

Holy shit are we insignificant.
She walks forward and I follow, maneuvering around the pile of ash that

used to be Pryor.

“Oh my gods, the smell,” Luca complains.
“Could you please have some level of decency?” I snap, turning around

to level a glare at her, but Ridoc’s face makes me pause.
His eyes are as wide as saucers, and his mouth hangs open. “Violet.”