#-- wylan

Mal’s breath is harsh as he rights himself, looking over at Wylan who’d posed the question. Unfortunately, things had gone bad unexpectedly and after wrestling with the minion of the Darkling, Mal’s worn out. “How in the Saints did they find us?” he wonders to himself, cursing himself for making some sort of mistake. It’s unclear if that’s the problem or if there’s someone less trustworthy than anticipated. Looking down at his hand for a moment, Wylan is right, he’s bleeding. There must’ve been too much adrenaline pumping for him to realize until now. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. We’ve got to get moving,” he decides.