Isabella had been walking for hours.
And when I say hours— I mean hours. The kind that made your soul start negotiating with your bones to just give up already.
Her legs ached from walking for hours, her steps dragging like she was carrying the entire mountain on her back. Her hair clung messily to her forehead, and poor Glimora was slumped in her arms like a sleepy little potato. Bubu, on the other hand, floated cheerfully above her shoulder like it hadn't been shouting "Scan again!" every five seconds since sunrise.
"Bubu," Isabella groaned, pressing her palm to her face. "I can't do this all day. My body is not built for this kind of slavery."
"You can and you will," Bubu said in that chipper, heartless little tone that sounded like it ran on other people's suffering. "You still haven't found a safe spot."
