Two days had passed since Althea had ventured beyond the castle's walls with Darian by her side. Their journey had taken them from one inn to another, and with every passing mile, Althea's frustration grew. She felt as though she was being punished, made to endure this arduous expedition under the blazing sun.
Althea couldn't help but wonder why they were not utilizing their werewolf forms. She knew that with their combined strength and speed, they could have reached their destination swiftly. However, Darian insisted on using horses, a choice that baffled her. It wasn't just annoying; it made their progress painstakingly slow.
As they traveled side by side under the scorching sun, Althea's energy waned, leaving her feeling tired and weak. She finally decided to voice the question that had been gnawing at her for days. "Darian," she began, her voice tinged with frustration, "why are we even going to this place?"