Georgia

“We startled awake, alarmed by her shouting, jumping to our feet, drawing swords, looking for imminent danger.
Jeb was saying it was a false alarm, that there was nothing wrong, but Lia had somehow gotten to her feet on her own, her eyes wild, telling us we had to leave. A relieved breath hissed between my teeth and I lowered my sword. She’d only had a nightmare. I stepped toward her. “Lia, it was just a bad dream. Let me help you lie back down.”
She hobbled backward, determined, sweat glistening on her face, and her arm stretched out to keep me at a distance. “No! Get ready. We leave this morning.”
“Look at you,” I said. "You’re tottering like a drunk. You can’t ride.”
“I can and I will."
“What’s your hurry, Your Highness?” Sven asked.
She looked from me to my men. Their feet were firmly planted. They weren’t going anywhere based on her wild-eyed demands. Had she spiked another fever?
Her expression sobered. “Please, Rafe, you have to trust me on this.”
“What did you see?” I asked.
“It’s not what I saw but what I heard— Aster’s voice telling me not to tarry.”
“Didn’t she say that to you a dozen times?”
“At least,” she answered, but her stance remained determined.
All this rush over don’t tarry?
Ever since I had gathered her into my arms on that riverbank, I had been looking over my shoulder for danger. I knew it was there. But I had to weigh that uncertainty against the benefits of healing too.
I looked away, trying to think. I wasn’t sure if I was making the right decision or not, but I turned back to my men. “Pack up.”
― Mary E. Pearson, The Beauty of Darkness