The moon offered light so dim Elara could barely see. It was as if the moon itself had withdrawn from the chaotic presence of the earth.
Elara's heart beat hard within her chest, not just because she was standing on opposite sides with her comrade, but because she knew there was only one way out—and that was the hell of a decision to make.
"Tch," she hissed, back-stepping to dodge Natasha's charging punch. "I'm lucky those cute eyes of hers weren't reserved. That would've gotten into my head too easily."
"Arghhh!" she gasped immediately, pain shooting from her back ankle. She wiggled her leg as if trying to shake off a flesh-eating mouse.
A miniature stick-man fell from her leg, the size of a board marker, with the same color as Natasha's skin.
It was a fragment of Natasha's hand—Nora had manipulated Natasha to donate it while Elara was still wallowing in woe.
