Costel, still weary from his recent, intense exertion, was panting heavily. Although spring had well and truly taken hold of the archipelago, the temperature was not particularly high – with every laboured breath, wisps of water vapour gathered around his nostrils, slightly obscuring his vision. The male blinked a few times, almost frantically, as if trying to shake off the sight. It didn't help him much.
He could taste the fresh, warm, metallic taste of blood in his mouth. Before hi...