The air was acrid with Blight, burning his nose and irritating his throat. Again his chest hitched as his lungs desperately tried to cough, but he bit down on the side of his hand to suppress it. Tears sprang into his eyes, blurring his vision. He couldn’t afford to make a sound.
Jax had made this trip a dozen times in the period since Tirisfal had become uninhabitable. He’d learned the best way around the Blight Zone, along the outskirts where old farming villages had been abandoned. He’d found the easiest way to get in and get out with another month’s worth of exotic produce and a mild cough. In all the months since the dual tragedy of Teldrassil and Tirisfal, he’d never run into more than the occasional plague-mad beast.