7. (Still don't know what to call it) part 2

~Noah~

The trees thicken, their spindly, needled branches gently scraping my legs and face. I blink against them as I run, every once in a while looking to my right as the sun slowly dips down, further and further behind the mountain. I have to hurry.
Luckily, as this thought rang in my mind for the umpteenth time, a new light catches my attention, and I turn to see flames leaping up from a large torch reaching out from a guard tower nearby. Heart clenching in hope, I quicken my gait, ignoring the sharp thorns burying themselves into my feet as I tear my way through bushes. I stop near the edge of the wood, resting my body against the barked trunk of a large pine. I eye the tower, then look towards the main building, one small mark signifying my destination.
A small carving of a feather etched into the wood.
I surge forward, ignoring the shouts from the guard tower that soon grow softer as the sound of my ragged breath reaches my ears. I throw myself towards the opening of the hall, running my hand along the wood for balance as I pass it. My finger slides over the carving before the rest of my body crosses into the hall. I run, my feet thankful for the soft but sturdy dirt floor beneath me. I let out a gasp as I see the large wooden doors. Then I notice the armed guard in front of it. The dark-skinned soldier spots me immediately.
"Stop!" he shouts.
I open my mouth but can't manage words to come out with my gasps. Instead of following his orders, I decide to use something stronger than words. I come up to him at a run, stopping just short of him and resting my palm against his bare chest. He steps back, but my hand stays on his skin. He reaches out to knock my hand away, but he can't seem to get his fingers around my wrist. A barrier-like force keeps him from harming me.
I don't have time to explain, I urge, my words reaching him through my fingers spreading further across his dark skin, My name is Noah. I mean your master no harm, but I must see him this instant.
The guard falls away from me, stunned. I push past him, thankful when he makes no move to stop me. I through myself against the door and sprint into the room, immediately falling to the carpet of animal skins. My body shudders, finally giving way after hours of exhaustion.
Then I feel two hands on my shoulders, gently holding me upright. Then a palm rests against my forehead.
"Ila," I mutter, my lips barely able to utter the name.
"Yes," the man answers softly, "I'm here, prophetess. What have you to tell me."
I meet his eyes, as equally dark as my own, then shut them, feeling my breath leave me for a moment before coming out in heaves.
"Noah," Ila says worriedly. I reach out to him, touching his chest like I had the guards, and muster that thought once more before falling into the darkness of sleep.
The Marksmen have returned.