She rolled to her feet, yanking her cloak tight. Cold bit into her cheeks, her nose, and the tips of her ears. “Gods, it’s freezing.”
“Aye.” His face had gone red and raw. He held a torch, the flame guttering and weak. A few yards away, Vyr threw the last scraps of firewood onto the coals—gnarled hawthorn branches, barely enough to keep the flames alive. His movements were frantic, jerky.
“What’s wrong?” Her teeth wouldn’t stop chattering.
“Knavoar.” Mor stepped into the firelight, shadows carving her face into hard angles. “They’ve killed two of my Ravens.”
Lara’s heart kicked against her ribs.
She grabbed the torch from Roth’s hand.
“My Queen, you shouldn’t—”
She was already moving.
Out from under the ledge. Past Dorka crouched low to the ground, golden eyes fixed on something in the dark. A growl vibrated in her throat, constant and low.
Footsteps behind her—Bree, silent as always. Then Roth.
Her breath steamed as she moved.
She walked toward the ring of torches they’d placed at the camp’s edge. Half were dead, smoke still rising from blackened wicks. The rest flickered weakly, struggling.
Alar stood at the edge with Cailean beside him. Sablebane and Fern had joined them. Skaal pressed against Cailean’s leg, hackles raised, teeth bared.
They were all staring down into the corrie below.
Lara stopped beside them.
Moonlight turned the world silver. Frost crept across the ground in patterns that were too delicate, too deliberate. Two bodies lay sprawled on the sparkling carpet, just beyond the torchlight. No one moved toward them.
The air turned colder. Each breath scraped her lungs raw.
“Look.” Alar’s voice hardened. “They’re coming.”
Lara followed his gaze.
Silence swallowed them. It was a weight that crushed everything, even the whisper of breath in Lara’s lungs.
Figures rose. Stick-thin limbs. Blue-white skin stretched over bone. They moved in stiff, jolting strides.
No faces, just hollows where eyes should have been. Their mouths hung open, exhaling vapor.
The cold hit Lara first. It sank through her clothes, into her skin, wrapped around her bones.
They were walking toward her.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
Frozen grass broke under bony feet.
She couldn’t move. Her legs had locked. Her heart slammed against her ribs—too loud, too fast. They would hear it. They would know where she was.
One of them turned its head. Its blank face angled at her.
It knew she was there.
Her throat closed. She tried to swallow but couldn’t.
