“Then what’s eatin’ the sheep?” asked Gallina.
“Eating. Or taking,” said Viv. “And I don’t know. Maybe it’s nothing. But it’s like they were scared back into their hole. Not much scares a spineback. They’re too stupid to be scared. Maybe there’s something else out here?”
“Thebounty’sjust for spinebacks,” observed Gallina. She busied herself gathering trophies from each of the dead beasts as proof of their success.
Viv sighed. “Doesn’t sit right with me, leaving the job undone.”
“Well, that driver ain’t gonna wait around forever,” observed Gallina, straightening from her grisly task.
Strapping her saber onto her waist, Viv gathered up Satchel’s bag. “Hard to argue with that. I sure as hells don’t want to walk all the way home.”
Satchel poured himself back into the bag before they broke from the last stand of trees near the farmstead.
As she straightened and slung the strap over her shoulder, Viv stopped and sniffed.
A scent on the air.
Winter blood.
The hair on the back of her neck prickled, and gooseflesh rippled down her arms.
“Wait here,” she said, and started moving.
“What?” said Gallina. “What the hells are you doin’?”
“Just wait!” she called back.
She followed the odor, and deeper into the wood, in a dark clearing, she found the missing sheep. Or what remained of them.
It was the other things she found that made her blood frost over.
“Is this what I think it is?” she asked quietly, folding back the flap of the satchel.
The homunculus’s skull emerged to peer at what she indicated.
“Oh, no,” moaned Satchel, his voice filled with dread.
When Meg came to the door of her cottage, Viv surprised her by seizing her hand and hurrying her to a stretch of bare dirt.
“Have you ever seen this before?” she asked, and with the end of a stick she sketched a symbol in the earth.
A diamond with two branches like horns.
The look of surprise on the farmer’s face was all she needed.
“How long ago?” Viv demanded.
38
The mules clopped north with agonizing slowness, and the driver couldn’t be persuaded to move them any faster. “I don’t keep ’em for their speed,” he grumbled. “They’re doin’ what they can.”
Viv gritted her teeth, wondering if the threat of the shambling undead might encourage him to hurry them up. Odds were, though, that the driver would head in the opposite direction if he knew what might await them.
She could’ve jogged faster than the plodding beasts, but even with her leg mostly mended, testing it at such extremes of distance would be foolish.
In the end, she could only fume and drum her hand on the sideboard and glare at the slow passage of the peaceful countryside.
It didn’t help that she could still smell the wights in brief whiffs. Or at least, she thought she could. Her mind filled with images of Maylee fending off the undead with her old mace, and Fern’s bookshop aflame.
