“Not the sort of mark a knife leaves,” Fallon said, his face thoughtful as he fingered the worn edges.
“No, it’s not.” Shea’s voice was grim as she faced the fact that their guide had either abandoned them or suffered a tragic event. She had no idea what had happened to the Anateri, Owen, but she suspected it wouldn’t be good.
They were alone in the mist with something possibly hunting them.
That thought must have occurred to the others as well because three blades were drawn as they faced out, their backs to each other.
Their horses stomped their feet and shook their heads. Trenton’s attempted to rear before the lead tied to it restricted its movement.
The muffled sound of sibilant laughter reached her, and Shea got the impression of something big sliding through the mist around them, up and over boulders like they weren’t even there.
An object flew through the mist. Fallon jerked them back as a body landed in two pieces at their feet—bloody and raw and covered in slime. The person had been ripped apart at the waist, his intestines trailing out in a bloody mess. It was Owen, his face empty in death.
“I’m guessing we’re not alone out here anymore,” Trenton said in a tight voice after a quick glance at his former comrade.
“Where are you going, little mouse?” a whispery voice asked from the gray.
“There’s something on the right,” Witt said.
“My side too,” Wilhelm responded.
“It’s already surrounded us,” Fallon said, his eyes locked on the mist, his body held at the ready.
“Stay and play,” the whisper voice said. “We have soooo much we want to tell you.”
“Last time, you said it was just the voices of our lost. Is it the same this time?” Trenton asked over his shoulder.
“No, I said that they were shades. They have no form and can only lure you through memories. This is something else entirely,” Shea corrected. She had one hand on the rope to her side and her sword in the other.
“The woman said that this isn’t real,” Trenton argued.
“Probably why she’s not here anymore,” Shea said as she looked around.
Lilah could have cut the rope with a dull knife or maybe something did the deed for her. Either way, Shea didn’t think it was coincidence that whatever this was had separated them from their guide and killed one of their number.
“It’s playing with us,” Fallon said, his voice one of grim realization.
Shea thought so too. Whatever it was had the advantage. The mist shielded it from view, making its hunting easy. She suspected it was old and practiced at finding prey, even in a place like this where the senses lied. She couldn’t help but think it might have tried the same technique on those who’d preceded them. The other groups wouldn’t have had the benefit of an additional skilled pathfinder with them.
“Do you think it killed everyone else who came before us?” Witt asked.
The group was silent as they considered that. Shea felt a sense of horror at the thought that this creature had picked each group off, one by one. The only thing that helped, was the thought that if it had, it most likely wouldn’t be hungry by now.
“Either way, we can’t leave it free to hunt the others,” Fallon said, voicing her conclusion before she could.
“You’re right,” Shea agreed.
“How do we kill something we can’t see?” Trenton asked in a resigned voice.
“Attached to each other as we are?” Wilhelm inserted, tugging on the rope. “I assume it’s still too dangerous to risk separating.”
“You’re right,” Shea said. The impossible task had gotten even more difficult.
A form rushed through the mist.
“Down,” Fallon barked.
They ducked and moved as one, barely avoiding the dark shape as it swept past. A horse screamed in fear as the creature brushed it. Shea caught the faint impression of scales and what looked like feathers attached to a huge serpentine figure.
