“What is wrong with you?” I mutter.
Hamish trots back toward the exit and stops again.
Waiting.
Mary and I exchange a look.
“We’ve got nothing to lose,” I finally admit.
Hamish leads us out of the stables, around the castle, and into a small stretch of woods I’ve never explored before.
We walk in silence a few feet apart.
I’m painfully aware of her beside me.
Focus, Finn.
You’re following a sheep through the woods.
Officially the weirdest moment of your life.
Hamish finally stops in front of a tiny abandoned structure.
The wooden door is half-rotted.
The windows are filthy.
The roof sags inward.
The kind of place nobody’s touched in decades.
“I didn’t even know this building existed,” Mary whispers.
“Neither did I.”
Hamish scratches insistently at the door.
I walk forward and push it open.
The hinges groan ominously.
Inside, darkness and damp wood surround us while cobwebs hang from every corner.
And in the far back corner?—
Ragnar.
The sheep is lying down.
He lifts his head toward us and lets out a low almost threatening bleat.
Mary moves closer carefully.
“Ragnar? Are you okay?”
Then she freezes.
I step closer too, squinting into the darkness.
