As Korlak’s eyes widened, Stev picked up the narrative. “Every briefing I have ever had on Karsite demons said that they are sent to specific places to attack, rather than sent to attack specific people. They’re not that bright and can’t tell humans from anything else, much less tell humans apart. So they’re sent to a place, allowed to run rampant for a time, then recalled. Anything in that spot that isn’t protected will be minced.” He grimaced. “When the Karsite priests send demons, they don’t particularly care who gets in the way. They always say ‘The God will know his own.’”

Jicks nodded. “So we’re going to get out of this spot. And when the demons come, we’ll be—hopefully—out of their sensing range.”

•   •   •

The fire was out. The only light came from a half moon, but the line of trees in the distance seemed clear enough to Abi. She slipped out first when Jicks nudged her and got her hinny, Belle, from the picket line. Jicks followed. Stev and Korlak, Korlak’s crow riveted to his shoulder, each took one of the wagon hinnies. Following Jicks, who seemed to have eyes like a cat, they made their way through the darkness to that distant line of trees.

She stumbled a lot, and it was Belle who kept her upright, waiting patiently, steady as a rock, for her to get her balance again. Eventually instead of trying to lead the hinny, she draped her arm over Belle’s back and let Belle lead her. She got the sense that Belle was “feeling” her way with her feet, finding roots and stones and holes before Abi could. And the entire time they crept their way through the gorse and bracken, she kept expecting to have that sense of eyes on her again.

Somehow, although it seemed as if they had been moving through the night forever, when they got to the shelter of the trees, Jicks looked up at the stars, and whispered, “Not quite midnight.” She urged her hinny to lie down, and lay down beside her. Abi copied her. Korlak had some trouble until his crow cawed, very softly, twice; then the hinny folded up her legs and went down nicely.

Stev had already gotten his hinny down.

Abi lay down next to her hinny and looked back in the direction of their wagon. Now she saw why Jicks had taken this position. Besides making themselves less of a target, hidden in the shadows under the low trees, from this angle the wagon stood out clearly, a stark black patch against the night sky.

“If they come, they’ll come at midnight,” Stev said quietly.

“If they don’t, no harm done,” Jicks replied.

And so they waited, in the insect-buzzing night, with another of those birds nearby singing its heart out.

Until it stopped.

And an unearthly howl came from the direction of the wagon.