In the training ground, Twelve could hear the surge of feet and Victory shouting. “They will be unarmed!” she yelled. “Form up in front of the armory. Without their weapons, they’re helpless.”

Twelve tried not to think about what was coming next as she scrambled off Dog’s back with the others. There were two corridors on either side of a central staircase, one for boys and one for girls. Ghastly green fire burned in the torches here as well.

Twelve darted into the boys’ hallway with Six and they began pulling back bolts and throwing the doors open. Bewildered, bedraggled Hunters emerged, and, with a sinking heart, Twelve realized whatever Victory had used to drug them must have been powerful. They were awake enough to know what had happened and to try to escape their prison, but their eyes were glazed, their movements sluggish. They spilled out into the passage, taking in the green light with horror, slapping their cheeks and shaking their heads, trying everything to make themselves more alert.

As they poured out of the rooms, no Widge appeared alongside them. Twelve pushed down her rising dread, told herself that just because he wasn’t there didn’t mean he was dead. But there was a cold fist of fear in her gut, hard to ignore, growing all the time.

Shouted questions overwhelmed Twelve and hands grabbed at her as the Hunters sought an explanation. She twisted away furiously and rushed to the last door, the one from which the loudest shouting came. When she drew back the bolt, Elder Hoarfrost burst from the room, his tall frame almost filling the doorway. White hair poked out wildly from under his helmet and keen black eyes darted about, taking everything in at once. Unlike the other Hunters, he seemed fully alert and in control. One look at him and Twelve’s heart began to lift. She might not like the man, but the Hunters uniformly feared and respected him. Perhaps there was hope for the lodge after all.

Hoarfrost’s gaze took in the situation at a glance: Dog guarding the door, the dazed Hunters trying to push past him into the training ground.

“Scuttling skryll! Shut it, all of ye!” he roared. “Guardian, report!”

In as few words as possible, Dog sketched out the situation. Twelve saw the Elder’s face pale when Dog explained Victory’s betrayal but, when he next spoke, his voice rang with authority.

“First things first,” Hoarfrost boomed. “Huntlings, upstairs now! Take shelter in the Elders’ rooms on the top floor an’ barricade the ruddy doors.” The students rushed for the stairs. Twelve, Seven, Five, and Six stayed exactly where they were. Hoarfrost noticed this with only a slight narrowing of his eyes. “Next, weapons,” he called. “What do we have?”