Only as it moved closer did she realize what she was looking at: the lodge’s Guardian. She didn’t lower her axes as he approached. Widge, in agreement, bared his teeth, fur standing on end.

Twelve had seen many strange things since she’d arrived at the lodge, but the Guardian was easily the strangest. He was the reddish stone of the lodge walls and so lifelike that he could have passed for flesh and blood, except for his enormous size. One of his ears was badly torn, giving him a dangerous appearance. With a flicker of horror, she remembered how he’d thrown a winter wolf aside as if it weighed nothing. Her fingers gripped the hafts of her axes more tightly and she gave him her fiercest scowl as he halted in front of her, his ears pricked, expression serious.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice grating like millstones. His eyes flicked from Twelve to Widge and back again. “Return to the lodge at once. The Hunters will worry.”

Twelve couldn’t contain her snort. “Like they’re worrying about Seven? I think I’m better off out here.” She resisted the urge to flinch as he loomed over her, taking in her clothing and bulging canvas bag.

“You try to track the huntling yourself,” he said, his disapproval obvious.

“I’m not trying, I’m doing it,” she said, jutting her chin. Her expression, and Widge’s bared teeth, dared him to contradict her.

His bark of gravelly laughter caught her off guard. “But I am here now,” he said, his tail wagging slowly as he regarded her. “You must go back.”

His amusement was infuriating and Twelve’s anger roared inside her. “You don’t even want to be here,” she said, her voice much louder than she’d intended. “I heard you in the Great Hall. I don’t believe you’ll even try to get Seven back.”

The Guardian’s tail stopped wagging and a low, ominous growl sounded at the back of his throat. Clenching her teeth, Twelve turned away from him, back to the prints at her feet.

“I spoke the truth to the council,” he said from behind her. “This plan is not sound. The Elders command me to find the child regardless. Therefore I must do it.” His growl grew more pronounced. “Return to the lodge. Now.”

Twelve spun back to face him, her hands still clutching her axes. “No!” The word rang with determination. In the silence that followed, the Guardian’s expression shifted from annoyance to concern, then back to annoyance again.

“You waste time,” he growled, glancing at the deepening shadows spreading across the snowfield. “The girl is getting farther away.”

“Then you’d better get moving,” Twelve said. “I’ll be right behind you.”

The Guardian stared at her in amazement. “You have no snagglefoot. How will you cross the Fangs?”