It was dark between the trees, but his look of outrage was obvious. His response was cut off by the unmistakable sound of a twig cracking. A feathercoo cried its alarm and exploded into the darkening sky, its wings ghostly in the moonlight.

Twelve held her breath and reached for her axes with frozen fingers.

“Hide in the trees,” Dog whispered, his eyes fixed on the tracks behind them.

Twelve set her teeth and forced calmness into her panicked thoughts the way Silver had taught her. “No,” she whispered fiercely. “We face whatever it is together.”

Dog flinched as though she had hit him and broke his unblinking stare into the trees. Before she could say another word, he pounced on her and hauled her by her axe slings back into the gloom between the thickly needled branches.

“You are troublesome,” he growled as he dragged her struggling form effortlessly. “Listen to me in the future.”

Twelve fought him furiously and silently, her fury a boiling, living thing inside her. How dare he?

Suddenly awake and mightily offended by it, Widge darted up onto Dog’s nose and tried fruitlessly to bite him.

Another twig snapped, much closer this time, and the wind whirled a fragment of jumbled conversation to them. Paws crunched through the snow, approaching steadily. It sounded like there was more than one and they were big.

Twelve froze.

In an instant, Dog sprang away from her, and onto whatever was lurking beyond.

Chapter

Eleven

A shriek ripped through the trees, followed by a stream of curses and Dog’s yelp of shock. Twelve scrambled to her feet, her heart sinking: no dark creature had made those sounds.

She shouldered her way through the tangle of branches and, sure enough, there were Five and Six. Both were mounted on shaggy snagglefeet, armed to the teeth and dressed in their warmest furs. The two groups stared at one another, weapons drawn, eyes wide. Widge fled from Dog’s shoulder back to Twelve’s.

Charger, Five’s gray snagglefoot, rolled his eyes wildly. His short, curved horns gleamed in the watery moonlight and his bearlike snout puffed panicky breaths into the crisp night air. Six’s snaggle, Surefoot, was calm in comparison. Her long nut-brown fur rippled in the breeze, powerful claws hidden beneath the snowcrust.

Twelve was the first to relax, returning her axes to their slings and glaring at the boys. “So, which one of you has that high-pitched scream? Five? Bet it’s you.”

Neither boy responded, both too busy gawping at Dog.

“I told you,” Five muttered to Six. “Told you it was awake!”

“It?” Dog growled, his lips drawing back to reveal razor-sharp canines.

“Did it just talk?” Five gasped, his eyes huge.

Six elbowed Five hard. “Sorry about him—he babbles when he’s nervous.”

Dog snarled, glaring at Five.

“What are you two doing here?” Twelve demanded.