“This is brilliant!” Five called, his voice jarringly loud above the crunching snow and ragged breathing.

“Shh!” Twelve hissed. “Do you want to tell every goblin where we are?”

“Not just the goblins,” Dog offered darkly as his paws pounded the ground. “Quiet is preferable. Silence better.”

“He means ‘shut up,’” Twelve clarified.

“How very lucky Dog is to have you translating for him,” Five said waspishly. Then to Dog, “Do you mind her patronizing you?”

“Quiet,” Dog growled as his great body sprang forward, the snagglefeet racing on either side of him. “Please.”

From then, they traveled in silence, darkness swirling behind them like a cloak. Twelve tightened all her furs, pulled her hat low and her muffler high. Only her eyes were visible, but still the icy air stung as it froze the inside of her nostrils. Widge retreated to the relative comfort of her bearskin, only his eyes and ears visible above the collar.

Seven’s trail drew everyone’s gaze forward, and the moonstone was a beacon, filling their hearts with hope. They sped between snow-laden pines, sending clouds of orb moths whirring above them, their jeweled lights making Five gasp.

“So beautiful!” he sighed. “I’ve never seen that many together.”

“There is more of everything farther north,” grunted Dog.

A tingle of anticipation ran through Twelve. North of the Fangs was where all the best stories and worst monsters came from. It wasn’t a place for students until they’d passed their Blooding in the Frozen Forest. Despite her common sense screaming the dangers, Twelve was excited.

Eventually, they raced out into the open and the sky yawned overhead. Twelve’s breath caught in her throat—there wasn’t a single cloud to dull the diamond-studded brilliance of it. The sickle moon smiled down on them, as ragged peaks, too steep for snow, melted into the blackness above. The wilderness welcomed them hungrily, its beauty shining with hard edges and teeth.

Unbidden, Dog slowed to a walk and stopped. They were in a wide valley, the slopes thickly forested but the bottom flat and open. The broad, snow-covered expanse shone in the starlight.

“We will camp on the slope,” he said. “We can pick up the trail again at dawn.”

In unison, the three huntlings began to protest, but Dog was immovable. “Exhaustion creates mistakes,” he said. “Even I need to rest. You are all dead on your feet.”

“Dead on our bums more like,” Five muttered, wriggling on Charger’s back.

Twelve’s arms were so tired and her eyelids so heavy. Sleep was out of the question without dream milk, but to lie down quietly for an hour or two sounded like bliss. Then she thought of Seven, the warmth of her smile, the dimples that reminded her so much of Poppy, and all thoughts of rest faded. They had to keep going.

“We can’t stop now—we could be so close!” Six’s voice broke into her thoughts.