Twelve lay back as well, wrapping her blankets around herself and tucking another oilskin over the top to make a sleeping bag. She hugged her knees to her chest and stared into the fire, thinking of Seven, hoping she was all right, wherever she was.

Beyond the sphere of firelight, a movement caught her eye in the trees. She bolted upright and stared into the darkness. A strange, creeping fear curled in her stomach and she instinctively grabbed one of her axes.

Dog had leaped up at her sudden movement and the boys were sitting up too, their weapons already in their hands.

“What is it?” Dog asked, by her side in an instant.

“I . . . something moved,” Twelve said, her certainty fading. Dog peered into the darkness with her. Widge sprang out of the nearest tree and bounded over to her, fur stiff with alarm.

“That thing’s going to get itself killed,” Five huffed, shoving his sword back into its sheath. Six lowered his bow and arrow with a sigh of relief. Dog relaxed and turned to them.

“Sleep,” he said. “I will patrol.”

“Excellent,” Five yawned “You’re so useful, Dog.” A moment later, he was snoring.

Twelve lay back down, unsettled, sure it hadn’t been Widge she’d seen. In her arms, he shivered as she stroked him, his eyes fixed on the darkness between the tree trunks.

“Did you see something too?” she murmured, wishing, not for the first time, that he could speak.

She gripped her axes even tighter. Her thoughts were whirling, but she welcomed them. The last thing she needed was to fall asleep without dream milk.

Across the fire, Six’s breathing became deep and steady. The flames crackled comfortingly and Dog paced quietly around them. Widge relaxed and slowly Twelve’s thoughts calmed. Her eyelids began to droop.

Don’t fall asleep!

The desperate thought snapped her eyes back open. Fear prickled her scalp. She gritted her teeth and stared up into the dark branches laced above her. Dog paused beside her, his face quizzical. Then understanding dawned.

“You have no dream milk,” he said quietly.

Twelve winced, hoping the firelight hid the color flooding her cheeks. “No,” she said finally, her voice as stiff as her back.

Dog hesitated, then said, “I have heard much about nightmares. They cannot kill you. Lack of sleep can. You must be on sharp form tomorrow, Twelve.”

Twelve didn’t have the energy to argue so she settled for silence. When he continued his patrol, she forced her eyes open, wide and unblinking. She would not allow herself to fall asleep.

Chapter

Thirteen

Twelve’s eyes snapped open and immediately she knew she was in trouble. She was lying on a ground cushioned with thick, springy grass and beyond the branches the sky was the bright, welcoming blue of a summer’s day.

She swore and pinched herself hard, her breath hitching.