Twelve’s breathing was finally starting to feel easier and her heart was beating at a normal rate. She managed to wrestle her face into what she hoped was an expression of revulsion.

“Are we supposed to bond over that or something?” she said, her voice colder than the snow beneath her fingers. “I’m not interested in your sob stories.”

Six’s face dropped. The look of disgust Five gave her would have shamed most people, but Twelve jutted her chin at him defiantly. He sloped back to his oilskins and began packing up. Six was harder to read: a series of emotions, too quick to identify, flashed across his features and were gone again.

“Well,” he said eventually, his expression neutral, “sun’s coming up. We should get moving.”

Widge was licking the salt from her cheeks. If they’d been alone, she would have buried her face in the familiar warmth of his fur, but she settled for stroking him instead, the repetitive action slowly bringing her back to herself.

Dog’s shadow loomed over her. “You are not the first huntling to be haunted by their past. I have known many over the years. I am here if you want to talk.”

The anger, simmering just under the surface, flared hot again. “Why would I want to confide in a stone dog who doesn’t sleep and doesn’t even know what pain or fear are?” Her voice was a whiplash.

Dog regarded her steadily until she looked away. “I never said I felt no fear,” he said quietly.

“Anyway, it’s hardly a competition,” Five muttered, shooting her another glare and turning back to saddle Charger. Six’s lips formed a thin white line.

Twelve fumbled her oilskins into her bag, trying not to feel guilt, trying not to feel anything. Widge licked her cheek again, his worried eyes on her face.

“It’s all right,” she lied, patting him gently. His was the only attention she could bear.

The group that assembled a few minutes later was pale from lack of sleep, silent and grim. No one met Twelve’s eye, not even Dog as she climbed onto his back. Without a single word being exchanged, the group set off, following the goblin trail as the sun rose beside them.

Try as she might, Twelve couldn’t keep herself focused. Her thoughts kept drifting back to the dream. The details of her parents’ faces were clearer and sharper in her mind than they’d been in two years. And then there was Poppy. There was a pain in her chest that throbbed when she thought of her little sister. She remembered again the dimples in Poppy’s smile, the warmth of their arms linked together. How she wished things had stayed like that between them. A metallic taste filled her mouth and she realized she’d bitten her lip too hard.