“Yes,” he said, his face splitting into a huge grin. “That’s her. Definitely human and her size. You’ve got sharp eyes, Twelve!”

The compliment warmed her more than she’d expected, and she almost smiled back. Why did he have to be friendly? It just made everything more difficult.

“Let’s make sure they don’t get farther away from us,” he called, his voice high with excitement as he hurried back to Surefoot and leaped into the saddle.

A minute later, they were away again.

The shock of seeing the blood and the subsequent relief at finding Seven’s footprints helped Twelve focus properly on their mission. She was more determined than ever to find the girl.

Farther on, the trail led them lower again, the gradient so steep they had to zigzag. Down and down they went, the mountainsides closing around them like a trap. At the bottom, the way was so narrow that their path fell into shadow and the sky became little more than a blue ribbon, winding high above them like a weird, inverted river. The slopes here were more like cliffs, so sheer no snow rested on them. They gleamed blackly in the dim light, giving off vicious waves of cold.

Widge burrowed back into Twelve’s furs when ice crystals began to form on his ears, something he hated.

“I do not like this one bit,” Five said eventually, his voice echoing off the exposed rock.

“Really?” Twelve asked. “The rest of us are having a wonderful time.”

“Useful words only!” Dog growled back warningly at them.

Twelve clenched her jaw and scowled into the gloom. Her skin was crawling. This place gave her a very bad feeling. Widge was clearly uncomfortable too, shifting and wriggling beneath her bearskin until she prodded him to stop.

“Do you smell that?” Six asked a minute later, crinkling his nose.

Twelve sniffed and nodded in agreement. A foul odor was wafting on the air.

“Ugh, smells worse than ogre,” Five grimaced.

“Worse than you,” Twelve said, unable to resist.

“Twelve!” Dog growled, but his voice had dropped low and the group drew to a halt.

On both sides, the cliffs were drawing closer, the ground before them narrowing like a wedge. Twelve squinted ahead, wondering if she should get the moonstone out of her pocket. Longingly, she glanced over her shoulder to where the light filtered down more plentifully. She flinched. Silhouetted unmistakably against the sunlit snow was a figure. Twelve blinked and it was gone. Goose bumps broke out along her arms and the hairs on the back of her neck rose.

“Uh, this could clearly be a trap,” Five whispered. “We should go back and find another way around.”

Twelve cleared her throat uncomfortably. “That might not be a good idea,” she said carefully. The others turned to her quizzically. “I’m almost certain there’s something following us.”

The boys’ heads whipped around in unison.