For the second infuriating time that day, Twelve found herself wanting to smile at him.

Five stared, aghast. “You can’t be—”

“But they can,” Six insisted. “You must remember the demonstration Elder Hoarfrost gave us. It was before you arrived, Twelve.”

“What I remember is how many Hunters and buckets of water were on standby,” Five said, staring darkly at the box in Twelve’s hand. “And that Hoarfrost was wearing full battle armor. Which it obviously turned out that he needed.”

“We’re wasting time,” Twelve said, glancing behind them again. “Does anyone have a better idea?”

Silence.

“Then we’re doing this. Six, give me your dagger.”

From within Twelve’s furs came a squirrel-yowl of despair.

Six’s confused expression only grew more pronounced when Twelve leaped off Dog and stabbed his blade into the frozen ground. Then, before she could change her mind, or be talked out of it, Twelve flipped the catch and opened the lid of the box. The others shrank back instantly.

Three tiny figures whirled up and out, their brightness increasing until darts of flame fell from their fluttering wings. Fire glowed under their skin and they glared around with sharp-featured faces, their tiny fists clenched, noses wrinkled in disgust at the smell.

Twelve resisted the urge to pull back as her cheeks began to burn in their heat. If she showed any weakness now, she was done for—and probably the others as well.

“My name is Twelve,” she said to them. She had read that courtesy was vital when dealing with sprites and that flattery rarely went amiss either. Though she wasn’t sure how she would know if it was working. But she plowed on. “And it’s me that has brought you out of the lodge, because only you can help us. A student has been kidnapped and we’re the rescue party. She’s in mortal danger.”

The sprites let their fiery gaze wander over the others and began to laugh. There was something cruel in the sound that made Twelve’s skin crawl. Pressed against her heart, Widge shivered.

She spoke quickly. “We’ve come this far, but now we’ve hit a problem. We know how exceptionally talented you are at controlling fire. . . .”

Behind her Dog snorted, but the sprites seemed to inflate before her eyes, puffing their chests out and chattering excitedly to one another.

“. . . And we can’t go any farther without your assistance.”

The sprites flew closer to her, all in a line, their heads tilted at the same angle. The effect was disconcerting. Twelve tried to ignore how the icicles were melting off her hat.

“Be careful,” Six whispered. “They’re too close to you.”