“Of course,” Twelve said, holding the moonstone up again. Then to Five: “Just make sure you keep Charger under control—you two are the weak links here.”

Five made a sound like a kettle boiling over, but Twelve and Dog were already walking away, the firesprites warming her ears with their glow.

She was grateful for their warmth the farther they went. The cold became more powerful and the darkness seemed to push back against the moonstone, its sphere of light shrinking around them. Beyond that, the black was absolute. But Twelve knew they weren’t alone. She could feel it in the way her skin crawled and in the soft rustling that seemed to be all around them at once. She fixed her eyes on the tracks ahead—Seven had come this way and every step brought them closer to her. The thought focused Twelve, but fear still buzzed under her skin.

Dog’s voice was barely audible when he next spoke. “Quickly. Quietly.”

“Agreed,” Twelve murmured, signaling to the boys behind.

Charger caught her eye again and her stomach knotted. He was rolling his eyes and tossing his horned head. With a spurt of speed, he ran into Surefoot’s rump, terrified of being left behind. Five was struggling to control him. Surefoot tossed her head, but was too well trained to fully express her annoyance. The little group proceeded silently with the walls pressing ever closer.

“It may become too narrow for the snagglefeet,” Dog breathed, voicing Twelve’s concern. Already, if she stretched out her arms, she could touch both sides at once.

“All we can do is keep going and hope it’s all right,” she whispered.

On her shoulders, the firesprites shifted and Twelve only just managed not to flinch. Their heat was burning through her furs and acrid smoke plumed behind her. She relaxed a little as they rose off her, flying higher and pointing. What Twelve saw made her gasp. Just above the reach of the moonstone-light, the walls were dense with cliffcrawlers. They slithered over each other with the occasional flash of claws, but it was their mouths that filled Twelve with fear. Every now and then, one of them would pause and spread its jaws wide, much wider than should have been possible for a relatively small creature. From the splayed maw, a bright red tongue flickered, tasting the air. In each mouth, there were an awful lot of teeth.

Widge, who had poked his head up as soon as the sprites left, gave a tiny mewl of terror.

“It’s all right,” Twelve breathed, scratching his cheek to soothe him. “They can’t see us.”

They can only hear, and smell blood.

Behind her, Charger snorted loudly and Five muffled a yelp. The rustling above fell silent. Eyes wide, Twelve turned to look back, and what she saw chilled her to the core.