Dog surged forward. Surefoot and the sprites kept pace and together they raced between the narrow walls, the crawler stench growing stronger, the gnawed bones of past victims cracking beneath them. Twelve thought of Charger’s fate and shuddered. Five would have been dead too if it wasn’t for Six. She was furious at herself for her slow reaction. Victory would have been horrified—she’d frozen, allowed the attack to take her by surprise, just like in the dungeons. It couldn’t happen again.

Twelve set her jaw. She’d never let it happen again.

Chapter

Twenty

The darkness seemed to stretch on forever. Twelve lost track of how long they rode for, but finally, high above their heads, the first chink of daylight appeared between the leaning cliffs. Slowly, the walls peeled apart until the blue sky stretched clear above them, its brightness a shock after the horrors they’d faced.

But panic drove them on. They didn’t slow until a bright expanse of snow spread all around them. Only here, bathed in glorious daylight with the gorge far behind them, did they feel safe enough to finally halt.

The sprites had long ago ceased their protection and now they darted overhead, throwing fireballs at one another. Twelve’s eyes narrowed at their carefree manner. Her breathing was ragged, her heart still pounding, great gouts of breath steaming in front of her. Widge was digging his claws into her skin where he was hiding, pressed against her, but she barely felt it. Behind her, Six and Surefoot were in the same state, but Five was terrifyingly still, his head lolling back against Six’s shoulder.

Twelve leaped off Dog’s back and they both hurried over to the boys. Her squashed leg hurt, her arm was agony, and her fingers felt burnt, but together they managed to lower Five from Surefoot’s back. He half slithered, half fell to the ground.

Dog peered down at him, tension humming through him. “By the stone, that should not have happened,” he said. “You are only huntlings.” He turned abruptly and paced away, his lips drawn back in a silent snarl.

“He’s alive,” Six said, his voice juddering as he struggled to catch his breath. “That’s the main thing.”

Together, Twelve and Six laid Five on his back, checking him for other wounds.

“I think it’s just his face,” Twelve gulped, her nerves jangling at the deep, ragged wound over his cheekbone. Six swallowed hard.

“If blood bothers you, stand back a bit,” Twelve said. It wasn’t meant unkindly, but her voice came out rough.

Six glanced sharply at her. “I’m fine,” he said, staying where he was. “Or at least I should be. I’ve seen enough of it in my life.” He shook his head angrily.