“What happened in the gorge?” he asked, watching the firesprites vanish into the distance through narrowed eyes.

Twelve shrugged. Her hand throbbed painfully again and when she glanced down she saw the fingers of her gloves were singed. Unease whispered through her. “Are you all right?” she asked Dog. “You haven’t stopped pacing.”

He shook his head. “I thought bringing you was safer than leaving you,” he growled. “Grave misjudgment.”

Twelve scuffed her boot in the snow. “We would have followed the trail with or without you,” she said eventually. “What happened back there wasn’t your fault. Don’t feel bad.”

“Feel bad?” Dog yowled, making Twelve jump. “I feel furious! You should have listened. The Hunters should have listened. Tracking is not my strength. Protecting huntlings is not my strength. Fighting is the thing I’m good at. Fighting under command. When I make my own decisions, it always . . . I always . . .”

Twelve was startled by the anguish in his voice and grasped blindly for the right words. Suddenly she longed for Silver. The Elder had always known what to say to make someone feel better. Tentatively, Twelve reached out and put her hand on Dog’s shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault,” she said again. She turned, quickly walking back to the others, hoping she hadn’t made things worse.

They’d stopped for long enough and every moment carried Seven farther away. The girl’s dimpled smile flicked into Twelve’s mind and she pushed down a wave of fear for her. She reminded herself that the tracks had continued through the gorge and out the other side. There was no reason to think Seven hadn’t passed through unscathed, but the fear didn’t abate.

“Can you ride Surefoot with Six?” she asked Five. Her voice came out harsher than intended.

“Definitely, since the only other option is riding Dog with you.” He scowled at her. “I told you the firesprites were a bad idea. You can’t trust them.”

Their high-pitched laughter at Five’s plight came back to her and she knew he was right. She nodded slowly. “They’re still the reason we’re standing here though. Without them, we’d have been shredded.”

“I agree,” Six said, helping Five to his feet. “And without you they never would have helped us at all. You have a way with them.”

Five snorted. “No friends, but the firesprites like her. Why doesn’t that surprise me? And what happened to her hair?”

Twelve blinked and raised a hand to her head. A hank of hair fell away at her touch. “Widge!” she groaned. The squirrel curled his tail around himself, ducking his head in shame. “He chews it sometimes when he’s scared.” Twelve sighed, dropping the hair onto the ground.

“Brilliant taste in pets too,” Five muttered.

Six rolled his eyes as he helped his friend into the saddle. “Ignore him, Twelve.”

“I always do.”