Dog and Six were crowding around her, their faces too close in the dark. Widge was patting her cheek with an insistent paw.

“By the frost,” Six snapped, his green eyes wide, “you’re hard to rouse.”

“What is it?” Twelve said, relieved to find no tears on her cheeks, despite the ache in her chest.

“The forest,” Dog growled, his bulk looming into the snow cave. “It has moved.”

Twelve blinked uncertainly and Dog stepped back. Immediately behind him was a tree where before there had been open snow.

With a gasp, Twelve crawled out, limbs stiff from the cold, and struggled to her feet. For a moment, she was unable to speak. The slope was still there behind them, but now it was densely forested.

Tired of waiting, the forest had come for them.

Chapter

Twenty-Three

Twelve turned on the spot, heart pounding.

Impossible.

“What happened?” she gasped.

“I do not know,” Dog said. “A moment ago, the moon was high. Now it is almost dawn.” A low growl sounded from him. “By the stone, I hate this place and its magic.”

Twelve gulped and Widge squeaked his agreement. The stifling sensation of the previous night was back again, even stronger; the air was catching in her throat, crushing her lungs. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but predawn light splintered strangely off the ground, causing a sort of haze. Some of the trees shimmered at the edge of her vision, only solidifying when she looked straight at them. Others seemed to vanish, only appearing when she looked away. Where she could see them clearly, the trunks were knotted and twisted, their growth gigantic and torturous. The ground was clotted with thorns and vines and everything gleamed with a steely frost.

Then there was the noise: a low, constant sound that was impossible to ignore. It was almost like whispering, except no matter how hard she strained she could hear no words. There were none of the sounds usually associated with a forest. No birds flew; no squirrels scampered; no breath of wind disturbed the frost-rimed branches high above them. But Twelve felt they were being watched nonetheless; a chilly, implacable attention pressed around them.

“You obviously fell asleep,” Five’s voice accused Dog.

“He doesn’t sleep,” Twelve snapped, feeling her nerves fray.

She turned back to the others and was brought up short by the sight of Five being dragged querulously out of the snow cave by Six. His skin was like parchment and black circles encompassed both eyes. His hands were shaking, and he didn’t seem able to move his legs at all. Six didn’t look much better himself, his eyes wide with shock, whether from Five’s appearance or the forest’s Twelve couldn’t say.

“The tracks are still here at least,” Six whispered, pointing to the ground. “That’s something.”

Dog nodded. “We must move fast. Nothing good comes of lingering in this forest.”