“I think it’s the moonstone,” Six whispered, nodding at the glowing gem. “It’s flawless, remember, so its light shows things that are normally hidden.”

Dog nodded, looking around. “Much is hidden in this place,” he growled. “Hold the stone up high. Better that we see everything.”

He was right. Almost always the moonstone revealed details of their surroundings that they hadn’t seen before, some of them quite deadly. One innocuous-looking shrub was revealed to have wicked red thorns by moonstone-light, a sure sign of poison. Surefoot had been about to barge right through it.

They wound between twisted boughs, keeping their eyes open for the sinister strangler vines and anything else that moved, but all was deathly quiet. The goblin tracks sliced through the snow, deep and easy to follow, and the group moved swiftly, eager to be out of the forest as soon as possible.

Constantly, the feeling of being watched tugged at Twelve. Her eyes probed every shadow, every low-hanging branch, every swirl of the shifting mist. The others evidently felt the same thing.

“Might be all those faces in the trees,” Six whispered, grimacing at a particularly unpleasant one.

“Could be,” said Twelve. Widge glanced up at her, doubtful.

“Did you see that?” Five asked a while later, making them all jump. His voice was almost unrecognizable, thick and garbled. He raised his arm unsteadily to indicate a dense stand of trees. He giggled and then noticed the ropes that bound him. “Why’m I tied up?” he slurred. “Lemme go!” He tugged at the ropes, jerking Surefoot’s head in the process. She snorted uneasily and slowed, uncertain how to interpret the mixed signals from her back.

The cold drew closer around them and frost sparkled in Twelve’s condensed breath.

“It’s only so you don’t fall off, Five,” she said over her shoulder. She glanced at him and flinched. The whites of his eyes had darkened. Black pits stared back at her, devoid of recognition. The hairs at the nape of Twelve’s neck stood up.

“Who’re you?” he growled, his fingers creeping toward his sword. “Where’re you taking me?”

“Six,” Twelve said warningly. “Six,” she cried again, too late. Five snatched the blade from its sheath and jabbed it behind him. Six managed to throw himself back just in time, then tried to wrestle the sword from Five.

Surefoot bellowed her dismay, the sound heart-stoppingly loud in the silent forest. A strangler vine wormed across the ground to wrap around one of her paws and the brave beast panicked. With another great bellow, she ripped herself free of the vine and bolted, Five and Six still struggling in the saddle, and disappeared into the depths of the forest.

Dog surged after them and the movement took Twelve by surprise. She fell heavily to the ground, twisting to avoid crushing Widge.