“I’m fine!” she cried as Dog half turned to her. “Make sure Five and Six are all right. I’ll be here when you get back.”

He hesitated. Then he nodded, once, and was gone.

Chapter

Twenty-Four

Silence closed around Twelve like shackles. Widge pressed himself against her cheek, his fur a welcome patch of warmth in the relentless cold. Ice cracked underfoot as she stood and they both winced at the sound. Heart jolting, she pulled the axes off her back, immediately feeling better with them in her hands.

Through the frost-flecked air, Twelve caught a glimpse of movement between the tree trunks.

“That was fast,” she called, relieved. “Everyone all right?”

Silence.

Widge scampered to the ground toward the movement, then froze, one paw raised, bushy tail stiff as he stared into the gnarled trees.

Slowly, Twelve realized all the hairs along her arms were prickling with goose bumps. Then Widge shrieked—a high, sharp alarm call she’d never heard before. He turned and fled back to her shoulder, where he shrieked again and again, his gaze fixed on the trees ahead. She could feel him trembling even through all her layers.

Twelve’s heart began to pound, and she tried desperately to focus through her dread. Silver wouldn’t panic, she berated herself, and Victory wouldn’t either. That knowledge sharpened her mind and Twelve turned slowly on the spot, forcing her gaze into every bush, every shadow, every shifting haze. Her senses were on high alert and adrenaline fizzed through her veins.

There.

Twelve spun to face the movement, but it was already gone. Cursing softly, she resumed her slow, steady turn, Widge acting as eyes behind her, his tail brushing her cheek. Everything was silent; even the ice under her feet didn’t make a sound. A sheen of sweat broke out over her forehead and she clenched her jaw, fighting down her rising fear.

Another movement. Almost too quick to see. A shape flitting between trunks.

The outline shifted again, its movements slower and easier to follow now. Twelve scowled into the mist, adjusting her sweaty grip on the axes. With slow, deep breaths, she steadied her heartbeat as the shape moved closer to her, appearing only for an instant between trees.

“Starling?” A whisper.

Twelve’s breath juddered and the axes slipped in her hands. She scrabbled to hold on to them.

“Starling!” Insistent.

From between two twisted trunks, a silhouette emerged, moving hesitantly at first, then with more confidence, coming closer until Twelve could finally see it clearly.

Slight build. Gray eyes. A cloud of dark hair.

Shock froze Twelve to the spot and her lips moved soundlessly.

Standing in front of her was her little sister, Poppy.

Chapter

Twenty-Five

A distant part of Twelve knew that she should move, speak, anything. But she couldn’t. She just stared, fragments of thoughts whirling uselessly around her head, a strange pressure building in the front of her skull.