Twelve was cutting through the side of the cocoon, hoping she could make an opening big enough for Foxpaw to squeeze out of. She didn’t dare try to slice through the thinner webbing over his face for fear of cutting him.

“Did you feel that?” Foxpaw asked suddenly, his voice even more muffled than normal as he twisted his head in his casing, trying to see above them. “Is it coming back?” His voice was laced with panic.

Twelve paused and looked around. Below, Six, Widge, and Dog gazed up at her while Five lolled senselessly on Surefoot. There was nothing on the web with them besides the other disturbing cocoons.

“We’re fine,” she said, trying to sound soothing as she hacked through a particularly tough thread.

“Uh . . . Twelve?” Six called. There was something in his voice that made her heart miss a beat. “Might . . . uh . . . want to pick up the pace a bit?”

A frightened squeak sounded from next to her. Foxpaw wriggled so hard that the cocoon began to spin. The area she’d been working on rotated out of reach.

“Stop that,” she hissed, glancing up fearfully.

One of her arms was hooked securely around a web silk. With the other, she pulled the cocoon back, digging her blade into the sticky white mass more firmly, trying to work faster. Slowly, Foxpaw’s fingers emerged, tugging desperately at the ragged edges of the hole, trying to enlarge it.

“Don’t leave me!” he begged, his golden eyes fixed on Twelve’s sweating face.

“I don’t intend to!” Twelve snapped, wiggling the blade furiously, cursing how sticky everything was. “Although a few minutes ago you were asking us to kill you.”

“Yes, but I didn’t realize then that escape was an option,” he whispered. “I thought Hunters were only interested in themselves. We are taught never to approach them, let alone ask for help.”

“Oh,” Twelve grunted. “Well, like Six said, we’re not proper Hunters yet.” The web was vibrating unmistakably now. An icicle dropped with a thwump into the snow beneath them and an ominous rustle sounded in the canopy above.

“Hurry!” Foxpaw whispered and then yelped as Twelve nicked him with her knife.

“Sorry,” she winced.

The gap was big enough now for Foxpaw to shove an arm and a shoulder out. He strained with all his might to force his way through, only to pull back, panting. “I can’t—it’s still too small.”

Cursing, Twelve hacked violently at the edges and succeeded in extending the gap with a furious upward slash.

“Twelve!” Six called, his voice high-pitched. “It’s coming!” Beside him, Widge squealed, his tail flicking frantically.

“Move, Twelve!” Dog barked at the same time.