The soldier wandered away, but it was a number of minutes before Katsa was able to climb down. She’d heard the man’s words, even with her hands over her ears. She’d fought against them, but still they’d clouded her mind. She sat in the tree, shuddering, while Po grasped her chin, looked into her eyes, and talked her through her confusion.

“All right,” she said finally. “My mind is clear.”

They clambered down. They moved quickly and left as little trace as possible of their own passage.

NEAR THE ENTRANCE to the forest, things became tricky. The soldiers were everywhere, gathered in groups, moving in every direction. She and Po ran for short bursts when Po decided it was safe, and then hid.

Once, Po grabbed her arm and jerked her backward, and they raced back the way they’d come. They found a great mossy rock and hunched behind it, Po’s hands clapped over her ears, his eyes glowing with a fierce concentration. Wedged between the rock and Po, his heart beating fast against her body, she knew this time they hid from more than mere soldiers. They waited, it seemed interminably. Then Po took her wrist and motioned for her to follow. They crept away by a different route, one that widened the distance between them and the Monsean king.

WHEN THEY were as close to the entrance to the forest as Po deemed safe, they turned south, as they hoped Bitterblue had done. When a stream bubbled across their path Po stopped. He crouched down and clutched his head. Katsa stood beside him and watched and listened, waiting for him to sense something from the forest or from the memory of Ashen’s hope.

“There’s nothing,” he said finally. “I can’t tell if this is the right stream.”

Katsa crouched beside him. “If the soldiers haven’t found her yet,” she said, “then she left no obvious trace, even in all this snow and mud. She must have had the presence of mind to walk through a stream, Po. Every stream in this forest flows from mountain to valley. She would’ve known to go west, away from the valleys. Is there any harm in following this stream west? If we don’t stumble upon her, we can continue south and search the next stream.”

“This seems a bit hopeless,” Po said, but he stood, turned with her, and followed the water west. When Katsa found a tangle of long, dark hair snagged on a branch that snapped against her stomach, she called Po’s name in his mind. She held the tangle of hair up for him to see. She tucked it into her sleeve and enjoyed the slightly more hopeful expression on his face.

When the stream curved sharply and entered a little hollow of grasses and ferns, Po stopped and held up his hand. “I recognize this place. This is it.”

“Is she here?”

He stood for a moment. “No. But let’s continue up the stream. Quickly. I fear there may be soldiers on our tail.”