We creep after the squirrel, and I keep the threads of my magic hooked into the little animal’s mind. Calm thoughts fill the connection between us, some of my own hunger no doubt creeping in too. Soon the squirrel feels safe with us following close behind, and we no longer need to work hard not to scare him. The forest begins to thin, but the squirrel knows his path. Soon we hit a break in the trees, and the woods open up into fields for miles with a little village overlooking them on a hill.

The field directly in front of us contains an apple orchard.

Sebastian and I grin, and the squirrel squeaks. Then he launches forward through the tall grass.

We waste no time doing the same.

We scoop apples into my satchel, then huddle under the largest tree and eat our way through the spoils. The apples are crunchy and sweet, and I don’t care a whit that juice runs down my chin. It’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.

“That was brilliant,” Sebastian says. But as our hunger fades, the fear creeps back into his thoughts. “What do you think the body walker wanted with my sister?”

My hands twist the stem off an apple. “I don’t know. I’m sorry, Sebastian.” I thought the talented folks who were freed would all be good and happy to be human again. Everyone else found their families, after all. It never occurred to me until now that some of them might be just as bad as Lady Aisling herself. I shudder, and Sebastian sucks his breath in sharply as a wave of panic rolls over him.

That’s when we hear the dogs.

First the barks, then as they get closer, their singular thoughts buzz in my head: thieves, thieves, thieves…

I scramble to my feet, dragging Sebastian with me. Frantically, I glance around but find no easy hiding place.

The woods it is.

Run, I think to Sebastian, and we take off into the forest, just as the dogs reach the orchard. Hoofbeats pound after them, no doubt the owner of this orchard, unhappy that we’ve trespassed.

We have no good excuse to make, no money to pay for what we’ve eaten. Flight is the only option.

Our feet are tired, and we stumble often. Soon our legs and arms are covered in cuts and scratches. But we dare not stop. We don’t even notice the direction we run, we just keep moving, terror filling every single thought.

We don’t see the shack until we’re nearly on top of it.

We skid to a halt, our already short breaths stuttering in our chests. The roof is lopsided, and the wood holding the structure up looks as though it could topple any second.

But it’s also the only place we have to hide. The dogs’ sharp barks still echo through the woods after us. We don’t have much time.

We creak open the door, hearts thudding in our ears. Only when we close the door behind us do we take in the room.