“Run!” Ash says, and we shove ourselves up, my legs moving so quickly that I’m shocked they don’t slip out from under me. An arrow flies by my head, so close that I feel its wind on my cheek.

I sprint through the woods, Ash by my side, our boots pounding through dry leaves and snapping twigs with each step. Another arrow hits the tree next to me. By the evenly measured delay between shots, I would guess there’s only one archer. And whoever it is has excellent aim in the dark with moving targets. I push my legs harder, demanding that they move faster. I lead us in a zigzagged path behind trees and fallen branches, aware that if I ease up for one second or give the archer a clean shot, one of us will die.

“Up, Ash,” I breathe as we run full-speed toward the closely clustered patch of trees I was looking for. My hand-to-hand combat skills are definitely lacking and I’ve got much better chances of holding my own off the ground.

I grab the tree trunk and hoist myself up onto a familiar branch. I glance over my shoulder, but Ash isn’t behind me. Sheer panic squeezes my chest. I scan the trees, looking for signs of him. But the only thing I see is a light-colored bow, and it’s pointed directly at me. I immediately jump to a neighboring branch and an arrow hits the trunk. I can’t run without knowing where Ash is, but I can’t stay here, either.

I yank my gloves off and shove them in my pockets, wiping my now-sweaty hands on my coat. I peek around the trunk, and just as I do, Ash lands a kick, not on our attacker, but on his bow. The wood cracks and splits. The Strategia, who I can now see is a man both taller and broader than Ash, takes a swing before Ash can recover his footing. The impact is so hard that I hear the thunk as the guy’s fist connects with Ash’s skull. Ash goes flying into the tree behind him, but the guy doesn’t stay to fight. Instead, he turns and takes off in my direction.

His black hood flies back as he runs, revealing his brown hair and short beard. His strides are so long that they encompass two of mine. Ash is moving now, too, but he’s a good twenty feet behind. I turn and scramble along the branch faster than is safe.