Tracks are a tricky thing in the swamp. They can fill in if the ground is too wet or not take at all if the ground is too hard or uneven. It took us a minute, but we found them—Jesse’s cowboy boots, Orry’s sneakers, and my old work boots I had saved up for the summer before. The sun was starting to go down, but we were making good progress and every time we’d hit a patch without any tracks, one of us would spot some sign or recognize some landmark. Within a few feet of that, we’d pick up our old trail again.

We had been backtracking for probably ten minutes when Jesse froze. “What’s that?” I looked to where she was pointing, farther up the path we were taking. At first I didn’t see anything, but when I heard Orry let out a curse, I eased forward and looked again.

It was our tracks. But it wasn’t just our tracks. Because instead of three sets of footprints, there were four.

I knew the tread of our shoes, but the other tracks didn’t seem to have been made with shoes at all. Instead they looked like the marks left by bare feet, only feet that were strange—long and narrow and ending in spindly toes that seemed to sink deep into the ground. I sucked in a breath and saw my own fear mirrored in their faces. Me and Orry said it at the same time.

“Marrowtooth.”

****

There was an old legend around these parts of a coven of witches that used to roam the swamps late at night. They made wicked deals with old things that lived in the rotten heart of this place. One of those things was Marrowtooth. I never knew what he was supposed to be exactly—some said a demon, but I don’t know if that’s right. But if his origins and nature were unclear, his habit was not.

The stories went that if you got caught off by yourself in the dark parts of the swamp, you might find yourself being followed by Marrowtooth. He’d follow you for awhile, tricking you and getting you more turned around. And once he grew bored, he would fall on you and drain you dry.

The reason he was called Marrowtooth was because of how he looked and what he did. His head was slick like that silly putty you used to play with. Bare slits for eyes and a nose. But his mouth…well, his mouth was wide and strong, and when he opened it, you saw a single thick tooth coming down like a reaper’s scythe.