Rain pattered against the forest canopy. Evin almost couldn’t look at the campfire he and Jorick had built. It kept reminding him of home—of his former home, anyway. Memories appeared in his mind then: Just the day before, he’d spent the day working with his father to prepare rooms for the traders from Forestedge who were supposed to be coming in that evening. Just the day before, Marten had given him the little dagger he’d carved, a gift for Evin after he successfully swiped the insufferable assistant mayor’s monogrammed handkerchief. Just the day before …

It was all gone now. His father and his demands. His mother, who always kept the inn’s patrons laughing while she delivered their drinks. Marten and his secret lessons on being a rogue. The inn he’d longed to escape was now nothing but a pile of embers.

But just because the village was gone didn’t mean the people who had lived there were gone. The monsters hadn’t killed anyone, not that Evin had seen. They had taken them somewhere. Evin could track down the villagers.

Now he’d get to be a hero like he had always wanted.

He sighed. He’d wanted a new life—but not like this. Not at the expense of everyone he ever knew.

Jorick sat on the other side of the fire, his hair soaked with rainwater. His jaw was clenched. The flames cast menacing shadows over his features.

Evin’s stomach growled. They needed food. And more important, they needed to figure out where the dog-men had taken their families.

He stood up and wiped the mud from his trousers as best he could. He kicked dirt onto the fire, dousing most of the flames.

Jorick leaped to his feet. “Is it time?” he asked. “You think it’s been long enough?”

Searching through the nearby brush for a broken branch that was mostly dry, Evin nodded. “The fires are probably out by now, and those creatures are gone. We should go see what’s left.”

Jorick narrowed his eyes. “You kept us waiting so that we could scavenge? I thought you were just trying to keep us alive so we could go rescue them. I know you hated your dad, but I’m not letting mine get eaten by monsters.”

“I won’t either!” Evin said. “Of course we’re going after them. But first we need supplies …”—he hesitated, then added in a quiet voice—“and I didn’t hate my father.”

Jorick stomped past Evin into the trees and toward the village. “If you say so.”

Evin put the tip of the branch he had found into the dying fire and let it light, then kicked dirt over the rest of the campfire and followed Jorick through the trees.