The creature—the person, actually—was an old woman even shorter than Jorick. A strange smell wafted off of her, something musty and earthy and strangely familiar, though Evin couldn’t remember if he’d ever seen her about town before. She parted her thin lips, revealing a mouth of stained yellow teeth—what teeth there were left, anyway. Clucking, she shook her head.

“Kids today,” she croaked. “Hooligans, the lot of you. Always bothering me while I do my shopping.”

Evin and Jorick stood still, their swords raised high and their mouths slack. The old woman shoved between them, studied the jars that lay shattered over the floor, and resumed digging through the mayor’s supplies.

Chapter Four

Evin blinked as he watched the old woman dig through the rubble and place items in her apron as though oblivious to the destruction around her or the fact that it was quite dark and difficult to see.

After a moment, he cleared his throat. “Um, excuse me.”

The woman ignored him, choosing instead to peer intently inside a barrel full of pickles.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Evin said, louder this time. Beside him, Jorick still looked on slack jawed.

The woman stuck one gnarled hand into the barrel’s briny water, pulled out a pickle, sniffed it, and dropped it in the folds of her apron.

Finally, Jorick regained his bearings. Brow furrowed, he took two heavy steps forward and gripped the woman firmly by her arm. “Hey!” he said. “My friend is talking to you, la—whoa!”

Green sparks burst from the woman’s arm and Jorick reeled backward. As he lost control of his sword, the weight of the weapon threw him off balance and he fell on his backside.

The old woman turned on the two boys, a spindly, knotted finger held high. She looked between them with her eerily yellow eyes slitted.

“I told you two ruffians,” she said in her raspy, froglike voice, “I need to do my shopping! I haven’t time to discipline two unbridled lads who haven’t learned to mind their elders. Gods forbid a day go by without one of you lot trying to ruin my day!”

“But …” Evin stammered, “ma’am, it’s night. Monsters have taken all of the villagers. The entire village has been burned down and this isn’t a shop, it’s a storehouse. Didn’t … didn’t you notice?”

The woman’s finger stopped midwag and she raised one of her molting eyebrows. She looked up at the wide-open space above her where the storehouse’s roof used to be.

“Hmm,” she said. “I was wondering why it was so quiet around here, and so messy. Well, no matter. Doesn’t change the fact I need to stock up for the week.” With a shrug of her shoulders, the woman turned around and once again resumed ransacking the shelves.