So far, Ashyn had located eleven bodies. There had been sixteen exiled since last spring’s Seeking, plus two that hadn’t been found then. So she had seven left to find. There was also the possibility of locating the remains of long-dead exiles whose spirits haunted these woods. But if she found the seven, she would be done. She’d have one more day to do it. Then they headed home. It was too dangerous to be in the forest longer, and they had brought only enough supplies for two days.

She was calculating this as she moved away from the bodies.

“It’s growing late, my lady,” Faiban said.

“Just one more try,” she said. “There’s still light.”

He squinted into the near-darkness. “The governor expects—”

A shriek cut him short. He wheeled, sword raised.

“Night birds,” he said, but he kept the sword up, his gaze sliding from side to side.

There are no birds here.

Another shriek, this one clearly human, sounding as if it came from the direction they’d left.

Ashyn started running back. Faiban swung into the lead. When they neared the clearing where they’d left the bodies, Faiban lifted his hand for her to stay back. She waited a moment and then crept close enough to see him standing in the clearing, looking around with his sword lowered and his lantern raised.

The bodies were still there. The old man lay on the blanket the villagers used for transporting them. The woman’s corpse seemed to have been lifted and dropped, crumpled now, one arm askew.

“Why did they leave them?” Ashyn asked.

“I don’t . . .” Faiban adjusted his grip on the sword and pointed it at the woman’s body. “I think they realized two would be too heavy to drag back. They must have gone to get help.”

“Why not take the old man and return for the woman?”

“It’s too dark,” he said. “They’d never find the way back if they weren’t quick about it.”

That wasn’t true. They’d marked the site, and the hacked path wouldn’t grow in by morning.

A twig cracked to the east. When they turned, the forest had gone silent. Eerily silent. Travelers always marveled at the silence of the Wastes, but if you’d lived out there long enough, you could hear the sounds of life—beetles and lizards and snakes and birds. In the forest, there was none of that. Even the wind had died, leaving a silence so complete she could hear Faiban’s breathing.

“We need to head for camp, my lady.”

Faiban started along the path. As Ashyn turned to follow, her hand brushed something wet and warm and she fell back with a yelp. She looked over to see a dark shape on a low tree limb. She lifted her lantern. It was a piece of meat, almost like a ball, but . . .