“They’d leave someone to guard the camp,” Ashyn said. “That’s the rule.”

“Doesn’t signify.”

Ronan turned on his uncle. “Stop saying that.”

His uncle raised a hand to cuff him, but Ronan ducked out of the way and lifted Moria’s dagger. His uncle looked at it, blinking, as if his nephew had rammed the blade into his back.

Ronan lowered the dagger. “It does signify. You know it does. Something happened to the villagers. All the villagers.”

“What do you want to do about that?” Ronan’s uncle stepped toward him. “If there’s someone—or something—out there, then there’s not a blasted thing we can do except be careful. Now grab supplies. We’ll follow the ribbon back to the village.”

Ronan’s uncle rooted through packs, grabbing food while Ronan stood at the clearing edge.

Ashyn stepped closer and lowered her voice. “You said you’ve seen things in the forest. I ought to know what I’m watching for.”

“Shadows, mostly. Sometimes a noise. It’s always gone when you look.”

Ashyn nodded and reached for her pack. That’s when she heard a sound in the woods. A soft whisper like the wind. Except she felt no wind.

Then the ground vibrated beneath her feet.

When she glanced over, she saw Ronan looking up into the trees, frowning as the noise came again, closer now.

“Do you feel that?” Ashyn whispered.

“I heard—”

“No. Feel.”

She bent and put her fingers to the ground. When she lifted them, she could still sense the vibrations strumming through the air.

“What is she—?” Ronan’s uncle began.

Ronan motioned for quiet. Ashyn closed her eyes, her fingers out as the air thrummed. The sound in the woods whistled around them, darting closer, then away.

It’s watching us, she thought. Whatever’s out there is watching us. Stalking us. But something’s keeping it back.

She was keeping it back. She had no power to banish evil spirits, as Moria did, but her very presence was supposed to keep them at bay.

“What do you sense?” Ronan’s voice startled her.

“I . . . don’t know. The air. It’s . . . vibrating. Something’s here.”

“Grab the packs. The lantern—” his uncle said.

A dark shape shot from the trees, so fast Ashyn had only time to yelp and fall back. It went straight for the lantern, swirling around it, and for a moment, she saw black smoke. And eyes. She was sure she saw eyes. Then the lantern went out, plunging them into darkness.

“Run!” Ronan’s uncle bellowed.

Ashyn looked toward him. In the dim light of the smoldering campfire, she saw his sword flash as a shadow swirled past. The blade cut through the smoke, dispersing it for a moment.

Ronan stood there, staring. He lunged toward his uncle, but she caught his elbow, yanked him back, and gave him a shove toward the marked path.

“Run!” his uncle shouted again.