She opened the door. It was dark inside. Tova pushed past hard enough to nearly topple her.

“Father?” she whispered. The closing door stole the gray glow of the overcast night, plunging them into black. “Moria?”

She felt her way to the table and lit a lantern. It hissed, then flared. Ronan cast an anxious look at the window.

“Cover it,” he whispered.

She frowned at him.

“Hide the light.”

She turned the lantern down as much as she could. Tova was at her father’s bedroom door, his nose at the base, whining louder. She walked over and grasped the handle. Tova spun, hitting her hard and knocking her back. Then he planted all four feet and growled. Warning her back, as he’d done in the forest.

She stared at the door, her heart thumping.

Ronan came up behind her and snatched the lantern. He opened the bedroom door just enough to squeeze through. Ashyn tried to follow, but Tova knocked her down, then planted himself over her, growling.

She stared up at him in shock. He ducked his head, whining, as if in apology, but when she tried to rise, he pinned her cloak with one massive paw.

Ronan stepped from the bedroom. The door clicked shut behind him. He held the lantern low, and she couldn’t see his face.

“We have to leave,” he said.

“What?” She scrambled up, knocking Tova aside. “Where’s my father? Moria? Are they gone?”

A pause. Then, “Yes.”

“All right. We’ll find them. I have a few ideas where—”

He caught her cloak as she turned to the door. “We need to get out of the village.”

She stared at him. “What?”

“We have to leave. Now.”

“We . . . we can’t. We’re in the middle of the Wastes. I’m not permitted to leave. I’m the Seeker. And . . . and Moria, my father.” She took a deep breath. “You can go. I’ll tell no one you’ve escaped. You’ll need to grab supplies.” She waved at the kitchen. “Take what you want. Tova and I will find my—”

He stepped in front of her as she turned. “There’s no one to find, Ashyn.”

“What?”

He laid his hand on her shoulder. “When I said they’re gone, I meant—”

She didn’t let him finish. She pushed past him, yanked open the bedroom door, ran inside, and tripped over something. She fell face-first, her chin striking the floor, teeth catching her tongue with a sharp blast of pain. She flipped around to see what she’d tripped over.

An arm. There was an arm stretched from a dark heap on the floor. She struggled for breath as she scrambled over, still on her hands and feet, getting closer.

When she saw the misshapen fingers and thick, clawlike nails, tears sprang to her eyes. She looked at that ugly, monstrous hand and thought she’d never seen anything more beautiful in her life.