“There isn’t time, they’re coming now!” Barrow hisses, suddenly at my side. He takes my elbow and not gently. “You have to go!”

Two snaps of my fingers. The team obeys, dropping whatever isn’t packed away. I guess we’ll have to steal some more tents down the line, but it’s the least of my worries. Another snap, and they fly like bullets from a gun. Cara, Tye, Rasha, and the rest going through the door and the collapsed wall, in all directions with all speed. The woods swallow them whole.

Tristan waits for me because it’s his job. Barrow waits because—because I don’t know.

“Farley,” he hisses. Another tug at my arm.

I cast one last glance, making sure we have everything, before making my own escape into the tree line. The men follow, keeping pace with my sprint through tangled roots and brush. My heart pounds in my ears, beating a harried drum. We’ve had worse. We’ve had worse.

Then I hear the dogs.

Animos-controlled hounds. They’ll smell us, they’ll follow, and the swifts will run us down. If we’re lucky they’ll think we’re deserters and kill us in the forest. If not—I don’t want to think about what horrors the black city of Corvium holds.

“Get to water,” I force out. “They’ll lose the scent!”

But the river is a half mile on.

I only hope they take the time to search the farmhouse, giving us the window we need to escape. At least the others are farther on, spread wide. No pack can follow us all. But me, us, the freshest, closest scent? Easy prey.

Despite the protest in my muscles, I push harder and run faster than I ever have before. But after only a minute, only a minute, I start to tire. If only I could run as fast as my thundering heart.

Tristan slows with me, though he doesn’t need to. “There’s a creek,” he hisses, pointing south. “Shoots off the river, closer. You head for it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can make it to the river. You can’t. And they can’t follow us both.”

My eyes widen. I almost trip in my confusion, but Barrow catches me before I can, sternly helping me over a gnarled root. “Tristan—”

My lieutenant only smiles and pats the gun slung across his back. Then he points. “That way, Boss.”

Before I can stop him, before I can order him not to, he leaps through the trees, using his long legs and the lower branches to vault over worsening ground. I can’t shout after him. Somehow I don’t even get a good look at his face. Only a mop of red hair, gleaming through the green.

Barrow all but shoves me. I think he looks relieved, but that can’t be right. Especially when a dog howls not a hundred yards away. And the trees above us seem to bow, their branches reaching like cloying fingers. Greenwardens. Animosi. Swifts. The Silvers will catch us both.

“Farley.” Suddenly both his hands are on my jaw, forcing me to look at a shockingly calm face. There’s fear, of course, flickering in his golden eyes. But not nearly enough for the situation. Not like me. I am terrified. “You have to promise not to scream.”