Behind him, he heard movement, a sudden rustling, and he turned to look. A shadow moved slowly through the trees, bent low, scrabbling on all fours, head close to the ground. An animal, tracking. It was moving slantwise to where he crouched at the edge of the ravine, not yet seeing him, but sensing his presence, realizing he was close. He froze, watching it creep through the grasses, appearing and disappearing. He felt his throat tighten and his mouth go dry. He had never been so afraid.

–Follow–

Mechanically, he started moving ahead again, his thoughts scattered, his mind on the consequences he would face if his pursuer caught up to him. He saw Bandit stretched lifeless on the grassy flats near Taupo Rough. He saw the desiccated bodies of Gar Hatch and his crew hanging from the spars of the Skatelow. He felt Cinnaminson shiver against him as she told him some of what she had endured as a captive. He felt his skin crawl as he imagined what it would be like for him if he were caught.

–Quickly–

No longer pretending that there was any time left, that he could afford to rely on stealth and caution to see him through, he began to run in a low crouch. His only chance was to reach the bridge and his companions. Surely Kermadec was a match for that monster. Surely Khyber could call on the Elfstones to stop it.

Please, please, someone must be able to help!

Then he heard the sudden, explosive sound of his pursuer coming fast, tearing through the trees, heedless of caution. He wheeled back to see the shadowy form bounding toward him, the glint of its strange weapon flashing in the darkness in small bursts of silver fire. Pen backed toward the ravine’s edge, lifting the darkwand to defend himself, a pitiful weapon employed in a hopeless effort.

–Stop. Do not move. Trust us–

What choice did he have? There was nowhere left to go. He waited helplessly, staff lifted, body tensed, not knowing what he was going to do, no longer able to think clearly, watching as his pursuer drew closer, grew larger, turned darker than the night about him. He could see its cloak and hood. He could see that they were shredded and blackened with blood, the result of its encounter with the moor cat days earlier. It looked ragged and wild, something left over from the netherworld. It came at him in a frenzy, screaming, the sound so chilling that the boy very nearly broke and ran in spite of the admonition of his protectors.

–Stand. Be strong–

Help me, he thought.

Then the monster was on top of him.