For a minute, cold fear stilled my fingers. Then I remembered the pistol, tucked into my pack. It would be a fool’s game to shoot my stalker, but I could distract it. Give myself some time to move. I thought about climbing a tree, then dismissed the idea. Trees were not my forte. I’d be better off finding a new place to hide. Still, finding higher ground seemed like a sensible idea. If I got to a safe place, I could shine my light on this creature and see what it was. I tucked the lighter away and dug into my pack.

Once the pistol was in my hand, I set about extracting a dart. Every move I made seemed noisy: every exhalation, every rustle of my jacket. Finally I could feel the cold, smooth cylinder of a dart against my fingers. I knew how to load an ordinary gun, but it took me a few minutes to equip the unfamiliar weapon in the dark, with clammy hands, trying my utmost not to make a sound. Once it was ready, I lifted my arms, aimed, fired.

When the dart hit home, it sizzled like hot fat in a pan. The creature ran toward the source of the sound. It carried a sound of its own. A buzzing. Flies.

This wasn’t an animal.

Nausea surged through me. I’d heard so much about the Emim, but I’d never really pictured facing one of their number. Even after what I’d heard at the oration, even after the red-jacket had lost his hand, I’d almost started to believe they didn’t exist. Until now.

It was all I could do to keep myself standing. My hands shook and my lips trembled. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Could it hear my pulse? Could it smell my fear? Was it slavering over my flesh yet, or did I have to get closer before it could detect me?

I loaded another dart into the gun. The Buzzer sniffed at the place I’d shot. I closed my eyes and reached for the æther.

Something was wrong. Very wrong. All the local spirits had fled, like they were afraid, but why would spirits fear any creature of the physical world? It wasn’t as if they could die again. Whatever the case, there was nothing to spool.

I became aware that I couldn’t hear the Buzzer anymore. My hands were sweat-slick. I could hardly grip the gun. I could be dead at any moment. Dead meat.

The whole thing must have been a setup. Nashira had never wanted me to earn my colors. She just wanted me to die.

Not today, I thought. Not today, Nashira.

I ran out from behind the tree. My boots pounded, my heart thrashed at my chest. Where was it? Had it seen me yet?