It’s a crack in the Fold, somewhere she didn’t enclose quite well enough. It’s a secret route to and from the world, which she’s kept open for her own reasons. It’s someone or something entering from outside, and that’s why she’s rushing towards it, ready to defend or maybe greet them.

It’s someone escaping.

He considered diverting from his course to make sure Mallian was still secure in his holding place on the ground by the river, but that would take too long. His memory of the doorway from the world into the Fold was confused, but he could recall how quickly it had slammed shut when Grace decided the time was right.

One second to the next might mean the difference between escape, and eternal damnation. Hope kept him going and gave him speed, and the potential of hope being snatched away once more gave him strength. He loped uphill, spear in one hand and water skin over his shoulder, and though he felt better than he had in years, he still hated the place with a passion.

The effect of sunlight blazing through a rip in the world was strange, casting countless spears of light across the night-time landscape. He thought Grace must have reached the portal by now and gone through, so the fact that it was still open meant that she wanted it open. That was good for him.

No way she’d want the Kin to escape, he thought, and that slowed his forward motion. He didn’t believe the fairy hadn’t thought through whatever she was doing, but the fact that the doorway out of this world and into another was still open seemed strange.

“Fuck it,” he said, and he accelerated again.

The shape came out of nowhere. He sensed the weight of it first as the shadow parted from behind a pile of rocks and came at him. He brought the spear up to defend himself and it was plucked from his hand. He heard the wood snap as it was discarded. He fell and rolled, hoping to jump up again and run, but the shadow came with him, mirroring his movement, filling his field of vision even though he could not see what it was.

But he could smell it. The air was filled with the rancid sweet tang, and as he pushed himself away and tried to stand he puked, warm vomit running down his chin and splashing on his hands braced against the ground.

Something big slammed against his back and drove him into the ground. Winded, he tried to draw a breath in past the puke filling his mouth, inhaling it, choking, coughing and hacking as he attempted to draw in air once again. He kicked and crawled, because he knew that this was the moment when he was destined to die, and he would not go without a fight.