But then she raises her head as if she is sniffing the air, something catching her attention from the corner of her eye, and she darts off back toward the village. Back into the fog and my friends and neighbors. Back to her sustenance.

Harry comes to grab me, to urge me down the path. Argos spins around us both, barking and growling at the Unconsecrated that pulse against the fences on either side of us. But I refuse to move, to go any farther. Instead, I lace my fingers through the mesh of the gate where Gabrielle just stood and look through the early morning haze back toward our home.

“It was her,” I whisper. My body is beginning to go numb, as if it can't take any more and it's shutting down.

Harry tugs at my arm, tries to pull me away from staring at the carnage swirling in the mist.

“What are you talking about, Mary?”

“The one I was telling you about last night.” I start to beat at the gate, wanting to feel as many emotions as possible to prove that I am still alive. “Gabrielle. The girl who came down the path.

She was the one who caused this. She was the reason …”

“Mary, what are you talking about?” His voice is sharp around the edges, as if he will shatter at any moment.

I feel as if I'm ripping apart inside, everything fragmenting at once. “Don't you see? They did this to her! The Sisters, they caused this and—”

Harry pries my fingers from the fence and pulls me against his body. “That doesn't matter anymore.”

I struggle against him, not wanting comfort as fury and terror mix in the pit of my stomach.

“But what if the Guardians had something to do with—”

“I said it does not matter, Mary!” His voice rumbles through my chest, vibrating my entire body. “What is done is done and now is not the time to speak of it!” I bow my head. I know I shouldn't press him and yet I can't help it. “But it proves—”

“No!” he shouts. His nostrils flare and he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, shakes his head.

When he speaks again his words are carefully measured, barely contained. “It proves nothing.

Only that the fences have been breached and that our village is under attack and that we are not there to help them.”

Looking back at the village, I see figures moving but I can't tell if they are living or Unconsecrated. I can't tell if it is a skirmish, a battle or a war. I think I see that flash of red again but I can't be sure that it isn't my mind playing tricks on me. Telling me what I want to see.

But then there is someone coming toward us out of the fog. Two people approaching. I take a step back, wondering if it's more Unconsecrated. Wondering how I have now found myself on the side of the Forest fearing what is in my village.