As the girl—Leelo—led him farther into the woods, Jaren couldn’t help but wonder what the odds were that of all the people on this island, he’d found her, the same girl he’d seen at the lake’s edge. Lupin had told him that outsiders would die in the Forest if they made it past the lake. He assumed she’d meant because of the Watchers. And now here he was, following one of them into that very Forest, with no idea what her intentions were.

Jaren knew he should be questioning Leelo and where she was taking him, but he also knew that she was his best hope for getting off this island, assuming he could convince her not to kill him herself. His mind had been so full of fear and confusion since he first encountered the wolf that it was a relief to follow someone else for a few minutes, to give his brain a moment to process where he was. Besides, Leelo seemed to have a destination in mind, and that was better than what he’d had when he ran into her.

As he limped behind her, his stomach roiled with nausea from the pain in his leg. He studied the pale braid snaking between her slim but square shoulders, the bow across her back, the soft falls of her feet. He tried to picture Story in her place, to give himself something other than the pain to focus on, but his mind could only conjure an image of her cursing as she tried to tear her skirt free from the undergrowth. She wouldn’t know how to walk quietly in the woods if her life depended on it.

Finally, Leelo came to a stop, peering into the undergrowth as if she was looking for something. “There,” she said after a moment. It took him a little longer than her to see what she’d found: a small, crooked shack hidden among the trees.

He followed her through the slanted door into the cramped space, where he was forced to bend his knees to avoid hitting his head.

“What is this place?” he asked as she struck a match and lit a candle.

“Just a cottage.”

The word seemed far too generous for whatever this was.

“My friend used it to... Well, it doesn’t matter. No one else knows about it. You should be safe here.”

He collapsed onto a blanket on the floor, wincing as the pain in his leg intensified. “Thank you. For helping me.”

She reeled a little, like he’d struck her. “I’m not helping you,” she said, her voice suddenly cold. A silence followed that begged to be filled, and he knew there was more she wasn’t saying.

“Right, of course.”

She dropped her gaze. “Your leg. It’s bad, isn’t it?”