I listened. “Hear what? I don’t hear anything,” I said. Then it hit me. The hair on the back of my neck rose. “The whippoorwills. They’ve stopped singing.”

Something was wrong. Hosea’s uncharacteristically heavy footsteps rushed toward me. I hastily retied my aura, eager to get to his side. I stepped from behind the trees and ran. I took one step—two. A group of men materialized around me, their spears gleaming. I came to a sliding stop and opened my mouth to warn Hosea, but a hand snaked around my throat.

“Move and you die, English.”

Something sharp pressed the side of my neck. I froze.

The Bandits

THE BANDITS

A minute later, Hosea appeared in the clearing—captured. He looked me over, then his eyes found the bandit behind me. He tensed and his lips parted expectantly. I sensed their eyes meeting over my head; then the bandit tightened his grip on my neck, and the expectant look faded from Hosea’s gaze.

I frowned, wondering if Hosea recognized our captors. A second later, the suspicion passed as three men with spears guided William into our midst. Two more came with our horses. Including the man at my back, I counted six men in all.

There were terrible stories of the outlaws that lurked in verboten lands. Scavengers and cannibals. I rolled my eyes to catch a look at the one that had me.

He sneered, revealing red-stained teeth. He wore a patch over one eye. His other winked cruelly as he moved his spear along my cheek.

“Do you smell that, English?” he said, his eye catching mine.

I stifled a whimper. His weapon smelled like dung.

“That,” he said, poking my jugular, “is the smell of rattler venom. If the bleeding doesn’t get you, the poison will. Make no mistake. Move and die.” Baring his red gums, he glanced at my pack. “I’ll have your sack, English.”

He was so close his saliva was wet on my cheek. I shivered. To produce my pack, I’d have to bend my neck, which strained to avoid his spear.

Hosea called out, “Here, take mine.” I looked at him. His hands were spread in surrender, low at his side, close to his weapon, which they hadn’t seized, likely not realizing it posed a threat. His eyes flashed to mine, revealing his plan. He couldn’t go for his weapon with the bandit’s spear so close to my neck. But, if the bandit moved the spear from my throat in an effort to get his pack, we were saved.

The lead bandit, holding me, showed his bloody grin around the clearing. “Don’t mind if I do,” he said, and the other bandits leered back.

“Fly Man, move!” the leader shouted.