He shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” His tone is softer with her. He pauses, watching Liv in silence. I wonder what he scents, what passes between them through their tempers, because he nods and says, “Fine. We’ll stay.”

Wylan lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Yesss,” he says. “My feet are—”

“We know,” Collins interrupts. “Your feet are killing all of us.”

Perry tugs his bow over his shoulder. “Wylan, you and I will take first watch.”

“I’ll be right there,” Wylan says. When Perry shoots him a glare, Wylan adds, “It’s not even dark yet.”

Perry starts to say something, catches himself, and leaves without a word.

Since Liv and Perry picked up human scents earlier, we don’t risk a fire. And we’ve already eaten, so there’s nothing to do but talk or sleep. I keep my eyes on Liv while Wylan and Collins prattle on about nothing. As daylight fades and the night cools, I try to read her thoughts, my heart racing though I’m sitting still.

Will she choose love or duty?

A life of hiding in the woods or as a purchased bride?

She has hard choices to make. I want to support her. This is her decision. But the part of me that wants to tie her up and haul her away with me is winning. I can’t stand by much longer. I won’t.

“Roar.”

Perry’s voice carries from a distance, but it’s sharp with urgency. I’m on my feet in an instant, scanning the trees, listening. I hear his feet pounding through the woods before I spot him. When I do, any doubt I have that we’re being attacked vanishes. Perry runs toward us at a full sprint.

“There are at least a dozen,” he says, when he reaches us. “The best chance we have is to outrun them.”

I shake my head. “It’s too late.” I hear footsteps. Behind us. Ahead of us. They’re faint, but they are everywhere. “There’s more than a dozen of them, and they’ve surrounded us.”

Perry curses, and I know we’re all absorbing the same fact: no matter what, we’ll have to fight our way out.

“Which way should we go?” Liv asks me. Her half-sword is drawn. She doesn’t look pale or fragile anymore. Collins pulls his bow off his shoulder. Wylan has turned white beside him.

I listen again, calibrating. Searching for the direction where I hear fewer footsteps. For the path, I hope, of least resistance. “This way.”

We grab our packs and sprint through the pine trees.