Rylander groaned, as he had every five minutes since Apollo had vanished from our tender. Even if Apollo had granted me permission to share his whispered secret, I wouldn’t for fear Rylander would lose focus. Besides, Apollo reiterated that it had only been one of many visions. Anything could happen.

Yellow eyes followed me inside a tree-hollow den, and I scooted closer to Rylander. “Are the animals friendly here?” I whispered, peeking at the hollow around his shoulder.

“That depends on the animal.” He followed my wary stare and smiled. Every time his dimple popped, a flutter stirred low in my stomach. Then I recalled Artemis’ warning, and my hands clasped in front of my stomach. Mood killer.

One yellow-eyed creature tiptoed out of its hiding spot, clinging to the bark with delicate claws. The furry red beast’s mouth hung open, revealing a forked tongue.

“What is that?” I pointed.

It crept closer, pricking rabbit-like ears almost the length of its body. The creature scurried down the tree and dug its front paws into the ground, posturing like a bull though it was more the size of a small dog.

“I think it’s mad. Or hungry.” I clung to Rylander’s arm, watching the bushy tail whip side to side.

Rylander laughed. “It’s just a Bunox. He’s harmless.” Rylander waved me off. “Just ignore him.”

My grip tightened. “I can’t. It’s staring at me.”

Rylander cocked a brow at my savage hold on his limb and shook his head. “You almost drowned with me in a sea of corpses, but a harmless Bunox has your knickers in a knot.” He clapped his hands twice, and the creature fled into its hole. “Better?”

I released his arm and the breath I had been holding.

“Can we continue now?” Rylander didn’t wait for an answer.

Insects buzzed around my ears, immune to my ceaseless swatting. My head twitched at every little noise, but Rylander didn’t seem fazed about any of it. Born amidst the island’s sounds, he traversed the forest as comfortably as a ship’s deck.

Sharp trills above tilted my chin up, and I shaded my eyes against the blinding sun. Silhouettes of birds soared overhead, and as they flew in lowering circles, I gasped. They were the size of Savina or bigger. They dipped into the treetops, swooping right in front of us, then up and away, disappearing only to reappear in the distance. They looked like a cross between a hawk and a heron, sleek and streamlined but with crooked, webbed feet that dangled behind them. My brow pinched.

“Their legs are long so that they can stand in high tide—they act like stilts," Rylander offered when he saw me take notice. “Most animals on this island live on land and water.”

Perfect. Nowhere to hide.