9
“Liam,” Finn called out when we reached his tent.
I raised my fist and banged on the tent pole.
“Liam, are you in there?” Finn asked.
“Finn.” Liam’s voice came from behind us.
The pinching let go of my lungs.
“They told me you were back,” Liam said. “How did it go?”
I turned to look at him. His skin shone from sweat. The edges of his hair had curled from it. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and the beginnings of a giant bruise marked his arm.
“Well,” Finn said. “The tracker was dead right with the location of the girl. Mother gave her to us, but the rest of the family stayed behind.”
Liam dragged one hand along his jaw. The other rested on the hilt of the sword attached to his belt.
“It’s probably for the best,” Liam said. “The fewer we move, the fewer chances of being
