Chapter 12Braith was swirling with smoke and sparks before he had gone three steps, and my first shouts for Tristan and Owain were swallowed by the earth-shaking sound of his peculiar screaming roar. Before I entirely turned my attention to running, I caught a glimpse of him, snow-bright against the sky, already raining fire onto the dark tide of ghouls.
Down the hillside, I could see activity between the stable paddock and the waterline. Owain, he and his horse gleaming with armor, galloped toward me, pulling Winifred by the bridle. Tristan was rushing Bessie the cow into the water, reaching up to grip Genevieve’s hand as she rode past, leading the horses on a line behind her. Gareth clung to a sharpened pitchfork, riding close to Gen. Tristan and I had argued on the subject of Gareth, w
