28
A Beacon
The horses moved restlessly, Missy’s eyes rolling white as Thomas put a hand on her quivering neck. “Easy, girl,” he murmured, straining to hear over the sound of the gusting wind and rain. But there was nothing out of the ordinary.
“The Hound?” he asked finally, turning to his father.
Matthew glanced at him, his face grim, but he didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Thomas knew as well as he what they had heard. They stood in silence a moment more, but there was no repeat of the ghostly howl.
“It’s out there somewhere,” Matthew said, turning to him. “It will wreak havoc here unless we stop it.”
Great. “How are we supposed to do that?”
“We find it, and we kill it.” Deadly purpose coloured Matthew’s words.
“We find it? Out here?” Thomas waved at the empty night around them,
