4
My family and I tramp through a rotting cornfield at night. Browned and dried-out stalks tower above us. We look battle ready in our body armor. So far, we’ve only confronted a few field mice.
I fidget in my leather fighting suit and duster coat. I had to borrow them from my honorary cousin, Hildy. It’s not my usual look.
Mom sighs. “I hate to say this, but when do we call ‘time of death’ on this patrol?”
“Let’s give it a few more minutes,” says Dad.
Maxon turns into vapor form. “I can float up and take one last look around.”
The small hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “Someone’s casting a spell. Let me see if I can figure out what it is.” Closing my eyes, I whisper a thrax incantation to detect nearby magic. My lips won’t move. The liquid power that ties up my tongue beco
