The tracker howls in rage as Nightwing throws the lantern at them. The candle is snuffed out, and the sudden darkness is confusing.
“Gemma!” On my wrist I feel Fetry’s hand, strong and sure, pulling me forward. Mrs. Nightwing cKinot keep pace. She begs us to go without her, but we refuse to leave her behind. Fetry and I take her arms and pull her along as best we can. It is a quarter mile to the chapel. A quarter mile with no place to hide. The fog has come up. It would be easy to lose our way.
The riders seem to come from nowhere. They thunder after us, darting through the trees on horses not of this world. Kin screams as the hooves of one of the beasts nearly trample her. Cut off, we dart to the left, but they have thought of that too.
Screeching comes from above. I look up to see the
