Sheffield crept up beside Genevieve and supported Mariellen, who stared, uncomprehendingly, at the inferno that had been their community. “Hold on to me,” he instructed. His warm brown eyes were fiercely determined. She clasped his forearm. “I’ll lead us out.”
Over her left shoulder, deeper inside their village, silhouettes appeared out of the smoke. Genevieve’s breath caught in her throat as she watched members of her community fight the flames to find their way out of the fires. Beason conjured a wall of water that she sent crashing over homes. On the other side, vines sprouted from Ronaldo’s fingertips to smother the flames. “Ewan’il, Quercus, aiya’ne. Aiya’ne!” Constance shouted prayers to the heart spirit of the woods and great father oak. She tossed herbs into the air and waved her
