Even though she hadn’t seen much, she’d felt them, as if they left a cold fog in their wake. She’d been chilled to the bone, even after running back to the village. Her instincts had screamed at her the whole way, demanding that she go faster.

Do not look back.

The words had sounded in her head as clearly as if someone had been running beside her. It could have been Brenya, who often summoned her with a voice like that, but it sounded different. Almost afraid. And Brenya was never afraid.

Torr stepped away, his footfall silent on the leaf litter. As thick as the brush was here, he could disappear within only a few steps.

The idea of being out here alone again with those things was too terrifying to even consider.

She shifted her weight to follow Torr, and before she could take so much as a step, his head turned and he gave her a hard amber stare.

Stay. He mouthed the single word, and she froze in place, a strand of fear strumming inside her—one that had nothing to do with the Hunters in the woods. This was deeper, a part of her former self that she didn’t understand.

Something had happened to her that had terrified her, and there were times when a single word or movement from someone else would set her off, making her want to cower under the covers like a child. Maybe that something was what had nearly killed her. No one seemed to know, or if they did, they weren’t telling her.

So she was left to deal with her inconvenient moments of fright, never able to predict when another might strike.

Torr slipped silently out of sight through the brush. Grace crouched to hide and make herself as small a target as possible. The action felt natural, as if she were used to cowering.

That idea grated on her pride. She was the weakest person here, not including the infants and toddlers, but that didn’t mean she was weak-willed. She would be as strong as she needed to be. As brave as she needed to be. Whoever she’d been in her old life, she was no longer that person. She had been remade.

She pulled the dagger from her belt. It was little more than a tool, meant for digging up roots and slicing off bark. But the blade was sharp, and her grip was firm.

Seconds passed in painful silence, each one measured in frantic beats of her heart. The rustling sounded again, only this time farther away.

She turned to face it and nearly stabbed Torr in his stomach.

He grabbed her hand, lifting the dagger out of the way before it could make contact. The move pulled her hard against his front, forcing her to catch herself. Her left hand splayed over hot male flesh. She felt muscles along his chest shift against her palm as his arm came around her to steady her.

She was plastered against him from knees to breasts, which made her heart pound even faster.

“It was just an animal,” he whispered.

Fear trickled out of her but was instantly replaced by something else—something hot and laced with excitement. It was as though her skin had suddenly come to life, allowing her to feel things she’d never noticed before.

The breeze swept past her, lifting fine hairs away from her nape. Each of his fingers at her back flexed slightly, as if he were trying to resist stroking her. The leather of her tunic was clinging softly to her thighs. Her legs were bare beneath the hem, and the worn softness of his pants made her want to rub against him. Or maybe it was the man beneath that created such an odd urge.

His head angled down and he stared at her mouth. She licked her lips, just in case there was some stray bit of food lingering there. She couldn’t stand the thought of embarrassing herself like that in front of this man.

The bright amber of his eyes darkened until only a slender rim of color remained. For some reason, seeing that change in his gaze excited her until her insides were squirming with the desire to get closer.

Not that there was much closer to get. Not with their clothes on.

Her fingers clenched involuntarily against his bare chest. She could have sworn she could feel his pulse speed up and a wave of heat spill out of his skin.

Slowly, his fingers relaxed on hers, allowing her to pull her weapon hand from his grip. “I’m sorry. I could have hurt you.”

He swallowed twice. “Not with that toy. If you want to fight, you need a real weapon.”

“I’m not allowed to fight. Brenya says I’m too fragile.”

“You are fragile, which is why you need to know how to protect yourself.”

“No one will teach me.”

“I will.”

His easy agreement made her suspicious. “Why?”

“Because I don’t know how long I’ll be around to keep you safe. I want to make sure you know how to do the job yourself.”

“That’s what I keep telling the women—I should be able to protect myself.”

“What do they say to that?”

“I should just stay in the village where I can’t get hurt.”

“I’d scoff at them for that, but I remember telling a young woman much like you much the same thing—to stay inside the walls of Dabyr where she’d be safe.”

“And was she?”

“No. She almost died inside those walls.” Torr released her and turned his back.

A thick wave of cold slunk along the ground, gripping her ankles. Before she could so much as gasp, that cold swelled up from the ground, enveloping her.

There was no question what it was. The Hunters were here.

Chapter 8

Grace grabbed Torr’s arm as she darted past him, forcing him to run. He could practically feel the panic spilling out of her as she crashed through the brush.

He spared a quick look over his shoulder and saw what had made her take off.

Hunters.

Two glittering black creatures charged after them, their target clear. Their skin looked like it had been forged from volcanic glass, chipped to a razor edge. They were tall and narrow, with sinuous, fish-shaped bodies that easily slashed through dense terrain. They traveled on four legs, the top of their backs at about eye level on Torr—just over six feet. From the tremors shaking the ground as they ran, they probably outweighed him by a lot.

Grace was ahead of him, but nowhere near as fast as the things behind him.

He drew his sword, gripped it in both hands and powered the blade through a tree as they passed, knocking it down behind him. The Hunters weren’t even slowed down. They tore right through it like it was no more than a twig, cutting it cleanly into logs.

If Grace didn’t run faster, these things were going to be slicing through her in a matter of seconds.