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“You’ll have to unseat him first if you have any hope of that.” She dusted off her hands. “Are you scared?”
“Terrified.”
“Good. You should be.” She motioned to the horse. “Up you get.”
We rode the mare to the appointed meeting place in the forest—the crossroads.
Not all of us would stay to greet the horde. That honor was limited to Matilda, Claude, and me. We decided that ambushing riders as they passed and attacking them on the ground was our best approach.
Josie passed out earpieces to each group leader, including me. “The comms will help us stay in contact since we’ll be so spread out.”
“And if anybody happens to stumble upon the white stag, don’t yell ‘stag,’” I advised. “No need to give the hunt any help. Use a code word.”
“Boot-scootin’ angel?” Gun proposed.
“Too long,” I said.
“Too stupid,” Josie mumbled.
“How about just ‘angel?’” Kane suggested.
Camryn grimaced at the sight of the druid’s head on a spike. “Whose handiwork is that?”
Anna raised her hand. “What’s wrong? Do you think I should’ve chosen a taller spike? If they’re coming through on horseback, they might miss it.”
Camryn shot me a helpless look.
Bert scented the air. “Why do I smell ham and cheese?”
Stupid werewolf senses. I unzipped the snack pack. “I come bearing treats. Would you like a finger sandwich?”
“I’m a werewolf. I’d like the whole hand.”
I tossed him a zip lock bag stuffed with finger sandwiches.
Strips of orange and gold blazed across the sky as the sun began its descent.
“The hounds will be first,” Matilda advised. “If I can make them obey me, I will.”
Although she failed to tack on the words “no promises,” I heard them clearly.
My eyes locked on Kane’s. “Stay safe,” I told him.
“I will if you will.”
My body tensed as most of the team departed the clearing and took their appointed places in the forest.
The air shifted; it felt wrong somehow, although I couldn’t describe how. The back of my neck prickled, but not the way it sometimes did when my ward activated.
I rubbed the spot, hoping to rid myself of the uncomfortable feeling.
“You sense it, too,” Matilda noted with a sidelong glance at me.
“What is it?”
“What do you think?”
Twenty feet ahead, a wall of mist formed. It rolled toward us, coating our shoes in a thick white cloud. I felt like I stood on the precipice of a Belgian field, searching in vain for landmines that were impossible to see. Treetops rustled.
