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Montrose’s sharp tone turned her attention. “Don’t what?”
“Allow it to beguile you.”
Her brow popped toward her forehead. “The forest?”
“Weeping Hollow calls to those who come close to it,” Montrose said. “It tempts. It lures. It —”
“Destroys,” Westvane rumbled, sending a shiver down her spine.
“Doesn’t feel dangerous to me. Feels…” Inhaling through her nose, she exhaled through her mouth. The scent of pine and earth assuring her of sanctuary and safety. “Like home.”
“It isn’t, princess. The safest route is around it.”
She opened her mouth to challenge Westvane’s claim.
“We go around. Anything else is folly,” he said, tone firm. Stroking Eastbrook’s feathered head, he held her gaze, waiting for her to argue. “Clear?”
Given his tone, it would have to be. Westvane knew this land, she didn’t. Butting up against him wouldn’t be wise. She must trust he knew what he was doing. Still…
“A topic to be revisited later?” she asked.
“No, I don’t want to go in there either,” Montrose said, looking to the sky. “Plum crazy, Triple.”
“I think it’s been established I’ve got some crazy in me.” How else could she explain the last couple of days — the one-hundred-and-eighty degree turn her life had taken. Anyone faced with magic and twin worlds, brutal Assenta warriors and talking gargoyles, needed to be a touch nuts to believe a quarter of it.
“Maybe just the right amount.”
Nice.Truly’s mouth curved. A compliment of sorts. From Westvane. Unexpected, but she’d take what she could get. “Listen, can we rest awhile? Maybe —”
“Quiet.” A furrow between his brows, Westvane looked over his shoulder. His eyes searched terrain already covered. His body tensed. He curled his hands into fists.
Boot soles churning through red dust, Truly pivoted, following his movement. “What is it?”
“They’re closing,” he said, unfolding then refolding his wings. “We need to move.”
Dragging her attention from him, she focused on the spot his gaze rested. Something moved six or seven rocks behind them. As she watched, a huge paw, sharp claws extended, crested a stepping stone. The body of the animal followed, and she got her first look at a Hyrax.
Massive head with tufted, short ears. Thick reddish-brown fur covering a sleek, muscled physic. Dark patches on its forepaws, underbelly, spine, and tail that looked like scales: armor in the most vulnerable places. White stripe down the center of its snout. Hooked fangs the size of a saber-toothed tigers.
Scary looking.
Vicious looking.
Leader of the pack. A hungry predator on the hunt.
Westvane was right. They needed to go… and they needed to do it now.
24
MAKE THE JUMP
Leaning into the run, Truly sprinted toward the edge of the cliff. Her boots felt heavy. Each breath came fast, hot air rasping in the back of her throat. Balls of her feet churning, she pushed herself harder, gauging the distance to target. A little off-angle. She made the infinitesimal shift, correcting the trajectory, praying she was strong enough to land the jump.
Her feet left the ground.
She went weightless.
A second later, she landed with a bone-jarring thump.
