“It’s here,” said Sugar. “The creature from Whitecliff.”

“What?” asked River.

“It killed a man right there,” said Sugar and pointed to the wall where she’d seen him fall.

River rose and cautiously looked out the door to the side of the house. She gasped.

“I told you something was there,” said Nettle.

Moments later River shut the door up and turned to face them. She made Sugar relate everything she’d seen. Sugar told her everything except Legs’s comments about seeing Mother. When she finished, River stood looking at the floor, gathering her thoughts.

After a moment, she looked up at them. “Listen to me. You have one chance, and that is out the back window. Run as quickly and quietly as you can. Under no circumstances will you come back here. None. I will meet you at the Creek Widow’s.”

The Creek Widow was like an aunt to them. Every year Da hauled them over to help her harvest her apples. Except this year, of course, because of their feud.

“Where are you going?” asked Talen.

“To play a game,” she said, “of hide-and-seek.”

Talen set himself to argue, but before he could say a word, River slipped out the door and into the yard.

Sugar felt like her one stay had just been taken out from underneath her. She wanted to cry out, but could find no words.

The four of them stood frozen. Then Talen broke the silence. “You heard her,” he hissed. “Out the back!”

Nettle went first, then Legs and Sugar. Talen tossed his bow and a quiver of arrows through to Nettle, then he tumbled out. When he rolled to his feet, he pointed toward the shallows dozens of yards up the river and said, “We’ll go to the bank of the river and then up to the crossing.” He turned to Nettle. “We’ll take the hill road, past your house, then on to the Widow’s.”

He and Nettle dashed for the river. Sugar held Legs’s hand and followed, crouching low, the tall autumn grass brushing the tops of her thighs. At the lip of the bank, she risked one look behind her and stopped.

Beyond the house and barn, past the pigpen, out in the mule’s field, she could see River’s slender shape in the moonlight and the beast’s larger form approaching her.

River changed her course and began to walk away from the creature. It followed her, and Sugar realized River was leading it along, dragging, as it were, a broken wing like a mother bobwhite luring a fox away from her nest.

She turned and ran with her brother to catch Talen. And in that moment Sugar realized she was running again. Running as she had when Mother and Da were cut down. Running from the very creature that knew where Mother was.

Things to act. Things to be acted upon. Now was not the time to flee. She knew what she had to do. It was mad. Wild. But no more so than anything else that had happened in the last few days.

“Talen,” she called.

Talen made an angry silencing gesture with his hand, but he did stop.

When Sugar caught him, she held Legs’s hand out. “Take him.”

“He’s your brother,” said Talen.

“You don’t have time for me to explain,” she said. “Keep him safe.”

She couldn’t argue or wait. She bent low to her brother’s ear. “I’m going to find Mother.”

Legs, ever brave, reached out for her arm and gave it a squeeze.

She squeezed back then turned and ran to the house and around the corner to the moonlit yard. She glanced back at the river. Talen and Nettle ran along the bank, each holding one of Legs’s hands. Talen could have balked. He could have left Legs on the bank of the river. He could have done a great many things besides help, and a wave of gratitude welled up in her.

She faced the yard and field beyond. This was the creature that had stolen Mother. It hadn’t killed her, but taken her away. And this might be, as crazy as it seemed, the only chance to follow it and find its lair. Or its master’s. Perhaps it had fed on Mother and all she would find was a half-rotted carcass. But perhaps it had not. Mother might yet be alive. And who knew: finding the location of the monster’s lair might tip this battle.

She had no idea what she would do if she found Mother. But whatever it was, it would be more than she could do hiding in holes.

And if the monster caught her, would that be any worse than being caught by the Fir-Noy or some bounty hunter? What could it do to her that the flaying knives couldn’t?

She stole past the house, across the yard, and into the shadow of the barn. When she looked out at the field, she thanked the Creators that River had not yet disappeared into the woods.

Sugar crouched as she ran to the fence bordering the field, then it was up and over and into the field as sly as a cat hunting prey. She moved as quickly and silently as she could, and when both River and the creature finally did disappear into the woods on the other side, Sugar stood and ran.

____________________

River came within a half-dozen paces of Hunger, but then she began to walk at an angle away from him. Hunger followed, but she kept just out of his reach, like a reluctant horse that didn’t want to be harnessed.

He held his hands wide, then knelt upon the field and prostrated himself in submission. How else would she know he meant her no harm?

When he looked up, she stood still, studying him. He made one of the signs of the Order with his right arm, and stood again.

She backed away.

He motioned for her to halt. Then he made another sign. This time she stood still when he took the next step, and the next. One more and he would be able to reach her.

Of course, she was frightened. Who wouldn’t be? But he’d catch her, and when she’d calmed, he’d make her understand.

He lunged for her.

But River danced out of his reach.

He made another sign of the Order and took a step. It’s me, River. Can’t you see past this form?

Another step. She danced farther away.

He would have to do this the hard way then. He picked up a stone, made sure she saw he had it, and hurled it at her head. Not too hard, but enough that she’d have to duck. Enough to distract her.

But instead of ducking, River rolled away and was instantly on her feet again.

Would that he had a voice. Hunger expelled the air in his gullet in frustration.

She took another step back.

Hunger lost patience and charged her. One, two, three steps, her hair flickering through his fingers, and then she was into the wood, running, lively and elusive as a deer.

He crashed along after her, over a fallen stump, around a thick bramble, down a ravine, expecting all the time to lose her, to see her marvelous burst of speed, but she did not widen her lead on him. Perhaps it was the dark or this new form he wore that gave him greater speed; whatever the cause, he could keep pace, and that gave him great satisfaction, for she would tire. He would not. It might take some time, but she would tire, and he would not.

She’s leading you along, you fool.

The Mother. But she had been sleeping.

Turn around, and she’ll come to us.

Hunger resisted her. I won’t kill her.

Turn around. Now! Run back in the direction you came.

Hunger could not resist. He turned and ran. Back she pushed him, around a bend, down the trail until the darkness of the ravine lay at his feet.

Here, said the Mother, this is where you’ll take her. Quick now. Hide in the shadows.

I won’t, he said. But he did. He descended into the darkness and stood waiting, the exposed roots of a tree at his shoulder. He prayed River did not return, prayed the Mother was wrong.

I don’t want her, said Hunger.

Oh, but you do.

He knew what she wanted River for. Your ugly children can rot.

You simple creature. Did you think I would waste her on something like you? No, she will become one of those that govern.