Dawn had broken the horizon, and the sun now hung heavy in the eastern sky. He would’ve been more concerned with the late hour if it wasn’t for Mark-the-Dead, standing at the edge of a branch Adrianna was pushing on. “Hurry up, Colten,” she groused. Colten rubbed his eyes sleepily, yawned, and pulled his machete. One languid thrust and Mark fell to his knees, limp but propped on the branch. The ropes still hung from his wrists, and Colten lifted one up to examine it. “Son of a bitch, someone cut these.” Kaegan looked around, the feeling of unease pushing him to action. “Soren?” The morning light sifted through the trees, leaving the ground speckled around him. Leaves lazily rustled in the wind and branches swayed. Nothing more. Adrianna dropped the branch and yelled, “Soren! Where are you?” “Why would Soren cut Mark free?” Colten asked, still staring at the sliced rope. “She didn’t,” he said bolting for the woods. “Someone else did, and I bet this has something to do with that kid we saw in the woods yesterday.”
