The trees obstructed his view, so Wren dove and flew above the rushing water. Despite the clear path provided by the river, flying in the woods was dangerous. In flight, he’d cover twice as much ground as the demons, despite their lithe footing in the woods, but he needed to watch his surroundings, lest he fly into a fallen tree or reaching branch. White ice rimmed the rocks and driftwood that broke the surface of the shallow water. Wren approached the first fork in the river and followed the path that would pass closest to the location where he’d found Ginger and Thornton. Thornton must have been taking her somewhere specific. Maybe that’s where he’d find Lark, too. Or find Thornton, Wren acknowledged to himself. For all he knew, Thornton could jump back and forth between bodies with little trouble, and this was a trap. His wings ate up several miles and Wren pushed faster. Thornton would have left Lark in the water before Ginger’s kidnapping, over forty-five minutes ago. Demons possessed extreme resiliency against the elements, but even they would succumb to hypothermia, in time.
