Borten stirred at her side, rose to his feet, and unsheathed Kel’Barú. The long blade caught a sliver of moonlight. Several paces behind them, Mage Corey and Mariel were deep inside their own dreams. Crickets chirped their quiet rhythms, but the trees had ceased all movement. Not even the leaves rustled in the dark. “What is it?” Borten’s whisper was barely audible. “I’m not certain.” A feeling, like a breath of wintry air, had raised the fine hairs on Eolyn’s arms. She remembered a time, not so long ago, when the night forest was a place of warm mystery to be explored with happy abandon. Now she had grown wary of this midnight realm whose power to conceal could favor them as easily as it might betray them. Mist floated, delicate and gray, just past the broad trunks ahead. A hollow wind moaned through the trees, followed by the rustle of stiff bushes. The shrill call of a spotted owl pierced the heavy silence.
