Wilmot lifts one shoulder. “I believe so.”
Yvain smiles as she pats my arm. “Well done, child. That is a fine plan.”
“All right, then,” Wilmot says. “Dain, you’ll help Rowan.”
“What happened to me getting a choice?” Dain squawks.
“That was your royal monster hunter talking. This is your guardian. Now come along, and I’ll show you the boundary line.”
CHAPTER TWO
We’re patrolling at a two-hundred-foot perimeter. That’s what Wilmot insisted on, to be absolutely certain we don’t come within a hundred feet. I can grumble, but I understand his point. It’s not as if we can accurately measure distance out here, and if we wander too close to the cabin and get hurt, Mom will blame him. Put us at two hundred feet, and we’re definitely far enough away.
I still feel like a child again, standing on that inn front step with my practice sword. Maybe I made the wrong choice here. I thought I was being mature, giving up the adventure to protect my brother and allow Kaylein to fight. I also thought we could provide a valuable service. But this far from the cabin, in the thick woods, we might as well be a mile away. We can’t even overhear the others.
“I can go see what’s happening,” Dain says. “Report back.”
I hesitate and then shake my head. “We should stick together. I’m sorry.”
“Leaders don’t apologize,” Alianor says.
I disagree, but in this case, she has a point. I should reserve my apologies for real mistakes, not toss them out like flower petals at a spring festival.
“The fact that we’re not hearing anything suggests nothing is happening,” I say. “Either the hunters are still planning or the dropbears are gone. Let’s keep patrolling.”
At my wave, Jacko leaps into the lead, his head high, nose higher, like a leporine army general. The warg, Malric, stays at the back of our group. I could say he’s guarding the rear, but the way he’s dragging himself along—while casting glances toward the cabin—tells me he’s feeling like a babysitter put in charge of the children while everyone else goes to the party.
“You can join them if you want,” I say.
I get a baleful, yellow-eyed stare for that. When Jannah died, she asked Malric to look after me. Kaylein might be assigned as my guard on expeditions, but the warg is my bodyguard, at my side nearly every moment of the day, whether he likes it or not.
I fall back beside him and murmur, “I know how you feel. This is boring, isn’t it?”
He chuffs. Monsters are smarter than regular animals, but they can’t talk or understand human speech. What they understand is body language and facial expression and vocal tone.
When Jacko lets out his alert cry, I swear all five of us—Malric included—perk up. Everyone reaches for their weapons, and Malric presses against my leg as he looks about. Jacko zooms to sit on my feet, which I appreciate. In his jackalope mind, he’s protecting me, but I just want him close so I can protect him.
Around us, the forest is silent, and I’m about to declare it a false alarm when a growl ripples Malric’s flanks.
I follow his gaze to see the undergrowth quivering. Something’s coming, fast, but it’s small, hidden beneath the ferns that tremble, the only sign of its passage.
Snake? There are several dangerous snake-monsters.
A shape bursts from the undergrowth, racing straight for us only to notice us at the last moment and nearly bowl itself over tumbling to a halt. The creature rises onto its hind legs, swaying from side to side as it surveys our group. Its gaze lands on Jacko, and it lets out a shriek and topples over backward in its panic to escape.
As it runs, I sputter a laugh. “Well, Jacko. That’s a first. Apparently, you’re scarier than Malric. At least to a colocolo.”
We watch the tiny monster run off. From the back, it looks like a lizard with weirdly long legs. Instead of scales, though, it has mottled brown feathers that blend with the autumn undergrowth. When it glances back, we see its feathered rodent head and furry ears.
I bend down to Jacko. “You do know that’s supposed to be your dinner, right?”
He squeaks, gaze fixed on the undergrowth, his entire body tense, as if expecting the rat-sized monster to wheel in attack.
“That’s what happens when you coddle a jackalope,” Dain grumbles. “He’s scared of his food.”
I shoot Dain a look. That’s all it takes to make him shift and glance away. Dain is cranky about being kept out of the cabin attack, and so he’s taking it out on us, and my look warns him I won’t put up with that. I used to make allowances for his horrible childhood, but I’ve learned that isn’t really what he needs or even wants. He’s given me permission to tell him when he’s being a jerk, and I will, if only in a look.
He knows he’s wrong here, too. Jacko is only half-grown, but he’s already able to hunt for himself. I can only guess that the colocolo makes him nervous because he’s never seen one. While we do get them in the barns during winter, they’re rare, being mostly from the mountains, where they live in colonies.
I scratch behind Jacko’s antlers. “Thank you for the warning.”
Dain snorts, and I expect Malric to do the same, but when I look over, the warg is staring after the colocolo. I frown. Wargs generally just ignore colocolos—too small to be a threat and too small to eat unless they’re starving.
So why—
The answer hits a heartbeat before the ground vibrates under my feet. I leap up and
