“Rowan?” Alianor and Dain say at the same time, as Rhydd pulls his own blade.
“Fleeing,” I blurt. “What was the colocolo flee—?”
Before I can get my sword out, the undergrowth erupts. At first, I see nothing. I’m looking overtop of the bushes, watching for what is coming, my gaze swinging between the treetops and the mid-view, expecting a predator at least the size of a warakin.
Instead, I only hear the thunder of running paws and then shrieks of panic and alarm, shrieks that come from both monster and human, as the foliage explodes and a wave of colocolos washes over us.
I’m not sure what’s happening even as my feet fly out from under me. Jacko screams, and then I’m falling, feeling cold bodies running over me, tiny claws digging in.
I flail as my brain screams that this is ridiculous—they’re colocolos, barely bigger than mice. Yet I am trapped under this wave of creatures, drowning under it, fighting, clawing at the air, nothing but black above as a writhing blanket of darkness suffocates me.
Another scream, and that cry pierces the panic. That cry is both a goal and a fresh source of terror.
Jacko. He’s here somewhere, buried under this wave of colocolos. I fight the horde, my arms and legs churning, knocking tiny bodies aside as I focus on the muffled cries of my jackalope. It’s like battling the tide, relentless and unceasing, as tiny reptilian bodies pour over me, too panicked to care about my blows.
Whatever they’re fleeing is scarier than a jackalope. Scarier than a twelve-year-old human girl. Scarier even than a warg.
I push down the thought. What matters is that Jacko is suffocating.
One final cry. A horrible, gurgling cry, and I manage to rise, colocolos hanging off me. Then I throw myself in the direction of the sound. One hand touches fur. Soft rabbit fur. I grab as hard as I can, sending up a silent apology as my fingers dig in, knowing if I lose him, he’ll be carried away on this tide. I clasp Jacko tight with one hand and then the other, and I hoist him over the bodies.
Something hits me. Something moving against the tide. I’m propelled up as a beast the size of a small pony flips me onto its back. A flash of black fur. A growl.
“Malric,” I say, the name coming on an exhale of breath.
Before I can react, I’m swept from the stampede of colocolos, awkwardly half riding Malric, one leg over him, the other bent under me. Clutching Jacko to my chest, I manage to grab a handful of Malric’s fur and stay on as he fights through the tide. At first, I can’t see anything. The colocolos keep climbing me, as if I’m a tree stump in their path, their claws needling my skin.
Finally, my head is clear of the river. I see them then, and it is a sight my brain can’t quite comprehend. It truly looks like a river, a roiling torrent of brown, the colocolo shapes lost in the flow. There must be hundreds of them. No, thousands, forming a deep current.
“Rhydd!” I scream.
I twist, panic lighting anew, imagining him under that sea of bodies.
“Rowan! Here!”
I follow the voice and see him on the “shore.” He’s with Alianor, and he’s holding onto a thick tree branch as she grips his free hand and stretches toward me.
Malric leaps. One massive bound and he’s free of the tide, hitting the ground hard enough that I roll off, still clutching Jacko.
I scramble up, stray colocolos running over my feet, and look about wildly. “Where’s Dain?”
No answer.
I spin on Alianor and Rhydd. “Where is Dain?”
They’re both scanning the colocolo river now. We all are. Jacko climbs onto my head and sounds his alert cry. Malric lopes alongside the colocolo onslaught as he hunts for any sign of Dain.
I break into a run, following the flow, my gaze skimming over it as I shout, “Dain!” Jacko scrambles down onto my shoulders and clings there for dear life.
Thousands of colocolos. Thousands. Colonies of them streaming in a panicked rush, trampling everything in their path. I twist to look behind me and see Rhydd and Alianor, now jogging beside the stampede, shouting for Dain.
I keep running, searching in vain for anything among those feathered brown bodies. There’s nothing. Nothing at all and—
A figure half rises, on all fours, pushing up for no more than a heartbeat before being engulfed again.
“There!” I scream. “He’s there!”
I run as fast as I can. Malric overtakes me, but the river of bodies shifts, colocolos swarming over the warg’s paws. He tumbles to the side, and I race past even as he snarls and snaps at me.
Dain rises on all fours again, only to topple backward and be carried along by the flow. I keep running until I’m ahead of him. Malric lunges into my path, but I only snarl back at the warg. A two-heartbeat standoff between us. Then Alianor is there, Rhydd behind her, his bad leg dragging slightly.
“Form a chain!” I shout. “Like you were doing before!”
I point at a tree. Rhydd makes it there, one arm wrapping tightly around it as he reaches for Alianor. She clutches his hand. I tug Jacko from my shoulders, and he doesn’t like that, but he only chatters his disapproval as I shove him toward Malric. Then Alianor grabs my ankle, and I leap into the stampede.
CHAPTER THREE
I hit that roiling mass of tiny bodies, and there is a moment of absolute panic as something inside me screams.
What am I doing? Didn’t I just get free of this? What if Alianor can’t hold me? What if Rhydd loses his grip? I’ll be as lost as Dain, suffocated under a river of colocolos.
I grit my teeth as the tiny lizard monsters scrabble over me and the sunlit forest disappears into darkness. Alianor’s fingers dig into my ankle, and I am safe. She won’t let anything happen to me.
Dimly, I hear Alianor and
