Page 142 of Shadowfox

“Oh!” I said, drawing their gazes again. “I’m supposed to usethatfinger. Why didn’t you say that before?”

54

Will

Thomas’sdrugskickedintoa higher gear, sending him from babbling idiot to sleeping beauty. I watched the rise and fall of his chest, pressed a palm to his forehead to feel for a fever, and brushed back locks of his hair that refused to stay off his forehead. Seeing him lying there, so peaceful, so lost in dreams and whatever codeine-induced visions he was experiencing, made my heart stutter—just a little.

“Ready?” Egret said from behind.

I cupped Thomas’s cheek one last time, then rose and turned to face him. “Let’s find shelter. A night in this cold and we might need a lot more than codeine for him.”

Egret glanced down at his sleeping form, then nodded once.

“Nothing stupid, boys,” Sparrow henpecked from a few yards away.

“Stupid? Us?” I protested, holding up both palms.

Her cocked head and folded arms were all the reply necessary.

Egret actually chuckled and said, “Yes, dear. Nothing stupid.”

Her lips curled, though she fought to stop them.

Within minutes, we strode through a sprawling field with nothing but the moon and stars for company. Had we not known this was Soviet-controlled territory, the walk would’ve been peaceful. The stiff breeze kept my cheeks rosy and numb, but there was something invigorating about the wintry air. I sucked in a deep breath and relished its embrace.

Each step crackled beneath our boots. We left the open expanse of the field and entered another forested area. The woods pressed close around us—bare branches like skeletal fingers clawing at the dark.

I kept my hand on the grip of the pistol hidden in my coat. I’d stolen it from one of the Soviet guards when we’d rescued Eszter . . . just in case.

Egret walked beside me. He was a silhouette of tension. Neither of us spoke for the first half hour. The silence was the kind of pact you made in the field.

Don’t fill the quiet unless you have to. Don’t say what can be seen with your eyes.

There was a low mechanical groan—the kind of sound that didn’t belong in the countryside at this hour. It wasn’t a tractor. It was too steady for that, too late at night. It had to be a vehicle somewhere to the east. I dropped into a crouch beside a split log and motioned to Egret. He was already still, his eyes sweeping the horizon.

Then came the dogs.

They weren’t close—not yet—but they were close enough that their barks cut through the quiet in sharp bursts, the unmistakable tone of trained hounds, not some village strays looking for a scrap.

Egret shifted beside me and whispered, “Patrol.”

I didn’t answer, just kept watching the ridgeline across the field.

And there they were.

Two beams of light—thin, pale yellow cones sweeping lazily across the trees on the far side. Flashlights? Maybe spot lamps from a low truck? The lights danced, paused, then moved again.

“They’re searching,” I murmured.

Egret grunted.

We moved faster after that—still quiet, and careful, but with that pulse of urgency pushing into our spines like a blade.

We crested a ridge and scanned a shallow valley. Below, a sagging barn was tucked into the crook of a copse. The roof looked intact. There were no lights. We saw no smoke drifting from the chimney. In the paddock, there were no signs of livestock. The barn’s stillness could’ve been a result of the early hour, with weary workers sleeping in the darkness. Or, the place was as abandoned as it looked—and that would be perfect.

Please let it be empty, I thought.

Egret lifted his chin. “Check it out?”

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