Victor and I exchange a look, then both lunge for Maddox’s legs. Our weight is enough to keep him stable as Charlie climbs up his arms and over his head, flailing onto his back.
“Something swiped at me,” Charlie says again, insistent, her eyes wide as she glances across the plateau we just found. “I felt it, heading in that direction, but when I looked?—”
I turn around, expecting to find nothing.
Instead, I am met with a whirl of darkness sweeping toward me. I scream, and my instincts from my training with Maddox take over. I grab at the dagger in my scabbard. It flashes inthe moonlight as I whip it out and slash into the darkness descending upon us.
There’s another cry. Another scream. And a flash of dark feathers.
At first, when I see the wings, I think of Peter, and my body freezes.
But when I push the dagger in further, the creature squawks.
The clouds shift, and the moonlight reveals not a person, not a fae, but a bird, its throat caught on the tip of my dagger. It’s the size of a large dog, and the weight of it has me slumping backward and onto Maddox’s back.
The four of us scramble, everyone trying to get me out from underneath the large feathered creature. Finally, Victor hauls it off of me and flings it to the side, its black ichor stuck to my blade.
“What was that thing?” asks Maddox.
“I don’t know,” Victor says.
“It sounded like you,” I say to Victor.
Victor shakes his head, staring at me. “It sounded likeyou.”
I turn back to Charlie and Maddox, who are both gawking down at the creature.
“I didn’t hear anything,” Charlie says. “I just felt it swipe at my ankles.”
She pulls her pant leg up, revealing a fresh cut where the bird’s talons must have struck. I check the bird’s talons and find them soaked in blood.
“We’ll have to keep aware,” says Maddox.
“Why can Victor and I hear them, and you can’t?” I ask.
“Beats me,” says Maddox. “Just make sure you tell us next time you hear them.”
Another scream. This one sounds like John. It’s agonizing—to the point where I fall to my knees, and all I can picture is John swinging from the reaping tree.
Except, that’s not how John died. Now all I can picture is John, unable to breathe, Peter strangling him with his bare hands.
“No,” I say.
“It’s not real,” says Victor. “You have to get up.”
I open my eyes just in time to witness a bird dive across my vision, taking Maddox by the shoulders. It digs its talons into Maddox’s skin. My friend lets out an awful cry, and seconds later, he’s airborne as the bird sweeps him into the trees.
Charlie darts after them.
Victor and I are not far behind. We dash across the tree line, ducking underneath branches and weaving through the trees. We can still hear Maddox shouting from up above, and through the canopy, we watch as his shadow grapples with that of the bird, as he shoves and kicks and punches, trying to twist himself from its grasp.
“It must be taking him to its nest,” says Victor.
“Not helpful,” says Charlie.
As we race through the forest, the trees seem to come alive. But maybe it’s just the sound of the screams. Victor whirls around as a voice beckons through the trees. I can hear this one too.
“Victor,”it cries.“Victor, please! Please! Simon’s hurting me! I can’t—I can’t breathe!”
