The forest marched ahead of me, with darkness growing deeper with each step. Things had been stirred up by the wolf; a feeling of foreboding hung in the air. Avalor went first, his sword still unsheathed, his movements measured and deliberate. Every snap of a twig and rustle of leaves sent a jolt through me, as if danger lurked just behind every tree.
George was being unusually quiet and was following closely. The smirk that always managed to germinate on his lips had been replaced by an air of thoughtfulness, as if he knew deep inside that things could get pretty serious sometimes. He played with his dagger, executing slow turns, a fluid motion in his hands, eyes swiveling from side to side, alert at all times.
We pushed on till the dense forest opened up into a small clearing bathed in twilight. A shallow creek cut across the center, the water glinting like silver under fading sun. Avalor gestured for us to stop.
