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a bit from year to year, but I didn’t think this was the one I’d taken on the way to the Hob.
    Kith, though, didn’t hesitate. He’d obviously been riding up here lately, because he hadn’t known the paths this well when Lord Moresh recruited him.
    I frowned past Wandel at Kith’s back. He was tense, like a hound on the trail. He was always looking to one side of the trail or the other, and I could swear he was testing the air for scent now and then. Torch seemed to be infected with the same restless urgency as his rider. He paced forward with his head up, nostrils flared, prancing ever so slightly.
    Well, the forest felt different to me, too. As if there were something watching us. But the thornbushes made spying difficult. If anyone was crashing through the thick brush, we’d have heard them. Maybe it was an aftereffect of the magic’s release that made me so unnerved. More likely it was watching Kith act like someone was watching us.
    â€œAnything wrong, Kith?” I asked. “You’re acting like a mouse in a fox’s den.”
    â€œNothing,” he said. “But I feel…” He looked back at me. “If I say this, people are going to think I’m as weird as you.”
    I batted my eyelashes at him. “I’m not weird, I’m evil—the One God declares it so. Just ask Poul’s mother.”
    He rolled his eyes, then turned his head so he could watch where he was going. “I feel like the forest is alive.”
    I thought about it a moment, and decided I felt the same way. Not that I’d say so. People might think I was weird.
    â€œMe, too,” admitted Wandel. “But forests always bother me. I can’t see if there’s anyone else around. Too easy for someone to set up ambushes.”
    â€œThere’s no one here,” replied Kith shortly. “I’d smell them if there were.”
    Smell them? The trail narrowed, and I turned my attention to riding.
    For the first time, I regretted not accepting Kith’s offer of a riding horse. Trails that work for roe deer aren’t built for a seventeen-hand draft horse—let alone for one with a rider on top. Finally, frustrated, I kicked my feet free from the stirrups and lay flat on his back, trusting him to follow the others without much fuss.
    When Wandel pulled up suddenly, Duck got too close to the the Lass. She let fly with her heels, but Duck had gotten used to her tactics and pushed forward so she couldn’t get room to put much force behind her kick. Infuriated, she spun on her hind legs, disregarding her rider and the dense flora, teeth flashing as she tried to bite poor Duck.
    I grabbed the rolls on the front of the saddle and held on despite the branches that gripped and tore at me while Duck backed rapidly away from the charging she-demon.
    Wandel leaned forward and sang softly to the mare. I didn’t catch the words, but I happened to be sliding off in the right direction to get the full effect of the switch from enraged nightmare to child’s docile mount. The surprise sent me slithering all the way to the ground.
    The Lass stood still, eyes half-closed in ecstasy as Wandel sang a lullaby to her; only the speed of her breathing remained of the wild-eyed beast of a moment ago. The rare sound of Kith’s laughter brought an answering grin to my face.
    Wandel finished the chorus and patted his mare’s white neck.
    â€œI know,” he said. “Oddest thing I’ve ever seen, too. Most of the Lass’s antics are just flash and spit—I think she enjoys the attention.”
    The mare swiveled an ear toward the harper and cocked her hip, resting on three legs as if she were dozing—but the eye I could see was wickedly bright.
    I found a place in the trail relatively clear of brush and remounted. “Why did you stop in the first place?”
    â€œThat,” said the harper, pointing through the trees.
    â€œThe hob