The night was cool and silent, the dew of early autumn coating the grass in a filigree of glimmering drops and silver spiderwebs. A bright moon was peeking through a tattered veil of clouds, casting flickering shadows across the uneven ground. Shadows through which we crept, single-file, following Blaise’s lead.
In any other situation, I might have questioned the wisdom of letting Blaise lead in anything, but it was clear he was a skilled scout and tracker as well as a ranger; besides, this was territory he knew, had hunted in and patrolled long before he split from the Seraph.
I pulled a sour expression at that last thought. ‘Split from the Seraph’ was one way of putting it – ‘betrayed to their deaths in the name of profit’ was another. I didn’t have a lot of sympathy for Blaise’s predicament, or his desire to prove himself worthy again, not when all his troubles were ones he’d brought down on his own head. Still, Spark seemed determined to give him a chance, and I couldn’t really blame her for that.