THORNE POINT OF VIEW

The man lifted his sword, the blade steady in his grip, and smiled behind his mask.

“It’s time,” he said, voice thick with pleasure. “Your blood will water this forest.”

Fear brushed me again, cold and sharp, but I swallowed it down. I would not give him that satisfaction. I gathered spit in my mouth and hurled it at him.

“Do it,” I snarled. “Or are you only brave when you’re hiding in the trees?”

The spit slid down his mask.

For a moment, he stared at ...