The wind in the Black Pine Hills sharpened.

The sun blazed above but it still seemed quite dark beneath.

Crows stopped cawing.

The cave mouth glowed faintly, like breath holding its breath.

Then—

Voices.

Not cadet voices. Older. Coarser.

Hunters.

Boots crunched over dead leaves. Soot reeked.

"You think we won't find her just 'cause she vanished?"

Another hissed in anger.

“She reeks of rebel magic. Cave-dwelling scum. The kind that births witches and traitors.”

Mia ...