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expression. Her senses are far more acute than Jerath’s, even in her human form, and her reaction makes him suddenly nervous. He would normally go and investigate the unusual noise, but instead he grabs Serim’s hand and pulls her off the path and back into the forest. He puts his finger to his lips to shush her as she opens her mouth, and hurries to crouch down behind a small cluster of rocks.
    Serim points to her ear, for Jerath to listen, and he nods in understanding. They keep still and silent, not making even the slightest sound, and soon enough they can hear the crunch and shuffle of people walking through the forest. Lots of people.
    Serim raises an eyebrow, a look of “What’s going on?” written across her face. Jerath has no idea. Apart from him and Serim, he wasn’t expecting anyone to be out here. The footsteps are getting louder and Jerath hears a voice barking orders.
    “Hurry the fuck up!” someone shouts.
    There’s a loud crack followed by a grunt of pain, and something cold sits uncomfortably in the pit of Jerath’s stomach. He easily recognizes the sound of a whip. Slender fingers slide through his as Serim grips his hand tightly. Jerath feels her trembling, and when he looks over at her, he’s met with wide, terrified eyes.
    “Try that again and I will kill you.” It’s the same voice. It sounds cold and angry and it’s not one that Jerath has ever heard before. He squeezes Serim’s hand.
    “ Ghaneth …you need to do as he says.” It’s a pleading whisper, almost too quiet to hear but still horrifyingly familiar. “I think he means it.”
    Jerath’s heart stops. No… it can’t… no. That was Kyr’s voice and he was obviously talking about their Ghaneth. As much as Jerath dislikes Kyr, he would never ever want him to come to any harm. And Ghaneth… no .
    Serim’s hand vibrates in his grasp and she’s the palest he’s ever seen her. Her eyes are starting to turn blue, and Jerath realizes with a jolt that she’s about to shift. He squeezes her fingers tighter, frantically shaking his head. These people have managed to raid their village and take prisoners, which means there are obviously too many of them for one panther to take on. If Serim shifts now, they’ll kill her on sight.
    Jerath pulls her against him and crushes her into his side. He strokes her back, his hand rubbing up and down her spine as he tries to calm her. The men have almost passed them now, so Jerath risks a quick peek over the top of the rocks. There are more than he thought.
    He can see at least thirty young men being marched along as prisoners, and Jerath can tell that not all of them are from his village. They must have raided Westril and Lakesh too. There are about twenty men guarding them—that Jerath can see anyway. They’re wearing clothes Jerath doesn’t recognize and their accent is unfamiliar. He hates to think where they’re taking Ghaneth, Kyr, and the rest of them.
    Jerath and Serim sit huddled behind the rocks until the footfalls can barely be heard anymore.
    “We need to get back to the village. Now.” Serim jumps up and starts pacing. Jerath can tell she’s desperate to shift and run ahead. She’ll be much faster that way and he has no intention of holding her back. They need to know what’s happened and that everyone else is okay, because Jerath refuses to think of the alternatives.
    “Go,” he says.
    She stops midstep and spins round to look at him.
    “Go,” he urges. “I’ll be as quick as I can behind you.”
    Serim tears off her clothes. She doesn’t give Jerath a chance to look away first, but under the circumstances neither of them have the time to care. With a quick nuzzle against Jerath’s palm, Serim races off into the trees.
    Jerath shoves her clothes under his arm and hoists one of the fish sacks over his shoulder again. He looks with regret at the other one; he hates the idea of wasting all that food, but two bags will slow him down too much. He sighs and heads