Chapter 17 · The Third Stone

I cut my palm on the third boundary stone and let it run into the groove.

The ward came up blue. Not white — white's a full ring. Blue means thin, and thin means two more bleedings before the nine rocks around this shack go back to being nine rocks and a woman with one knife.

Nine days to the new moon. Then the hole where the bond used to be finishes what it started and stops my heart.

The print in the snow was an hour old, soft at the edges, wider than my forearm heel to claw. He'd circled the woodpile twice and marked the corner post. Hadn't come for me. Had gone around, staking ground like it still answered to him.

Snap. Branch, on the ridge behind me.

I didn't run. Running's for prey. I put my back against a spruce, got my lungs working, got my hand around the knife.

Snow crunched, heavy and deliberate. He wasn't hiding. Valerius never did sloppy — he wanted me to hear the boots.

Fine. Better standing than crouched.

I stepped out of the trees.