“Let’s go towards it!” Ivory whined in mockery of Kayn’s voice as he sent the last imp skittering away with a fire incantation. The ghost courter took a final glance at his surroundings before tending to deep claw marks on his left arm.
“Well …” Kayn sighed.
Ivory pulled back his sleeves with a loud groan. “This will need treatment. It’ll be infected before morning. Just look at this!”
“What are moss mongrels doing so far out at the edges of a forest?” she wondered aloud.
“It’s that bloody hat, Kayn! All kinds of creatures with Gehennic genes will be drawn to us now that we’ve been around that gate!” he shouted.
“Okay, all right,” she soothed. “You’re frustated—I understand. Let’s get back to the camp. Have some tea? Maybe Lester’s had some ideas.”
“Tea?! Maybe I’ve had some ideas,” he replied and shoved his wand away. “That carnival is only our livelihood so long as we’re promised to it. Well you know what? Maybe it’s time I find another use for my skills.”
“You don’t mean that,” Kayn replied. She hated how much it hurt her to hear that. Even somebody as awkward and shy as Ivory was more willing to upend his life for something potentially better.
He searched the ground before meeting her eyes. Though he wasn’t sure, he was shocked to find just how close he felt to making the decision.
It was with a dim awareness that Ivory noticed the trees around them seeming to extend their branches. They moved closer with a creaking subtlety. Their movements were shrouded by a fog thick enough to hide the hurt in Kayn’s eyes.
“We should leave,” Ivory said. “We’d be woeful to linger in a forest so wrought with misery.”
“How can you know?” Kayn asked.
“I can hear it. There are hundreds of them here. Crying.”
Ivory spotted a multitude of eyes watching them on their way out. Their pale irises followed, their starvation as deep as the hollowness behind their gaze. It was worse for Kayn—who could see none of them—as her imagination conjured up ghosts still not half as eerie as what Ivory could observe.
Only, he was used to it.
