““A voice stirs across my mind—one similar to the Cailleach’s, but not old and frightened and dying. This voice is powerful. It sounds like a promise of death. I see you. The air in the hallway thickens, rippling as if a small pebble had been tossed into a pool of water. We all come to a sudden halt. Next to me, Kiaran whispers a foul curse. “I take it you all felt that?” Aithinne asks. We nod. “Anyone else get the sense they’re about to be gutted and strung up by their intestines?” she says. When we nod again she adds, “I’ve never felt trousers-pissing terrified before.” Kiaran grasps his blade. “Aithinne,” he murmurs, his eyes on the dead vines. “That’s more information than I cared to know.” “You’re so delicate,” Aithinne says lightly, but she steps closer to me with her sword out, too.””
