Chapter 2

Layon stepped back and picked up his spear. His eyes scanned the dark trees, flitting from one patch of shadow to the next. They had no reason to fear wild wolves. The beasts would only attack if they were desperate. Netya could not recall the last time anyone had been hurt by one.

But the skulls on the wall had not come from those wolves. Months, even years could pass between the rare occasions the Moon People ventured into their land, and yet every time they did, blood was spilled. It was the first time the howl of a wolf had frightened Netya. Neither of them needed to say a word to know what they were both thinking.

“It’s probably not,” Layon whispered, but he gripped the spear with both hands and raised the point in front of him. The flint tip was old and dulled with use. Not as sharp as the fangs on the skull.

Netya moved in close beside him, stifling a cry of alarm as she bumped into one of the grisly ornaments on the wall behind her. Its jawbone clacked, the