Chapter 23. Lights on the Spoil Heaps

June's POV

I put the whistle to my lips and blew. Two short.

The sound bounced off the cliff like a bird's cry.

On the heap, Jory laughed. "Calling your dog? Go on. Call him. Bram said bring you back breathing. He didn't say anything about the mountain Alpha."

Crossbows came up along the ridge of the heap. Six of them. Black against the moon.

Not pointed at me.

Pointed at the cut.

My stomach dropped. They'd been up there the whole time, watching the cut from above. The cold air carried everything down past us, past Corvin, out through the cut. Our scent had been drifting straight up the slope to them all night, the same way Corvin's had been drifting to no one.

We'd thought about the wind.

We hadn't thought about the high ground.

"Ronan!" I screamed. "The heap! They're on the heap!"

Bolts hissed into the dark of the cut. Somebody yelled. Wood