15

Dawn

Bog’s mother stood at the edge of the clearing in the first brutal rays of sunlight. Her hands were planted on her hips. Her scraggly hair glowed like white fire. Insects buzzed through the beams of sunlight and danced across the clearing to the shadows where Bog clustered with Small and Hannie.

Bog sniffed the breeze for other humans or trolls, his muscles taut. Just Hornel—the useless one—huddled in front of Bog’s mother in the shade of a fir tree.

Bog’s fur stood on end. Did his mother know who he was? Would she tell Small? He flicked his tail, his nostrils flaring. He didn’t want to fight his mother, but he couldn’t let her hurt anyone else.

“Get the girl,” his mother ordered Hornel, speaking in troll language.

Hannie yelped and hid behind Small, who let out a warning snarl.

“No!” Bog yelled, his chest suddenly too tight.

“She promised to let us go, if we give up the girl,” Hornel whined.

Small growled. “And you believed her?”

Bog’s head spun. A few moons ago, he’d have thought it a proper trade, but now…how could he trust his mother to care for Hannie? How could he trust her to let them escape? “The girl stays with us.” He glanced at Small, who nodded.

Hornel eyed the sun and Bog’s mother, his feathery tail shaking. “We have no choice!”

Bog scowled. “This isn’t the way, Hornel.”

“Well, I say it is!” Hornel dashed forward.

Bog lunged for him, but Hornel was agile for a weak-nosed troll. He darted between Small’s arms, dodging his deadly fingernails.

Hannie shrieked.

Hornel gripped her by the middle and tugged her toward the clearing.

“Don’t let him take me!” She thrashed.

Bog and Small sprang after them as Hornel pushed Hannie toward Bog’s mother.

“I can’t!” Hannie cowered as if the sun’s rays could hurt her.

Bog’s mother reached into the shadows and yanked both Hornel and Hannie into the sunshine.

“No!” Hornel raised his hand.

Hannie screamed, skidding along the rocky ground.

Breathing hard, Bog and Small halted at the edge of the clearing, their toes on the jagged line between shade and sun.

A crackling sound came from Hornel.

Bog gasped.

Small growled.

Then Hornel was stone, his eyes scrunched shut, his body crouched—every horrible detail perfectly preserved.

Just like Jeddal.

“That’s better.” Bog’s mother grimaced, as if the sight of the statue sickened her.

“How could you?” Bog roared. Small howled in outrage. Hornel was reckless and naïve, but he hadn’t earned this fate.

Bog’s mother gripped Hannie by the arm and pulled her upright. Hannie hollered and kicked, but his mother wrapped one arm around Hannie’s chest.

“Don’t worry,” she said to Hannie in human talk. “I’ll get you back to Strongarm.”

Hannie’s eyes became hollow, black pits. “Please,” she whispered. “Don’t take me back there.”

“Let her go.” Bog couldn’t bear the look in Hannie’s eyes. He rocked back and forth, wishing he could dive into the sun to rescue her. No one deserved a father like Hannie’s.

Bog’s mother ignored him, struggling to keep hold of Hannie with one hand. She snapped off several of Hornel’s fingers, tossing them to land in the leaf litter at Bog’s feet.

“A remembrance of your friend. You’re next.” She retreated farther into the clearing, taking Hannie with her.

“Never.” Bog growled.

A smug half-smile played across his mother’s face. “I only need to hold you here a few minutes longer. The sun will do my work for me. Unless you want to run off and leave Miss Hannie Vincent? Why do you want her so badly?”

“I’m a troll. I belong with them. Let me go,” Hannie whimpered. She pulled free but his mother grabbed her by the upper arm.

“They brainwashed you?” Bog’s mother frowned. “Don’t worry. I know people who can help.” Then to Bog and Small, she said, “Now, hand over your sacks.”

“Why?” Bog gripped the strap of his rucksack. He didn’t dare look at Small, praying that Ymir would somehow protect their treasure.

His mother’s eyes were beady. “I know you came here searching for the Nose Stone. Did you find it?”

“We found a cave,” Bog held out his empty hands, “but no Nose Stone.”

He wouldn’t let Jeddal down. Maybe he could shape-shimmer the Nose Stone to keep it safe, but that wouldn’t help for long. He could think of only one way to stop her, and it sickened him.

“I never trust a troll.” His mother scowled. “Give me your sacks—slowly, one at a time. I’ll check for myself.”

With a warning glance at Small’s pinched face, Bog slid his rucksack off his shoulder and held it out toward her.

“Toss it at my feet.” His mother edged forward warily, avoiding Hornel and dragging Hannie along beside her.

Bog calculated the distance left between them and devised a plan. He’d dive into the sun, trapping her under his bulk as he turned to stone. Small could hide Hannie somewhere safe, and then return at night to revive him with the Nose Stone. If his statue didn’t crack. If the Nose Stone worked its magic.

Bog dropped his rucksack beside Hornel’s severed stone fingers. Then he dove into the sun at his mother.