HOPE COUNTS FOUR PAIRS of eyes—an easy enough number to bring down. Then a fifth pair appears. And a sixth. And soon it’s not just six wolves, but twenty. And then not just twenty, but fifty, then a hundred, all circling the Sisters and Less Thans, snarling and growling and nipping at the wind.
“Why don’t you untie us?” the Man in Orange suggests. “We’re pretty handy with weapons.”
“So we’ve seen,” Flush says drily.
“Then the smart thing would be to let us help you. There’s no way you can take those wolves down on your own.”
No one says anything, but Hope knows he’s right. On their own, the LTs and Sisters may be able to bring down several dozen wolves, but there are far too many to defeat them all. Eventually, the wolves will reach them.
Eventually, the wolves will win.
“Be smart,” the Man in Orange pleads. “Untie us now and we’ll never bother you again.”
Other Hunters say the same, begging to be let free. Hope hears them tugging against the ropes, the hemp scraping the bark of the trees.
She looks to Cat. He gives his head a shake, and it’s clear what he’s thinking. Arming the Hunters is just as suicidal as facing wolves.
“Come on!” the Man in Orange screams. “You need us!”
Maybe, Hope thinks. But if we’re going to die, better that it’s on our terms. Not at the hands of the Hunters.
The wolves continue to circle, launching their frenzied howls into the night. The sound raises goose bumps on Hope’s arms.
Without warning, three wolves make a dash for the circle. Arrows bring the first two down, but the third makes it through. He goes straight for a Less Than’s throat, and it’s a good twenty seconds before a Sister manages to kill it with her knife. The wolf collapses with a sigh.
The wolves continue to circle, and again a small group makes a break for it. Four wolves this time. Two make it to the circle and latch onto Sisters’ arms. The surrounding Less Thans and Sisters have to scramble to beat them away.
Hope shares a look with Cat. They’re being tested. The wolves are seeing how many they have to sacrifice to get through. Even as the pack continues to make revolutions in the snow, drools of saliva hanging from their teeth, they seem to be calculating their odds.
“Why don’t they just do it?” Sunshine asks. “What’re they waiting for?”
“The right moment,” Cat says, and leaves it at that.
The Sisters and Less Thans try to stay alert, but it’s difficult, mesmerized as they are by the circling pairs of eyes. Yellow dots in a black surround.
“Come on!” Sunshine shouts. “Just do it! Come and get us!”
The wolves’ howls sound like laughter. Finally, Sunshine can’t take it any longer. He throws himself to his feet and darts away from the circle before anyone can stop him.
“Sunny, don’t!” someone yells.
But he’s rushing straight for the pack of wolves, brandishing his knife, waving it rapidly back and forth.
Six wolves are on him before he can bring the blade forward. The beasts tear him limb from limb, ripping off arms and legs and hands and fingers, burying their snouts into the flesh of his skin and yanking out organs and entrails.
Hope can’t turn away fast enough. It’s an awful sight . . . and sound. A couple of the Sisters retch.
Sunshine might have been brash, he might have been a bit of a braggart, but he was a Less Than just the same. He was one of them. It’s no longer just fear that hangs over the Sisters and Less Thans; it’s an overwhelming sadness.
“No one else goes anywhere,” Cat says.
But before anyone can stop him, Book rises and heads for the very center of the circle: the prisoners.