Luke reached the edge of the woods and was surprised to find himself on the outskirts of Chiutza. He hung back in the shadowy trees, listening to slamming doors and then silence. Everyone must have gone inside. All the houses were shut up against the cold — he could see smoke rising from chimneys and occasional shapes passing before windows, but no sound escaped.

Maybe if he waited until dark he could creep right up against one of the houses, press his ear against a wall and hear something. But after darkness fell he probably wouldn't be able to find his way back to his cave. He'd have no shelter, no protection against the long icy night.

Luke was still trying to decide what to do, when he saw a figure creep out of a shed behind one of the bigger houses. The figure was wearing a cloak, and it seemed to turn its head to peer directly at Luke out of the depths of the cloak's hood. Luke jerked behind the nearest tree, his heart pounding and the panic coursing through his body yet again. But when he dared to peek out a moment later, the figure was gone.

I'm safe, after all. He didn't see me. Fake alarm, Luke thought in relief.

And then a hand clamped over his mouth, and an arm clutched across his chest. Luke struggled to free himself, to scream, "Stop!" But a voice hissed in his ear, "Don't! Don't make a sound. Do you want to get us both killed?"

Chapter Seven

The hood of the cloak fell back and for the first time Luke could see the face of the person who'd attacked him.

It was the boy who'd ridden out to Chiutza in the jeep with him, the one who'd stolen Luke's cornbread and told him he stank.