Oliver stood in the middle of the clearing, as motionless as the trees that surrounded him. Flitterflies buzzed around his head, throwing him into pools of light and darkness in turn. Above, the wind poured in through the breaks in the trees, rattling the branches and making the leaves shiver in the moonlight.
At length, he glanced behind him. The foremost of the close-ranked trees were clearly visible in the insects’ light, but beyond them, all was black. He looked back around, trying to peer into the trees where seconds ago Vamira and Odeile had gone. There, too, he could see nothing.
Darkness before him and darkness behind. Meanwhile, the night grew colder.
Oliver huddled down, his shoulders trembling. He was stuck, paralyzed with indecision. Vamira had all but given him her blessing to go back and throw himself upon the mercy of the Crownseekers. She fully expected him to tell whatever lie he needed to in order to save his own skin.