Chapter 63: The Crownseeker Camp

Oliver crossed the night-drenched glen like a shadow, making no noise. He kept his ears pricked as he did; he could see nothing in the dark, but in the heavy silence, the noise of a pin dropping would be as loud as an avalanche. But there was no one else there besides him.

Oliver slipped into the line of trees at the end of the glen, leaving the Eight Trees behind. The darkness pressed heavier around him, without even a shred of moonlight to illuminate it. He went on for as long as he dared, stumbling over roots, hands stretched out like a blind man to keep from running into trees.

At last, when he was sure he must be deep enough inside the forest that the trees would block him from being seen from the glen, he stopped. Finding the nearest tree, he felt along it until he found a good size branch, then, wrapping his arms around it, he leaned back. There was a crisp snap and Oliver stumbled backward, makeshift torch now in hand.