They appeared at the same time, one between the oak and the ash, the other between the ash and the hawthorn, both kneeling on the ground. Sarah and I shot to our feet. I pulled the roots of my ash tree up with me so they wormed just under the surface of the earth.
A cold sweat dripped down my back. My muscles seized up and locked my feet to the ground. This was it. Ready or not.
Their hands hovered over the ground in front of them, fingers curled like hooks. Smoke wafted from Ica's body, so thick it almost shrouded her in a black veil. Some of it drifted out and away, giving the night darker stripes, and glided to where One's head used to be. Their whispers mingled with Sarah's, swirling around in dizzying circles. The multiplied smell bound my tongue with the taste of rot.