We hit the edge of Aldric's camp at a run.
It wasn't a camp anymore. It was a buffet.
The fancy carriage was on its side, one wheel spinning lazily in the air. The canvas tent was shredded ribbons flapping in the gale. Fire from a kicked-over brazier licked at a pile of furs, throwing jagged shadows across the snow.
And in the center of the light, ten students stood back-to-back, wands flashing wildly into the dark.
Surrounding them were the Leapers. Not twelve. Twenty.
They moved like liquid shadows, darting in to snap at a leg, then fading back before the lightning could hit them. They were toying with the prey. Waiting for the cold to slow the wands down.
"Deploy!" I shouted.
I slammed my heel into the snow. Cael and Marcus dug in. Marrow clawed for traction. The Centurion sled skidded to a halt ten yards from the students.
"Wake," I gasped. The leash burned.
