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The path dipped into a shallow valley.

Truly ran up the other side of the hill and around another bend. A scuttling sound erupted around her. Her gaze snapped left. She scanned the woods on both side of the path. Nothing yet, but she knew they were out there. Watching. Waiting. Beady gazes on the trail edge, hoping she’d step wrong and —

A wave of loud rattling rumbled over the rise. Bright light painted rough tree trunks. A second later, she saw them — hundreds of them — hard, blue scorpion-shaped shells glowing in the dark.Scions… some big, some small, bladed dual claws snapping, tails with black stingers curled over their backs. Legs clicking together, the swarm rushed both sides of the path.

Her gait faltered. She stumbled sideways. With a curse, she scuttled backwards before she stepped off the stones. Afraid to move any further, Truly stood close to the edge of the trail, boots planted on flagstone, waiting for the army of Scions to attack. A second wave scrambled over the rocky rise to join the first.

She blew out a shaky breath. Surrounded. She wassurroundedon both sides. Nowhere to run. No place to hide, even if she managed to get there.

So tense her muscles hurt, she watched the swarm organize, arranging into lines that reminded her of military formation. In order of rank and size — biggest Scions in the middle at the front, smaller ones fanning out from their sides, until the contingent formed a half moon.

Strange, but no doubt effective.

And yet, once in formation, none of the Scions moved toward her.

She stared at them.

Beady eyes stared back at her.

With a quick hop, she jumped to the center of the path. The movement caused a flurry of excitement. Claws snapped together like bladed teeth, the rhythm like a drumbeat. Stingers began to swing like pendulums as Scions surged forward, legs scuttled over rock, violent sound echoing through the forest.

She froze, waiting to be swarmed and eaten.

Five feet from the edge of the flagstones, the Scions stopped and, with a quick rearrangement, fell back into formation.

Testing the waters, she took a step forward.

Scions bristled. Powered by the group’s agitation, blue shells glowed brighter. Truly shuffled forward, fingernails biting into her palms, then took a few tentative strides. The swarm scuttled sideways, moving as one, keeping pace in proper formation.

Creepy. Also, impressive.

Staying in perfect alignment couldn’t be easy while on the move. But like a single-cell organism, the Scions worked like a hive, communicating without difficulty, maneuvering over rough terrain as a unit, following her progress while maintaining a strict boundary.

Thank God for Azalea. She’d given her solid advice.

One eye on the Scions, the other on the trail, Truly upped the pace. The flock of calamity continued to follow. Ignoring her hard-shelled companions (difficult given the noise), she stayed on the path. Her feet beat across stone. Shadows deepened. Scions scuttled around huge trunks, over mossy logs, and under thick brush. The scent of rich earth and running water reached her.

Flagstone forked into two separate trails.

As instructed, she veered left, ran down another hill and —

Heard Montrose before she saw him.

Listening to him curse, she followed the sound of his voice. After a minute or two, the trail widened into a clearing. Flagstone stopped at the edge of a circle with a floor made out of bricks. Some large, some small, all hand-painted by someone, laid out in a pattern both beautiful and ancient.

Scions scrambled up to the mosaic edge. Thousands deep, the horde surrounded the clearing with living light, jockeying for position.

“About fucking time!”

The yelled complaint made her look up.

“Wow,” she said, spotting her ex-boss.

“Yeah,” Montrose snarled back from his prison cell.

Suspended in the air, the odd enclosure was made of… well, she didn’t know. The structure looked alive. Thick vines comprised of bark — or maybe, snakes — slithered around Montrose, trapping him inside…

She frowned up at him. “What is that?”