Lucien lifted his head and sniffed. The scent was faint, carried on a breeze that came from the east. It was not the seven-headed monster. That smell was foul, but it was a living foulness. This was different. This was old rot. The kind of decay that took years to develop. Mixed with it was the sharp, acrid smell of ash. Not wood ash. Something else. Something that had burned hot and long.
He turned his head slowly, scanning the forest. The trees on his left looked normal. Green. Alive. But the trees on his right were different. Their bark was blackened. Their branches were bare. They rose from the ground like the ribs of dead animals.
"Wanderers," Lucien muttered.
He reached into his cloak and pulled out a small brass disc. It was a location finder, a simple, magical tool. He held it flat on his palm and whispered a word. The disc grew warm. A line of light appeared on its surface, thin and silver, pointing north-west.
Zuri leaned over to look. "Where are we?"
