The things in the shadows aren't attacking.
Jacob said they rode hard to reach us. He didn't say why they bothered with the animals when they could have just walked. Now I know.
They're sizing us up. Deciding if we're worth the effort. That calculation won't take long.
Behind me, I feel Rhayne shift—the specific, small contraction of someone trying to take up less space.
I glance back for exactly one second. Long enough. Not longer.
She straightens slightly.
Jacob's companion speaks first, addressing all of us but not singling out anyone in particular.
"So. Divers or Drowneds?"
He looks us over with the casual assessment of someone who's made this evaluation enough times to not need long.
"By the smell—Divers."
"Lex." Jacob's voice carries the particular flatness of a correction he's made before. "Don't."
"It's a practical question—"
