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She frowns at me. “And half my age.”
“Don’t men peak earlier than women?” Ros arrives with the promised shears, which look capable of taking down small trees, and I straighten to face him. “Hey, have you peaked yet?”
Delilah chokes on a laugh, her face turning pink.
“Peeked?” He glances back toward the house. “Is there another stash of buckets I’m not supposed to know about somewhere inside?”
“Rowe, look!” Tris jogs up, a proud grin on his face.
He carries a sloshing bucket, and sand covers the rolled-up cuffs of his pants and his bare feet.
He comes over to us and sets the heavy bucket on the stone path. “Look what Ambyrlynn found!”
I peer into the bucket to see dozens of small white clams. “Uh, Tris, I don’t think Mel is going to let you use live clams to make a wand.”
“It’s not for wand making, it’s for our bellies!” He dances from foot to foot with excitement. “Ambros, you know what to do with these, right? I’ve never been to a clambake, and I really, really want to know what that is.”
Catching his excitement, I bounce on my toes. “I’ve never been to a clambake, either! How do we do that? Do we just shove them into the oven?”
“I don’t actually know, either.” Ros looks pained at the admission. “We didn’t live near the beach growing up. But I’m sure Owen or Haut will know what to do with these.”
Tris turns back toward the beach. “We’ll dig up more!”
“Shouldn’t you be doing your homework–”
A terrified scream splits the air, cutting off his words.
Blood running cold, I spin toward the woods where the sound came from. The place where three of the witches I’m supposed to protect ventured into without being warned about the monster that lives inside.
INTO THE WOODS, BRAVE TOASTER
I take off running, Ros’s and Tris’s voices chasing after me.
Outside the garden, I grab the wooden sign that says Garden from next to the short fence without pausing, my heart pounding in my throat.
I should have told them not to go into the woods. Nothing good has ever happened in there.
Off toward town, howls ring through the air, responding to the call of distress.
My gaze sweeps the tree line for any sign of Harper and the others. The woods are silent now, and I can’t tell which direction the scream came from.
Before I can dive into the shadows, strong arms come around me from behind, lifting me from my feet. “Whoa there, tiny Helsing! What do you think you’re going to do with that stake?”
I struggle against Tris’s hold. “Let me go! We have to save them!”
“Rowe, it’s okay. They’re coming out of the woods.” Ros catches up and points into the trees. “See? There they are.”
I follow the line of his arm and spot Harper and the others rushing out of the bushes near the driveway, their faces ashen.
Ros gently peels my hands off the wooden sign I clutch. “I’ll go see what happened, okay? But the witches are fine.”
I sag within Tris’s arms. “Okay, go play Rambo. I’ll just…stay here.”
As Ros moves to intercept the women, my head falls back on Tris’s shoulder, and I close my eyes as the adrenaline drains out of me.
“Are you okay?” Tris nuzzles my cheek. “You took off like a rabbit with a coyote on your tail.”
I let out a shaky sigh. “If we need wood to build new houses, can we tear down this forest? I hate it so much.”
