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Malakai doesn’t scare easily. I’m not entirely convinced he remembers how. But he’s staring at the dirt on his hands like it doesn’t belong there.

“Kai?”

He rubs his palms against his pants, but the soil only smears darker across his skin. “There’s roots beneath the south field."

My stomach tightens.

Kai looks up at us. “They’ve been dead since 1791.”

Neither of us says a word. We don’t need to. There’s only one reason he would be telling us this.

Still, I make him say it. “What about them?”

He swallows. “They’re growing.”

Rhett’s expression empties. “How much?”

”Three feet since she entered the maze.”

Fuck.

”And the others?” I ask.

He looks toward the scarecrow.

I already know what he’s going to say but still I ask. “How many?”

”Seven.”

My blood goes cold. “No.”

”Seven.” He repeats.

”There were five.”

“Now there’s seven.”

Rhett looks behind us. His humor completely gone. “When?”

“During the Hunt.”

”That isn’t possible,” I say.

Malakai’s eyes settle on mine. “Neither is she.”

Silence swallows us whole.

Then… scratch.

Rhett turns and I follow.

The scarecrow’s hand moves. One finger drags slowly across the wooden beam. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

Rhett exhales. “Well.”

I look at him. “What?”

”I was going to suggest we drink.”