Blood Moon (Silver Moon, #3) - By Rebecca A. Rogers Page 0,35

detect any ground traps, Ben and I figure, is by snatching up large twigs or sticks and poking the forest floor before us. So far, we’ve only come across one extra death pit. Who knows how many more we’ll find?

“This is tiring,” says Ben. He looks worn-out; his eyelids appear heavy, his shoulders hang loosely, and his prodding has become lax.

“I don’t even know where we’re at,” I say, “or how far this forest extends. We could be lost in here for days.”

Ben frowns. “We’ll find a way out.” Just then, his stick pokes at loose surface. A small portion of leaves and netting give in, collapsing like a domino effect. “Whoa.” Ben takes a step back. “Another hole with spikes. Nice.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Will this ever end?”

I think his question is rhetorical, but I answer anyway. “We’re probably not even close to being finished with these things. Everywhere we turn, a new trap lies in wait, and we have to disarm it, or find a way around it. We’re running out of time.”

Ben grits his teeth. “You think I don’t know that? Those crazy women could be right behind us, egging on our deaths so they can move forward with their master plan, which, by the way, we haven’t figured out yet.”

“Okay, remember exactly where these traps are, because the second we reach the end is the second I zap us back to the beginning, so we can do this all over again.”

“What the hell would you do that for?” Ben admonishes.

“So we can gain some ground on the witches. If we know where the traps are, we can avoid them and move on. By the time they work their way through the labyrinth of death, we’ll be long gone, because we’re already clued-in.”

“Can’t we just go back to the cottage and run in the opposite direction? That sounds way easier.”

“We’ve already chosen this path,” I reply. “If we go back and change the past, selecting a different outcome, the future will be different. We could literally spend hours trying to prevent things from happening, but those hours are lost time we can’t really make up. They’re useless. It’s the same as traveling to this time period—we have to be extremely careful with our actions, as they directly affect our futures.”

“All right, so . . . how about we just make a run for it once we’re in the clear?” he asks. We’re both tired and hungry, and most definitely want to escape the wooded region, but we have to keep our heads on straight.

I stop walking and jabbing the ground. “Listen, I know this sucks and we didn’t sign up for this, but we need to think about the bigger picture—our families, our friends, everyone who has a place in our hearts. They’re depending on us, Ben. We can’t do that if we’re arguing about whether or not using our powers is the right thing to do.”

“Whatever,” he mumbles.

As I resume my prodding, I find yet another trap designed to kill anyone who stumbles upon it. Staring down into the pit, I notice not one but two skeletons at the bottom. I struggle for breath.

“What is it?” Ben asks, edging up beside me. “Oh, no.” He squeezes his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose. “May they rest in peace, whoever they were.”

An ominous sensation floods my senses. “Ben, what if they were the men Fiona was talking about, the ones who went after the wolves but never returned?” In a tiny voice, I ask, “What if one of them is her husband?” Peering up at Ben, his Adam’s apple bobs, but he doesn’t say a word.

Clearing his throat, he gruffly suggests that we should keep moving, in case the witches show up. I agree that it’s a good idea; we can’t delay progress any longer. Besides, it’ll be dusk soon, and we shouldn’t be out here after dark.

By my best estimate, thirty more minutes have passed, and Ben and I find one more death trap. But as we move forward in our expedition of this forest and away from the witches who hunt us, we literally stumble upon another problem: tripwires.

“I can’t believe you almost triggered that,” I tell Ben, as he attempts to figure out where the wire leads, and what it leads to.

“Oh, my God. You have got to see this.”

I bound over to where Ben stands. He’s glancing upward, where the trees meet the sky. At first, I’m