Elayra licked her lips and shook her head at Ghent’s last question. Before she could give an actual answer, Ghent succumbed to the forest. His terrified shout shattered through the quiet of the woods, bouncing off the trees and repeating back to them in an unnatural echo.
	Elayra shouted in surprise and stumbled a step forward when he bumped into her, her saber drawn in an instant at the panic in his voice, before his words actually registered. Behind them, she heard the familiar [i]shing[/i] of Drust partially drawing his katana, quickly followed by an angered snarl and a sharp, clicking snap as he replaced it.
	Heart pounding from the fright Ghent gave her, her face twisted in anger as she realized what had caused his outburst. 
	“You idiotic chicken!” she shouted at him, sword still drawn with the contemplation of using its hilt to knock Ghent out. But then, they would have his dead weight to deal with.
	She inhaled and spun around, positive she had heard an echoic laugh behind her. The dust motes in one of the trees turned into a misty figure for a fraction of a second, before it dashed away, turning into a blur that vanished into thin air, leaving only the forest in its wake. 
	A deeper, sardonic chortle sounded, blending in with the first and radiating from another part of the woods. Another breeze stirred up around them, this one lower to the ground. It picked up fallen leaves, making them billow about their feet before swirling toward the foliage above, as if the leaves were trying to return to their lost perches. 
	“Give them fuel, and they’ll do more than just ruffle your hair!” Drust snarled through his teeth. His neck twitched violently. 
	Elayra held her sword defensively in front of her, her gaze cast about the forest, hoping Drust could keep it together. Another misty figure darted between the trees to her left, this one closer than the first, before disappearing [i]into[/i] a tree.
	She tried to take a couple breaths, to push back the despairing dread crawling up her, seeping into the soles of her feet from the very ground upon which she stood, but it clutched at her chest—fuel for the less than helpful spirits.
	Drust turned his back to them. “Elayra! Eyes ahead!” he snapped, his head doing a double twitch as he took a backwards step toward them. His gaze scanned the trees behind them, his stance firm and defensive. “Keep going!” He angled his body to keep his charges in his peripherals without compromising too much of his view of the forest.
	Unsure if he would see, Elayra nodded stiffly, her grip on her sword tightening to keep her hand from trembling.
	“Stay between us!” she ordered with a glance over her shoulder to Ghent, her usual mask cracking fractionally to show her uncertain apprehension. “And [i]try[/i] not to do anything stupid, Featherhead!”
	She started forward again, sparing only half a glance behind her to be sure Ghent followed.
	Before they could move more than a couple paces, more of the dust motes seemed to gather together in the morning light to their right. In little more than a blink of an eye, it spiraled upward, then shot forward. A hazy, featureless face with only a mouth open in a scream formed at its point, a high-pitched whine somewhere between an angry wind and a pained shriek rising from it as it shot straight for Ghent.