CHAPTER SEVEN

Winter

"Which way to the river?" I look around the dark forest.

"That's ... the thing." Damon scrunches his face. "Remember how I said things are constantly changing here?"

My stomach drops. "Yeah."

"The landscape can change at a moment's notice. Sometimes the river is there, and sometimes it's not. I'm sure there's a pattern to it, but I haven't been able to figure out what that is."

I chew on my lip. "Okay. No big deal."

Alec climbs on top of a fallen tree and looks around. I can tell he's using his heightened senses to listen for any danger, but Damon doesn't know that. We still haven't told him where we're from or what we are.

Then again, in my case, I don't really know what I am. People at Hawthorn either treated me like I was something special or a freak. No one ever gave me a concrete answer.

"Let's try this way." Alec points.

I nod. He must have picked up on the scent of water or something.

"Sounds good to me." Damon starts walking, his hands on his backpack straps.