Run.
The word hung in the smoky air long after Lady Heila hopped down from her boulder, and Charlotte couldn't stop hearing it.
In every fairy story she'd ever read, there was always someone who warned the heroes to turn back. A crone at a crossroads, or a weathered veteran who had barely survived the dangers ahead. And the heroes never listened to the warning, or even if they did, they never turned back. Charlotte had always thought them terribly foolish for it.
She didn't think so now.
Her fingers had found Adala's arm without noticing, and she was holding on so tightly that her knuckles ached through her gloves.
"Do you want to go back?" Adala murmured as she placed herself protectively between Charlotte and the place where the witches gathered. "If you do, say the word, and I'll go with you," she promised.
