Phoenix Maplewood through the curtains of the waterfall.

Coming across the Maplewood may as well have been yet another omen cast for them. But it's empty forest had provided them with shelter for the time being, though he had no interest in staying there permanently. If the wolves had left there, something must have gone wrong as well, and he would not take any more of a risk than they had already made by leaving their own territory. Nightfall and weary bones had ushered them to halt, and so he slept, surprisingly well.

He slept well enough that whatever tossing and turning occurred did not wake him readily, and if it did he scarcely retained memory of the event. Even throughout all that had befallen them, Mordecai could not have claimed a total lack of sleep. At least in the throes of rest, he normally did not remember his worries or frustrations, perhaps did not even bother to dream of anything close to it in particular.

The initial wave of bugs did not stir him as it should have; they were too easily passed off as little paws stepping across him in some mock escape attempt. But the sudden jerk of Harlyn crying out pulled him swiftly into action before he was ready. The run of insects gave him a further start because of their sheer number, but it passed in lieu of building curiosity and concern as to where so many had come from.