The Sentinels but the well is dry

She was being exceedingly nice considering Sam was asking her to use a skill he had recently dismissed as hard-boiled baloney. His own inherited superstitions made no more sense – a vindictive invisible something that lived in every forest? Sure.

Sam pressed their shoulders together – a habit he had formed very quickly, steering their bodies as one eight-legged beast. He flashed the Ghost a mortified look that she could not see when she asked about his intended sacrifice. "What? No, you're my friend." Somewhere along the road, this had become fact.