Justin could feel his every heartbeat thudding against the forest floor. Someone was coming. He didn't know how many of them there were, but as they closed in, he could hear them talking in hushed tones.
Justin hadn't noticed until now, but the snow had stopped falling. He looked at the steeds. They stood still and quiet, but one sound, one nervous clomp of a hoof, one swish of a tail-
A noise broke the silence: a creaking strain. Turning, Justin saw that it was the sound of Hook drawing back his bowstring. The bow's limbs curved under the pressure, and the arrow's feathered fletching came to rest at the corner of Hook's lips.
Between tree limbs of snow-powdered needles, Justin saw movement. The quick appearance of a hand. A shoulder, visible through an opening for a split second. A helmeted head, followed by another. And another. Less than twenty-five yards away and getting closer. Justin thought he heard the words, "them," "here," and "find."