She studied him silently, not daring to move. He was fascinated by it. His fingers turned the locket over, examining the edges around the seam and then trailing the thread of a broken gold chain. He wrapped one end of the chain around his finger, twirling it in loops absently. Then he brought it up to his ear, as if straining to hear something deeper than the music. She expected him to jiggle it next, but he did not. He unwound the chain and set the charm in the palm of his hand, studying it more. She saw his head cock to one side, then he turned and gazed at her.

The sudden look startled her. She could almost see his eyes, but the shadow of his cowl prevented it. He did not look chagrined at being found out by her. He seemed not to care the least about her feelings. He studied it again.

“What is that?” Phae asked, almost afraid to ruin the spell the music was casting.

“A trinket,” he replied softly, holding it between two fingers and examining it again. “They sell these in Kenatos.”

Phae was amazed. “How does it work? The song is…haunting.”

He nodded. “These have been around for centuries. Only a Paracelsus knows how they are made. The music stops after a while. It intrigues me.”

He was talking to her. That was something.

“What is the melody? Do you know it?”

The Kishion shook his head. “I don’t. But I should. It is…familiar to me somehow.”

She waited several long moments before speaking. “You’ve heard it before then?” she asked, keeping her voice low and timid. She did not want to push him back into silence.

“I can’t remember. I believe I have.”

She licked her lips and carefully pushed herself up. “It sounds like autumn. Like the first rain after the death of a friend. It is powerful music.”

She saw him nod in agreement. “It is the sound of mourning. I have heard it before.”

Phae slowly stroked her arm, listening to the melody—drawing it into her heart. It made her think of her plight, of never seeing the Winemiller vineyard or Trasen again. It made her heart quail with sadness and longing. It made her want to cry. What creature had created such a thing? The sound of it would haunt her forever, yet its suffering was somehow soothing.

“Where did you get it?” she asked after another lengthy pause. She was very near to tears and felt her throat tighten. Its sadness permeated her bones and marrow.

The locket clicked shut. Her heart lurched when the music ceased. It almost made her plead to hear it again. She was desperate to hear it. Wincing with emotion, she stared at him and saw the expression on his mouth—full of bitterness and almost a sneer at her question.

“From a man that I killed,” he said flatly. “No more questions. You would not like knowing more than that.”

In that moment, there was a snuffling growl at the main door and the light was eclipsed by an even darker shadow—a bear with a shiny black pelt. It yawned with a bellowing cough, dropped to all fours, and charged the Kishion, all muscle and bulk and slathering teeth. A dust-like glitter shook from its pelt as it charged, bringing a strange phosphorescent light with it.

Phae screamed.

The beast was unlike any bear she had seen roaming the mountains of Stonehollow. It was bigger, hunchbacked, and both of its eyes glowed silver. With a roar and snarl it charged, its claws scraping the floor as it hurtled at them.

The Kishion was on his feet instantly, blocking its charge with his own body. The beast smashed into him with a shoulder, sending him back with crushing force into the stone wall. She watched the Kishion’s head snap back, jolted. It started on him without a pause, roaring with fury and raking him with claws and teeth.

She was frozen in terror for only a moment before her legs commanded her to run. She went straight to the nearest window and vaulted out of it, hearing the beast shift and lunge after her. She landed in the tall grass at an odd angle and went down. Its head protruded from the window and slaver splattered against her cheek. It roared in fury and Phae quickly rolled through the grass, struggling to her feet, and sprinted toward the orchard. She knew that bears were faster and that they could run up hills or down hills equally well. Maneuvering through trees might slow it a little, but she did not care. She was fleeing from two enemies at once. The bear’s frightening arrival was the luck she needed.

The limbs of the pear trees whipped at her, but she kept on going, ducking and dodging around them. A roar sounded in the night sky behind her. She heard huffing and then a bark of pain. A battle was raging inside the skull of a home. Phae stumbled over a tree root and went down. The impact bruised her arms, but she shoved herself up and hurried, praying that both of the beasts would kill each other.