I spin and run before I can think, feet sticky in the sand, feeling myself slip and slide on the now shifting footing as I turn around and hurtle back into the main room. Fleur is nowhere to be seen. I throw myself toward the second door and find her standing back from the pile of armor, her face tight with shock, a newly strung longbow and quiver of arrows over one shoulder and something white and long in one hand.
When I come to her side and take it from her, her horror reverberating between us, made worse when I examine the length of light, white material and realize with a burn of bile in the back of my throat it's a bone.
"Elvish," she says, pointing at the end and the rounded joint end where a spiral of pale green winds around it as if a vine grew inside at one point. "My own sub r
