Apollo didn't need to consider. The bow pulled him eastward with insistent pressure, like a lodestone sensing true north. "East," he replied, pointing toward the densest part of the forest. "That way."
"Of course," Nik muttered, limping to his position in their ragged column. "Why would it ever be toward sunshine and meadows and safety?"
They left the clearing without looking back, though Apollo could feel the residual awareness of the forest lingering over the fallen wolves like a mourner at a grave. The gold in his veins pulsed in warning rhythm, matching his footsteps as he led them deeper into shadow.
---
The forest changed as they traveled east, subtle transformations that might have gone unnoticed if Apollo hadn't been watching for them.
