Free Blood Winter by Diana Pharaoh Francis

Ivy, and Flint followed. Tyler grabbed Oak’s arm. “You stay with Max. Simon, you’re with me.”
    “But—”
    Whatever Simon was going to say was cut off by Jody smacking the back of his head and shoving him after Tyler. He staggered off and fell into line behind Ivy.
    Oak settled down beside Max. “Tyler has a point,” he said.
    She rolled her eyes at him. He’d only been at Horngate for a couple of months, but he was already too full of himself by far. “You, too? Seriously, did you both drink the same Kool-Aid this morning?”
    “Somebody has to be the voice of reason,” he said, entirely unabashed.
    “You’re saying I’m not reasonable?”
    “That pretty much sums it up.”
    She eyed him sideways. “Does Simon need to worry about your panties, too?”
    He smiled slowly. His brown hair flopped down in his eyes but did not hide the hard glitter there. “It isn’t funny.”
    She nodded. “I know.”
    “You should give in a little to Tyler.”
    She grimaced. “That isn’t the way our world works. We take risks. We get hurt, and we die. The threats are only coming faster and harder. He knows that.”
    “He could break.”
    She stared. “If you’re trying to tell me something, say it straight, and stop playing games.”
    He drew a breath to speak and then shook his head. “You know him better than I do.”
    “That’s right,” Max said, but worry chewed at her. She couldn’t lose Tyler.
    “You might remember he’ll take stupid risks to keep you from doing it first,” he added.
    Max’s hands clenched, and she forced them to relax. Then, without another word, she stood and skimmed along the top of the rimrock. She stopped at the top of a deep crack that cut down into the canyon. It was full of tumbled rocks, trees, and scrub, now layered with a couple of inches of snow. From unseasonably warm to full-on winter in a matter of minutes. This had something to do with the red dust and the preacher witch. She was sure of it.
    But that was a problem for later.
    She jumped down lightly, careful to make no noise. Her Blades followed. Max winced as one of them kicked over a rock and tipped off a small avalanche.
    She kept moving, going for speed rather than stealth. She angled out along the steep side of the canyon. It was quieter going there. The ground was damp and thick with needles. Their footsteps made little sound, and the low-hanging branches masked their movements.
    A breeze ruffled the trees overhead, and Max swiveled her head, sniffing the air. Uncanny magic pooled thick in the canyon. It was an odd combination of bitter and sweet—like a mouthful of salt and cigar butts all drenched in honey. The Divine magic wafted through in thin curls. It was both caustic and sweetly pungent, like lye and patchouli. Mixed in were human smells—salt, blood, and flesh—and that nose-burning rank stench that coated the back of Max’s throat.
    Suddenly, shots rang out, and a ghostly wail coiled through the canyon again, sending splinters of ice through Max’s gut. Her eyes momentarily glazed with a gray film as the sound increased in pitch and intensity before ending on an ear-shredding shriek. Max blinked to clear the grayness and dodged behind a tree. Her Blades scattered, finding their own cover.
    An odd white mist was creeping over the ground. It was about ankle-high and rolled up the sides of the canyon like a layer of wet cotton. It met the falling snow like a tide of poison. Max hopped up onto the top of an outcropping to avoid it. She crouched, scanning the thick trees. More shots rang out, then violent animal sounds, like a couple of wolves fighting. Max grimaced. She didn’t want to get down into the mist if she didn’t have to. It was just as likely to dissolve skin as anything else. But it sounded like she needed to see what was going on down there.
    She decided on the high road, and swung herself up into a tree. She trotted out along a branch and leaped to the next tree. Her Blades followed