Seeds of Rebellion by Brandon Mull

bread and cheese into his backpack. He left several drooma on the counter, along with a couple of jewels. He would not be surprised if the suspicious villagers threw the payment into the sea, but he wanted to try to leave some reparation for what had occurred, even though he was painfully aware that no amount of money could replace a lost life.
    After exiting through the back door, Jason turned to the dark figure. “Now I know you’re a torivor. No need to pretend otherwise. Can you talk to my mind?”
    Jason sensed no thoughts besides his own.
    “Come on.” He saw no one as he returned to the gate and climbed over.
    Jason tramped through moonlit snow up to his knees. The still, frigid air seemed almost brittle. His hooded parka, gloves, and snow pants kept out the worst of the chill. He moved along a slope populated by tall pines shrouded in white, his breath pluming frostily with every exhalation.
    A long howl reached his ears from farther down the mountainside, the mournful notes echoing hauntingly. A louder howl answered from higher up the slope, making Jason pause, frozen by primal, instinctive fear.
    Where was he going? Somewhere important. How did he get here? It didn’t matter. Or did it? If he didn’t hurry, he might end up as wolf chow. Or would he?
    Jason put his hands on his hips. Why would he come alone into snowy mountains? He wouldn’t. Hadn’t he been hiking along a beach in Lyrian? This was another dream!
    “I’m not playing,” Jason announced, sitting down. He stared at the snow in front of him, willing it to melt. Nothing happened. The icy air felt real in his lungs.
    From higher up the slope came a distant, thunderous rumbling.
    “Avalanche,” Jason mumbled. “Didn’t see that coming.” He remained seated. If he could learn to endure these dreams without panicking, maybe he could finally get some sleep.
    “You should not be here,” said a male voice behind him.
    Jason looked over his shoulder and found Drake standing there, taller than he should have been, hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword, eyes black. Resisting his fear, Jason stood and faced the phantom seedman. “What’s with all the snow? Is this the Christmas special? Let’s do the roller coaster again.”
    “You are going to die.”
    “True, sooner or later. You’re the annoying shadow creaturefollowing me. I’m glad we have a place to talk. You shouldn’t have killed that guy back at the village. Now I really don’t like you.”
    “You have brought destruction to all you love.”
    Jason could hear the avalanche building momentum as it drew nearer. The oncoming roar was terrifying, but he tried to think of it as nothing more than impressive special effects. “Another spooky warning. Honestly, after today, this dream feels sort of minor league.”
    Drake cocked his head, as if perplexed, then pointed up the slope.
    Jason could now see the avalanche coming, a massive tide of whiteness devouring everything in its path. It was seconds away. The ground began to tremble.
    “I get it,” Jason said, deliberately making his expression bland. “I also get that it isn’t real. Smell you later.”
    Drake held up a hand. As the avalanche reached them, it forked, devastating everything to either side, but leaving Drake and Jason untouched. The uproarious sound was unnerving, as was the quaking ground, as were the few stray bits of snow that peppered Jason. Eventually the avalanche passed, leaving a bare field of white to either side, all trees swept away.
    “Does this mean we can talk?” Jason asked. “I’d love to know what’s really going on. Why are you following me?”
    “I obey,” the fake Drake said.
    “You obey Maldor?”
    “You must be taken.”
    Jason brushed snow off his parka. “Why do you even care?”
    “I am indifferent.”
    Jason stared at the phony Drake. “Are you his slave, Lurky? Do you mind if I call you Lurky?”
    “Come. Attack me. You want to hurt me.”
    Jason almost grinned. “Is that what