Garrett's blunt claws beat out a rhythmic tattoo on the floor as he ran. Grey foxes were built for speed, agile creatures who could run without getting easily winded.

He turned down first one corridor and then another, trying to outrun the hounds. Maybe the ever-changing labyrinth would prove to be helpful instead of the usual hindrance. He turned and asked Meg, his voice tight with short breathing, "Are they gone yet?"