"He's focused on something-or someone-over her shoulder.The harmonious warbling of the rainforest morphs into organized disarray, as if a primitive maestro has thrown conducting to the wind and let Mother Nature take over. Birds trill a warning as the breeze rustles the plant life. Wings flutter overhead. A crescendo of stridulation changes tempo, the insects seemingly performing a sonata as the rhythm shifts yet again.'What-who is it? Summer asks in a strained whisper.His gaze lands on her, his brows furrowing. 'The Forsaken."