What Moves the Dead (Sworn Soldier, #1)

by T. Kingfisher

“This is all a mess, boy,” I told Hob. His ears indicated that he agreed, particularly since he was not being given a treat. Speaking of, I dug an apple out of a nearby saddlebag. There had been large orchards farther down the mountain and I had purchased several bags, then forgotten about them. Hob, it seemed, had not. “I’m starting to wonder if there really is something in the water. Something fatal.” Hob expressed that lack of apples might prove equally fatal.