The Beast sniffed it and made a disgusted face. Then it scrunched its nose and licked it.
“Was the taste worth it? Just to make me look stupid?”
The Lufthund lifted its chin up, snobbylike, as if to say it had been. On top of being dangerous, Barclay’s Beast seemed a snide sort of know-it-all.
Barclay sighed and tossed the charm into the snow. He should’ve known Dullshire’s charms didn’t really work, like Viola had told him.
“You know what I don’t understand?” he asked. “How did I even bond with you? Because it doesn’t sound like anyone can bond with a Beast by accident.”
The Lufthund’s dark eyes met his, and Barclay got the sense that it was trying to tell him something. But, of course, he didn’t get a response.
“This place is turning me bonkers,” he muttered. “It’s not like you can talk to me.”
The Beast’s face wrinkled, as though affronted.
Barclay put his hands on his hips. “Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t ask to be bonded with you.”
It sat down and lifted its front paws, mimicking Barclay.
“Don’t do that.” Barclay dropped his hands.
The Lufthund did too.
“You know, everyone in Sycomore already makes fun of me. I don’t need it from you.”
Barclay kicked at the snow. The wind picked it up and scattered it in flurries, and the Lufthund barked and ran after them, its tail wagging. Once the snow settled, the Beast turned around, watching Barclay eagerly, as if this were all a game.
Barclay sighed. Without his charm, Barclay resorted to the only other thing to help him think—running. It didn’t matter that it was freezing, or late, or dark. He needed to move. He needed to movefast.
Come back,Barclay thought, trying to send the Lufthund back to the Mark.
The Beast whined.
“So you’re being stubborn, then?” Barclay asked. Viola had told Barclay he needed to know his Beast, and so far, he didn’t like him.
The Beast whined again, and it was such a sad sound that Barclay suddenly felt rather bad for it. Viola had said that Lufthunds weren’t pack animals, but maybe this one got lonely. As an orphan with few real friends, Barclay knew the feeling.
“Fine,” Barclay told it, trudging to the closest street. Lightning bugs filled the lanterns dangling from the trees, lighting the path. He didn’t know his way around Sycomore,but the winding alleys called to him, urging him to run, no matter if he got lost.
But still he hesitated.No running. No filth. No wildness.It was hard to shake off Dullshire’s rules, even if he wasn’t in Dullshire anymore. But then a breeze rushed past, as though asking him to join it. And Barclay realized there was something to like about Sycomore after all.
He took off.
It felt so good, the wind in his hair, his heart pounding. He knew every corner and cranny of Dullshire, and he was surprised by how much he loved the feeling of getting lost in Sycomore. Every turn meant a new discovery. A small adventure.
The Lufthund caught up and ran beside him. Barclay considered stopping—the Beast wasnothelping him clear his head. But the Lufthund looked more content than Barclay had ever seen it, its tail wagging, its jaws open like a smile. It clearly loved this as much as Barclay did.
So Barclay decided to let the Beast stay beside him. To keep running.
It couldn’t hurt, just for one night.
FIFTEEN
Barclay didn’t tell the others about his night running with the Lufthund. He didn’t want them to think he was second-guessing his decision to go back to Dullshire, because he wasn’t. His life had changed so much in the past week that he just needed a moment to think.
That didn’t mean he’d betrayed his parents.
But if that was true, then why did he feel a little bit guilty?
