Sage unzipped the tent and left it, bringing her jacket and shoes. She swung the jacket over her shoulders, looking up at the stars, and the view stopped her breath in her chest. Canyon came and stood next to her, his chest and legs bare. He pulled his pants on, then stared at the stars. Sage held his arm and they curled their fingers together. Wind picked up, swirling tendrils that had come loose from Sage’s braids. The moment felt magical, like a promise of better days coming.
Canyon kissed her softly on the mouth. “The concrete’s cold,” he said.
Sage laughed, hopping from foot to foot. “Sure is.” She pulled her shoes on and Canyon did the same, then they walked hand in hand to the campsite. Wulf met them at the bottom of the bunker steps and wheeled quietly next to them, throwing light on their path.
“Where’s Timber?”
Canyon pulled her to the truck. She looked in an open window and saw him curled up as a massive black wolf in the passenger seat, a white bandage on his foreleg.
Canyon reached in the window and shook his right flank. “Gotta change your bandage,”
Timber uncurled then looked up at them. He stood and jumped out the window, then stretched his back. He flopped over on his side, appearing to go back to sleep.
Sage squatted near him and worked quickly. In minutes, the bandage change was finished.
“Should we wake him?”
“Nah, let him sleep. He’ll be fine.”
Wulf wheeled close.:I will watch over him—
“Thanks, Wulf. We’re going back to sleep.”
:Goodnight—
“Goodnight.”
They returned to the tent. Canyon stripped down to boxers again, and Sage kept her shirt and panties on. Inside the sleeping bag, Canyon made her the little spoon again. He fell asleep, quickly, not moving, his breathing deep and even.
Sage stared at the stars, feeling adrift, even as Canyon held her tight.
86—Arrested
Abigail drifted.
She lay on the altar in the Templum, resting, but not sleeping. She would not sleep again until thevodwere off the bluff. Her mind swam, mostly quiet, but occasionally thinking of the situation at hand. It had been three days since everything had fallen apart, and Abigail knew exactly who was to blame:‘Little Miss Perfect’.
Sage hadn’t gone to her apartment and so the bear didn’t bite her, and that meant Abigail had no claim to thebearen shiftsegen. Then thevodhad gotten in the way like they always did. They’d tried to pull over Number Six and he’d run north, with thevodchasing. He’d abandoned his truck in Rockton and thevodhad descended upon it, then towed it to Serenity Police Department. So far there was no word from Number Six. Husbands Twelve, Ten, and Thirteen were driving around Rockton looking for him. He was sure to be hiding as a mouse, which made recovering him difficult.
Her phone rang. It was Number Ten. “We found him. We’re bringing him back.”
“Good.” She hung up, checking the time: 4:30 in the morning. She’d had all the rest she was likely to get. She struggled into a sitting position, pulling on her boots. She’d been resting fully clothed, in a checkered wool skirt, dark hose and dark sweater, with a brown and white headscarf covering her hair, and her cask nearby. She slung it around her shoulders.
Ethedra appeared like light above her well, and her voice rang through the cavern. “Abigail!”
Abigail startled, then snapped, “What?”
“Sage has reappeared!” Ethedra called. Abigail rubbed her eyes. Ethedra was dressed in a simple black cloak, her vortex in her hands.
“Where?” Abigail stepped carefully onto a stepstool, down off the altar, heading over to get a look. ‘Little Miss’ had somehow disappeared entirely since she’d left treatment. Abigail and Ethedra together, using all their tricks, hadn’t been able to locate her. This wasn’t the first time. Abigail had long suspected some of her progeny had a hidey-hole somewhere in town that was hidden from Abigail with magic—her own tricks used against her. Another possibility was ‘Little Miss’ had spent the day and night rutting with thevodout at Village Fleabag. The One True Mates had laid thick concealment on top of Village Fleabag, more with each mate who moved in, and Abigail could no longer gather information from the area under most circumstances.
Ethedra raised one arm with a flourish. “The fates say she’s ‘up the bluff’.”
“Which bluff?”
Ethedra scowled and dropped her arm. “How many are there?”
“Four.”
