A ripple disturbs the surface of a distant lake, a vast shape moving beneath it. A shadow passes over the trees, too large to be a cloud. Near the tree line, Rex lounges like a bad-tempered bear, eyeing newcomers with open suspicion and wearing a yellow bow that I desperately try not to stare at. Akai flits overhead, wings catching the light as he shouts unsolicited advice at anyone who will listen.
And then there’s Bob.
He descends in a crackle of displaced air and static, wings snapping open as lightning dances along the edges. He lands with the kind of confidence that suggests the ground exists primarily for his convenience.
“Boone!” he calls, already moving. “You’re late. You’re early. Both are problems. Where have you been?”
“Good to see you too,” I reply dryly.
Elias stares openly. Apparently the first meeting wasn’t enough to prepare him for a second introduction.
Bob notices and grins, feathers ruffling. “Ah. Elias, you made it. Christopher will be pleased.”
Elias blinks. “Right, yes. I did.”
“Christopher!” Bob says cheerfully.
Bob’s human emerges from behind a supply truck, waving. Christopher’s presence is calming in a way I hadn’t fully appreciated until now—steady, competent, unflappable. Elias brightens immediately, drawn to him like a lodestone.
Though in all honesty, it’s probably relief at not being the only human here.
I watch them interact, relief easing the tightness in my chest. Christopher knows how to exist in this world. Knows the rhythms, the expectations, the unspoken rules. Elias will be safe with him.
Or safer.
Bob claps a wing against my shoulder. “Walk with me.”
I glance at Elias. He catches my eye, gives me a small, reassuring smile. “Go. I’ll be fine.”
I nod once, then follow Bob away from the bustle.
“You’re wound tight,” Bob observes without preamble.
“A creature followed us here,” I say.
That gets his full attention. He slows, lightning along his feathers dimming. “Followed?”
“Yes. It never crossed the wards, but it tested them. And before that—” I hesitate, then continue. “It wasn’t tracking me.”
Bob’s expression shifts, the humor draining away. “It was tracking him. Your Elias.”
“Yes.”
We stop near a stand of lodgepole pines, the noise of the gathering fading behind us. Bob folds his wings in, suddenly very still.
“What did it feel like?” he asks.
“Wrong,” I say. “Displaced. Like it didn’t belong to the land and didn’t care that it didn’t belong.”
Bob exhales slowly. “That narrows it. Not enough.”
“I’ve never sensed anything like it,” I admit. “And that’s what worries me.”
He studies my face for a long moment, then nods. “All right. We don’t panic. We research.”
I huff. “You say that like it’s simple.”
Bob grins, lightning flickering back to life. “It’s never simple. That’s why I have you.”
