“This is . . . a lot to take in,” Robin said. “You think this Lady the lupi believe in placed this bond on you? Not Benedict?”
“That part is certain. The Lady is real,” she added. “Not a belief system or a creation myth. I haven’t heard her, but I know those who have, and they are entirely reliable. She’s an Old One.”
Robin chewed that over a moment. “That’s a rather large concept to digest. That you know people who have talked with an Old One, I mean.”
Actually, she knew people who had fought an Old One. Not face-to-face, maybe, but they’d fought her and continued to do so. In her own way, Arjenie was, too.
Uncle Clay turned into their lane. “I’m bothered by one thing.”
“Only one?” She smiled at him. “That’s less than I expected.”
“This mate bond . . . I could have sworn you and Benedict were in love.”
“Oh, I didn’t tell it right! We are. The bond makes us lovers, but it doesn’t make us love each other. We did that part on our own.”
“Ah.” His face creased in a smile that made his beard look much happier. “That’s all right, then.”
“You know where he is right now,” Aunt Robin said suddenly. “Can you tell what’s happening to him?”
“No, I only get a sort of directional sense and a really rough idea of how far away he is.” She pointed. “He’s thataway, more than five miles but less than twenty.”
Her aunt’s face took on a severe cast, one that went well with the Voice of Authority she used next. “Arjenie, you aren’t planning to go looking for him, are you?”
Arjenie’s eyes widened in surprise. She had to ask? “Of course I am.”
Chapter Eleven
The wind had died. The temperature had dropped. Fat white flakes drifted down, reflecting light as they pirouetted toward earth. Benedict limped up yet another hill and snarled at the air.
His leg had gone from painful to searing every time something pulled on the damaged muscle. He moved it as little as possible, but why couldn’t the damn bear have gotten his foreleg instead?
A foolish thought. The bear had meant to kill him. He’d twisted in midair and taken the blow on his haunch, which was vastly better than the gut wound he would otherwise have gotten. Pain was making him stupid as well as cross.
It didn’t help that he didn’t know where he was. He’d gotten spoiled. He could see that now. Back home he could have oriented himself easily anywhere within a couple hundred miles of Clanhome. Here . . . well, he’d looked over a couple maps before they came, but that, it turned out, wasn’t enough. Had he stayed two-footed it might have been, but wolves don’t orient themselves spatially the same way men do. At some point, he’d gotten lost.
We’re about five miles from the south border of the Delacroix land, Coyote told him cheerily.
I wasn’t thinking at you.
Then don’t think so loudly.
Benedict glanced at the little dog trotting tirelessly beside him. How could fifteen pounds of terrier keep going for mile after mile? How are Havoc’s pads holding up?
They’ll do. I may not have enough power to maintain my own body, but I try to be a good guest.
Did that mean Coyote was extending some kind of magical assistance to the little dog? Benedict hoped so.
The terrier stopped. Cocked her head. And something very like a sigh, coated with sadness, washed over Benedict. I was afraid of that.
What?
I’ll tell you as we go. We have to hurry now.
There was a great deal of commotion when they got home. Arjenie expected that. She expected her aunt and uncle to try to talk her out of going to find Benedict, too, and so they did.
She did not expect to find the twins on her side.
“We’ll go with you,” Sammy said.