Lost and Found by J.J. Collins

Author:J.J. Collins [Collins, J.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

When the length of the shadows told Declan the sun was on its way down, the wolf got up, shook himself, lapped a bit of water, and trotted off to trail the hawk. Killian had not flown away; he’d been too meat-laden for that. Used to flight, which left no tracks, he probably hadn’t any clue on how to hide his trail, or even that he needed to. Declan’s tail waved. This would be a breeze.

Sure enough, Killian’s bare feet had left behind clear, undisguised proof of his passage. The prints led along a thread of a trail that was practically vertical. Declan dug in and climbed, ignoring all minor muscular swears from his leg. At least that was nearly fully healed. Even with four feet he would not have made it up this path a week ago.

At last he reached the top…and froze.

The roof of the bluff was flatter, its earth shadowed with narrow trees that jabbed at the sky like spikes. Other trails led off its back end, down a gentler slope. More trees could be glimpsed here, stretching away from the bluff in a meandering line that marked the course of the river. The entire expanse of the prairie spread out before the front of the bluff in all its daunting emptiness.

Declan paid no attention to either. His attention zoomed in on the center of the bluff—and the cabin planted there.

He circled the dwelling in a nervous slink, every sense alert. When Killian said he had a “nest” up here, Declan hadn’t pictured anything this permanent. Or damaged. At some point in the recent past a tree had blown down and crashed through the roof. Its splintered trunk still jutted out of the building.

Only one breed built cabins, and their kind wasn’t welcome in the woods.

He crept to the door. Time had warped it slightly off its track. A hint of hawk-scent clung to the wood. Nothing else.

Hackles raised, Declan shifted to human. He wrestled the door open just wide enough to slip inside. Here he found dust, and the bones of small beasts swept into a corner. A pile of furs and blankets was arranged beside a cold hearth. The bare crown of the tree pierced the roof. Its topmost branches had been harvested to feed an occasional fire.

He also found Killian, standing before a window that overlooked the prairie below.

“You made it.” Killian turned his head to look at Declan. “Your leg must be healed.”

“Just about.” Declan stepped further into the room, with a nervous eye on the tree trunk. Had the ceiling creaked? “You’ve got a hole in your roof.”

“I’m aware of that,” Killian said drily. “I like having access to the sky.”

“What do you do when it rains?”

Killian shrugged. “Stay away from the hole.”

Of course. True to his nature, Declan started sniffing. This had been a sturdy little hideaway before the tree fell on it. Most of it remained sturdy. He went to the wall and examined its construction. Axe-hewn logs. No chinks.

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