Meanwhile, Abi stared with fascination at the crow, who stared with equal fascination back at her. He bobbed at her. Tentatively she held up her wrist. He jumped to it.

To her surprise, his feet were warm. He looked meaningfully at her biscuit, and she offered it to him. He took a corner in his beak, broke it off, tilted his head back and swallowed it. The feathers at his throat rose as the bite went down.

“He likes it when you scratch his head with one finger,” Korlak said around a bit of biscuit.

She offered her finger. The crow didn’t bite it. Instead, he pushed his head into it, and looked at her again.

She started scratching. He closed his eyes and leaned into the scratch, looking blissful. Absently, Abi put her biscuit down and handed Korlak another one just as he finished his last bite of the one he had been eating.

Jicks laughed. “I think you’ve been adopted by a stray,” she said, with only a tinge of mockery.

But for the life of her, Abi couldn’t tell if Jicks meant the crow or the Mage.

17

They made good time, and found a great camping spot next to the river, with plenty of bracken and rough grass for the hinnies to eat and low trees within walking distance for firewood scavenging. Abi reflected, as she helped set up the campsite, that she literally could not have imagined a more peaceful setting, back in Haven. I wonder if Perry prefers places like this, or the city? Since coming back from his adventure, he’d shown little sign of wanting to hare off to the wilderness, but she had no idea if that was his own preference or feeling that he needed to stay to help their father. She had the feeling that if her future included more places like this, and less time in cities . . . she would not be at all unhappy.

The three of them arranged the supplies inside the wagon for the most possible comfort (oat bags on top) when they would go to bed later, and even Korlak managed to relax as Jicks made stew. They admired the sunset, ate, and listened to a particularly melodious nightbird singing in the bushes. The sky blazed with reds and oranges and even deep purple, and the hills cast wonderful, long shadows as the sun set behind them. The stars came out in the east and slowly propagated westward. The fire that Jicks was about to bank sent up a few sparks while the wood crackled and popped. She was about to suggest bed and offer to set up the oatmeal to cook overnight.

And then the bird abruptly stopped singing.