She was undoubtedly the source of the working. The marrow of the valley had her scent to it. A fire-worker, then? He opened his mouth, breathing deeply and tasting the scents. No, not fire — heat. The marrow was thrumming with the echoes of the energy it had been worked to produce.

No wonder the émigré wanted her. The wolf chuffed, disgusted. Humans and their games.

The isolate’s cinder-filled wind played through his fur. The language it spoke was ancient and strange.

He looked back at the girl, curled up on the blackened earth.

Hatchling, the wind sighed.

Flee.

Chapter 23

“Pup.”

I just about jumped out of my skin, then scrambled around trying to get up.

“I will not hurt you,” the voice said.

Finally I managed to get to my knees. It was hard going — my muscles were cramped from the cold.

I stared into the night, my breath coming in gasps. I couldn’t see whoever’d spoken. There were about a million stars in the sky, but no moon. It was very dark.

I tried twice to speak before I managed to make any sound.

“Who’s there?”

“Ghosteater.”

My mind wrestled with the word, trying to understand. Madisyn’s giant doggie? Here?

“Ghosteater … from Dorf?”

He materialized out of the darkness, silvery coat luminous in the starlight, and walked toward me on his footless legs.

“Did you come here for me?”

Stupid question. Why else would he be here?

“The émigré Cordus sent people. I came too.”

He looked up at the stars and took several deep breaths. Then his golden eyes came back to my face, and he studied me in silence for some time. Finally, he walked up to me, circled like a huge hound, and lay down.

“Lie here,” he said. “I will warm you.”

He’d get no argument from me — I was freezing. I lay down next to him and nestled my back up against his belly, which was soft and very warm. I was still cold, but it was a lot better than before. I fell asleep immediately.

In the morning, Ghosteater used his keen nose to find my jeans and sweater, which had drifted some way downriver. While he was off retrieving them, I searched up and down the river for the ’pus but couldn’t find it.

After Ghosteater returned with my clothes and I laid them out to dry, he gave all my bites a thorough cleaning with his tongue. I had trouble thinking of him as an animal, so it seemed weirdly intimate. I tried to squirm away, but he put a massive foreleg across me and held me down. Then he caught a large fish in the river and watched as I ate it. I felt like a toddler under the eye of a stern parent.

Once I’d pulled my still-damp clothes on, I started to search again for the ’pus.

“What do you seek?”