“You will obey me,” Barclay told it. “Because you are a Beast and I’m your Keeper. And I need you to. I don’t care what they say—I can’t be a Lore Keeper forever.”

While the Lufthund was distracted with inspecting the squirrel meat, Barclay tried once again to summon wind. He’d placed a pine cone on the remains of a rotted tree stump, and he aimed to topple it over. A wind appeared, though far above Barclay’s head, rattling the branches. The cone remained in place.

Barclay collapsed onto the stump and stared at his Beast. The Beast let out a loud huff from its nostrils, and its tail twitched. Like it was laughing at him.

“I’m no good at this,” Barclay grumbled. “Even if I did stay here, I’d make a terrible Lore Keeper.”

The Beast huffed again, as though agreeing with him.

“Think I’m funny, do you?” Barclay asked. When the Lufthund padded closer, Barclay reached into his pocket for his Beast-warding charm. The Lufthund eyed it curiously, even when he should have been shrinking away.

“Viola was right. This doesn’t work, does it?”

The Beast sniffed it and made a disgusted face. Then it scrunched its nose and licked it.

“Was the taste worth it? Just to make me look stupid?”

The Lufthund lifted its chin up, snobbylike, as if to say it had been. On top of being dangerous, Barclay’s Beast seemed a snide sort of know-it-all.

Barclay sighed and tossed the charm into the snow. He should’ve known Dullshire’s charms didn’t really work, like Viola had told him.

“You know what I don’t understand?” he asked. “How did I even bond with you? Because it doesn’t sound like anyone can bond with a Beast by accident.”

The Lufthund’s dark eyes met his, and Barclay got the sense that it was trying to tell him something. But, of course, he didn’t get a response.

“This place is turning me bonkers,” he muttered. “It’s not like you can talk to me.”

The Beast’s face wrinkled, as though affronted.

Barclay put his hands on his hips. “Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t ask to be bonded with you.”

It sat down and lifted its front paws, mimicking Barclay.

“Don’t do that.” Barclay dropped his hands.

The Lufthund did too.

“You know, everyone in Sycomore already makes fun of me. I don’t need it from you.”

Barclay kicked at the snow. The wind picked it up and scattered it in flurries, and the Lufthund barked and ran after them, its tail wagging. Once the snow settled, the Beast turned around, watching Barclay eagerly, as if this were all a game.

Barclay sighed. Without his charm, Barclay resorted to the only other thing to help him think—running. It didn’t matter that it was freezing, or late, or dark. He needed to move. He needed to move fast.

Come back, Barclay thought, trying to send the Lufthund back to the Mark.

The Beast whined.

“So you’re being stubborn, then?” Barclay asked. Viola had told Barclay he needed to know his Beast, and so far, he didn’t like him.