“Well, she doesn’t seem to get those, you know, ‘premonitions’ anymore. Since we left the city, she hasn’t warned us once about being in danger, not even when we really were.” He paused, thinking. “Not since that kid with the burned face took her away.”

Chalk thought about it. “Guess that’s right. What do you think happened to her?”

“I don’t know. I’m just saying.”

“Maybe he did something to her.”

“No, Owl would know. Candle would tell her. I think it’s something else, but I don’t know what. I know I don’t like it. We could always count on Candle to keep us safe. Now we can’t. I don’t think we can, anyway. I don’t think she’s getting those warnings anymore.” He pursed his lips. “That’s another reason I think it’s a good thing we have Cat with us. She’s almost as good at sensing danger as Candle.”

Chalk sniffed. “Yeah, she was great back there when Krilka Koos and his militia found us and took Logan Tom away. She sensed that one right away.”

Fixit did a slow burn but managed to keep himself from taking the bait. “I’m just saying,” he repeated, and went silent again.

SPARROW HAD BEEN WATCHING CANDLE, too, and was harboring many of the same thoughts as Fixit. She was sitting with Owl and River, but they were busy talking about what to do to replenish their diminishing supplies and paying no attention to her. So she got up and walked over to where Candle was petting Cheney and sat down beside her. She didn’t say anything right away, just reached over and joined the little girl in stroking the wolf dog’s shaggy head. Cheney, who looked asleep but wasn’t—same as always—was ignoring both of them. But with Cheney, you couldn’t always tell. He might actually be enjoying the attention.

It was Candle who spoke first. “I’m glad Cheney’s back,” she said quietly. “Aren’t you?”

“I’m glad all three of them are back,” Sparrow answered. “It didn’t feel right when they were gone.”

Candle nodded. “Do you think Cheney missed us?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I think he did. I think he knows we’re his family, and when he isn’t with us, he misses us.”

She spoke in short, breathy bursts, as if struggling to get it all out. She didn’t sound at all like the Candle that Sparrow knew. “I think you’re probably right, peanut,” she said. Candle didn’t look happy with this. “I just wish he’d do something to let me know for sure.”