Palinka, with loud squawks, fled back into the orchard and up the nearest tree. Federico circled the trunk, yapping excitedly. Lotti ran after him, shouting for him to come back. She had almost caught up with him … her hand was about to close around his collar, when another hen appeared, and then another … a whole flock of hens at the far end of the orchard! Federico rolled, twisted and streaked away, a toffee-colored blur, bat ears streaming.

Sister Monique emerged at the door of the kitchen, followed by a young nun called Sister Véronique, and then the Reverend Mother. Moses, the gardener, seeing Federico charge toward him, shouted out, a garbled sound, indistinguishable as words, but loud.

On the Sparrowhawk, Elsie pricked up her ears.

Federico, oblivious to danger, galloped on. This was the life! This is what he was born for! This …

Ow!

Moses’s blow caught Federico off guard. It wasn’t a hard blow—it was aimed to deflect, rather than hurt—and it only clipped his shoulder, but it was enough to send him rolling into the long grass. Dazed, Federico staggered to his feet. Moses brandished his rake.

Federico prepared for war.

Behind him, he heard human voices, Lotti running, now followed by Clara and Sister Véronique. Circling him, there was the gardener with the fierce stick. Behind him, there were six fat hens …

And now, there was something else …

More barking, the thud of familiar paws …

Past him, a streak of black, heading straight for Moses …

Up went the rake, up and back, aiming at Elsie. Federico prepared to leap to her defense, but it was too late …

Elsie had already leaped.

The black and white dog hit Moses full in the chest. He staggered and fell, seeing stars. Barking, strangers, shouting … Someone crying. A voice he had heard before, somewhere …

Where?

Hot breath on his face. A rough tongue licking his cheek. A whine in his ear …

He reached up and sank his hand into thick fur.

In his wandering mind, something shifted.

He opened his eyes. Two wide golden eyes gazed back.

He knew those eyes. He’d known them since she was a puppy.

“Hello, Elsie,” he said.

And then a boy was running toward him, and the boy was screaming and sobbing and laughing all at once, and hurling himself on top of him and Elsie so that boy and man and dog were all lying in a tangled heap together in the grass, and Sam said, “Hello, Ben.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Ben began to cry again, not quiet tears now but great, hulking sobs which went on and on as Sam rocked him in his arms, also crying, and in a voice unused for months hoarsely whispered his name, over and over, while Elsie pressed close into them, nuzzling first one brother and then the other.