There he went through the whole process again, with no better results.

That left only one other place she might be . . . if she hadn’t already travelled on to wherever it was the spirits of the green-bree went when they were done with this world. But he didn’t think she was gone yet. Spirits were never so quick to leave when their deaths were as unexpected and violent as hers had been. It was why there were ceremonies for the dead. To comfort those left behind, certainly, but also to allow the dead to let go and travel on.

The cerva would have had a ceremony for her. The question was where?

He started casting for scent once more and quickly found Walker’s. The thought of coming face to face with the tall grim cerva was more than Rabedy could easily contemplate. He’d only ever seen Walker from a distance, and he’d like to keep it that way. But Walker’s trail would take him where he needed to go.

He gave a nervous look around himself, ears cocked, nostrils flared, before finally following the cerva’s scent into the between. The trail was old, but his dog’s nose was keen and he had no trouble staying with it. He went cautiously, every sense attuned to his surroundings so that he wouldn’t run into the cerva, or another green-bree, without having a chance to hide first.

Because it was an old trail, it took him some time to finally reach the shore of a lake where he was sure that the ceremony had taken place. Here, the faint traces of Walker’s trail disappeared into a maelstrom of cerva scents. Hundreds of different ones, but no one was here now. The beach was deserted. The water was dark where it lapped against the shore, though not as dark as the charred remains of a fire that lay halfway between the water and the rocks where he hid.

This was where the war against fairy must have been conceived, Rabedy decided. The leader of the buffalo clans would have realized that he could use this sorrowful occasion as a fulcrum to convince the others to follow his lead. Not immediately. Not here, at this ceremony. But soon after, while the sorrow and anger still ran hot in the blood of the cerva.

But what of the spirit herself?

Was she still here? Would she listen to him?

He stepped out from the rocks and padded across the granite slab to what was left of the ceremonial fire. The fur at his neck and along his spine began to prickle when he got close. He stopped and looked around. Lifting his muzzle, he searched for scents. He was still alone on the shore.