After a minute of silence, save for his breathing, he straightened, waved at the others to follow, and increased the pace for a while. If Huxor stopped to rest, for any length of time, they would have him.

To keep from giving themselves away, they kept their glow stones in their pockets despite the narrowing of the path and the likelihood of an ambush. Of all nights, why did both Hestia’s moons have to hide their faces now?

Though it galled him to put any man in danger, Tearloch motioned to Sweetie to take the lead. Since the interrupted spell that left his friend partially transformed, the big man had an animal’s sight and hearing. If someone lay in wait, Sweetie would know it first.

Instead of parading down the middle of the path, they moved to the left and inched along the south wall with weapons in hand. Minutes crawled by as they picked their way through the narrowest stretch yet. Every muscle in Tearloch’s neck and shoulders ached from constant coiling. Finally, when the trail widened, they all relaxed a measure.

Minkin increased her pace to catch up with him. “Do you suppose she took a wrong turn?”

“I do not. This is her home. If anyone were to get lost, it would be us.”

“I thought she was resolved to come with us.”

“You’d like to travel with another woman.”

“Naturally. But I was thinking more of her white hair, that it might?—”

“Remind me of a pain I try every day to forget?”

She shrugged. “I was going to say it might…numb you. So you didn’t associate all white hair with…her.”

“Stop trying to help me, Minkin. I can’t be helped. And we are lucky the impulsive creature changed her mind. None of us needs the distraction, and we certainly don’t need some woman taking Huxor’s fate—and Sweetie’s—out of our hands.”

Sweetie stopped abruptly and Tearloch followed suit. The walls had moved drastically apart, and far to the right, they heard the trickle of water. And sniffing.

“There,” Sweetie said, pointing to a bundle of white against the dark wall of stone.

Tearloch pulled a small glow stone from his pocket and tossed it in that direction. Ten feet beyond, it illuminated white apprentice robes and a mop of white hair. Apparently, the impulsive creature had known a shortcut. Now he cursed himself for not asking about the possibility. If he had, they might have gotten ahead of Huxor.

The minx lifted her face from her folded arms and blinked to see beyond the glow. Her gaze shot first to Sweetie, then to him. Tears had cut a path down her sun-roasted cheeks. “He’s gone. Escaped the canyon.”

Minkin joined her and put her arm around the girl’s shoulders, the traitor. “How do you know?”

“A boy…snuck a ride on his father’s winged steed, stopped here for a drink. Your friend attacked him, took the beast, and flew away.”

“Where is this child now?”

She pointed off to her left. “Lives at the top of this gorge. I gave him some protection, and he’s gone home.”

“Protection?”

“Dragonspice. He hadn’t considered he would need it, with the flying beast. He was terrified.”

Tearloch didn’t understand half of what she said, but the gist was clear. Huxor had escaped. They could never catch him. Of course, she might be lying, but he doubted it. She seemed genuinely disappointed that her prey had gotten away, and her frustration was reflected in the knot in his chest.

Now, after two long months of tracking the man, the hunt would have to start over, at Sunbasin, which was still two days away. And who knew how many days they had left?

He wanted to vent his exasperation with a roar and a good run, but his legs protested. He couldn’t remember when he’d last rested. Sweetie put his back to the wall and sank to the ground, making the decision for him—the hunt was suspended for the night.

Tearloch moved closer, forced himself to be civil. “We never asked your name.”

“Asper,” she said, reluctantly, as if she didn’t trust him with it.

“Asper. We shall rest here, leave when the sun rises. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” his friends murmured.

He removed his water horn from his belt and offered it to her. After she took a drink, he looked for something kind to say. “You’ll want to wash those tears from your face.”