Page 33 of Discovered Magic
“Is someone else here?” Wilder asked.
“Horse,” Stands-in-Shadow replied with a half smile.
“I can return you immediately. Your líí' will not suffer,” Castor assured him.
“I will not leave him. He is all I have anchoring me to this world.”
Anchoring him? What the hell did he mean? Mentally? Physically?
“My spirit drifts,” Stands-in-Shadow explained as if reading Wilder’s inner thoughts.
“How does a horse stop you from drifting?”
“You would call it love.” The man met his gaze. “It is how you found this place.”
Let him believe what he would. Wilder wouldn’t argue that he hadn’t controlled their time hop.
“Okay, what if I stay with your horse and you show Castor the town? He can return you here once he has the coordinates, then I’ll go with him to find Mary.”
When he received an affirmative nod, he looked at Castor. “I’m assuming you can tap into his mind without me?”
“It may be easier without your thoughts crowding ours.” Holding out a hand, Castor waited as the Native man considered it. “Trusting a stranger is difficult, but I mean you no harm. You have my word that I will bring you there and straight back, Stands-in-Shadow.”
His forthright nature did the trick, inspiring trust. But within five minutes, they realized their plan was a bust. Their powers didn’t work in this past world.
“How is it we don’t have our gifts here?” Wilder battled the tidal wave of panic threatening to wash over him. In the only other instance he had been without his abilities, tragedy struck.
“I’ve never gone beyond the boundaries of my natural life,” Castor replied. “Perhaps it has something to do with not existing yet?”
“Christ, we’re screwed.”
“What would your cousin Alastair say in the face of your pessimism, my dear Wilder?”
Although his pale eyes didn’t contain their standard amused light, Castor didn’t appear to be as deflated as him. Still, a hint of displeasure tugged his mouth down, so it wasn’t only Wilder’s bout of pessimism.
“He’d make some ridiculous quip about courage and the challenge being fun, I’m sure,” Wilder replied dryly.
“Exactly. Twelve miles isn’t a particularly long trek. I’ve suffered worse.”
“In the desert, during the middle of the day, with no water?”
“Are you trying to annoy me, son?”
“You will use my horse,” Stands-in-Shadow interrupted. “I will run beside you.”
“To save your horse the burden, I can run for part of the journey,” Castor stated. “I jog at least five miles every morning.”
Wilder didn’t volunteer for cross-country. He hadn’t done anything particularly athletic in two years and would likely die from his lack of fitness.
“Show-offs,” Wilder muttered. The sooner he got to Abbie, the better. “Let’s go.”
“Not now,” the Native man said. “We wait until the sun is lower in the sky. Even the Diné take care when the desert burns hottest.”
It went against the grain for Wilder to wait, but this was not a time or place he was familiar with, and he had to trust the Guide-Seer had their best interests at heart.
“Will you tell us what you know of Abbie, er, Mary?”
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