Page 66 of Search for the Lost

Dietrich frowned. “We should be. Sometimes it… moves.”

Aspin grunted at this unwelcome news. He’d been mostly quiet since the incident with their new pets. “What do you mean, it moves?”

Their guide chuckled. “It’s one of those weird cabins with the chicken legs. Every now and then, it gets tired of where it’s sitting, squawks a bit, picks itself up, and moves somewhere else.”

“Then how do we know where it’s going to be?” Aspin’s growl turned into a menacing snarl.

Crispin put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Leave him be. It’s not his fault. Mother could have chosen a non-ambulatory residence.” He turned his attention to Dietrich. “Still it’s a fair question. How are we going to find it, if it’s moving about all the time?”

“It’s not all the time.” Dietrich looked tired, his handsome visage marred by wrinkles of weariness. “It has a couple of preferred places. If it’s not in one, we’ll try the other.”

Which was not an especially encouraging answer.

Crispin was about to say so when Minkis, who had been resting wrapped around his neck, suddenly burst into activity. “Big bird, big bird!” He raced down Crispin’s shoulder, and bounced onto one of the constantly questing vines with a burst of energy that made Crispin exhausted just watching it. Up, up, up through the thick understory, and then he climbed a tree branch—weaving between huge, velvety, blue-green leaves—up toward the sky. All the while chanting “big bird, big bird, big bird!”

Aspin turned his scowl toward the patch of sky. “What the hell is he on about?”

Crispin followed his brother’s gaze just in time to see a vast dark shadow sweep over them, then another. Then someone—or something—was screaming.

Aspin pointed at the sky. “There!”

A black dot rapidly resolved itself into a someone, flailing wildly as they plummeted toward the startled party.

They fell into Aspin’s arms, knocking Crispin’s sturdy brother backward onto the ground with a heavy thud.

The vines all around them surged forward, as if sensing weakness.

Crispin reached into his dwindling reserves of energy and touched the green stems one by one in rapid-fire order, forcing them—in somewhat sullen obedience—into an arch.

He and Leo knelt next to the fallen pair, with Dietrich staring over their shoulders, as Minkis descended through the forest canopy with an agility gifted only to squirrels. He landed once more on Crispin’s shoulder. “Small faun.”

Dietrich’s hand touched Crispin’s opposite shoulder. “It is indeed a faun.”

“You caught me!” the new arrival said somewhat breathlessly, looking up at his savior.

Crispin blinked. “Cypher?” He couldn’t believe his eyes. And where’s the Acorn?

His former assistant looked alarmed, his eyes narrowing as he took in Crispin, Leo, and their guide all staring down at him, arms crossed. There was something calculating in that look, or at least it seemed so to Crispin. Then the expression was gone, replaced by anguish. “Oh Crispin, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He turned and buried his face in Aspin’s vine-stained shirt.

Aspin looked up at his brother, uncertain.

Crispin wasn’t sure what to say. Anger at Cypher’s betrayal and relief at seeing his old assistant alive warred within his head.

Thankfully, Leo took over. He put his hand on Cypher’s shoulder, and squeezed it gently. “Are you all right? That was quite a fall. I fell from a moving train once, just when we were about to go over a huge gully in Northern California⁠—”

Cypher turned to stare at him. “Yes, I’m fine.” His tone was curt.

Crispin cleared his throat.

Cypher glanced at him, and hastily added, “Thank you for asking.” It sounded a bit begrudging, but it was something. “How are you, Crispin?”

He could see it now, although he hadn’t noticed it before. The hunger in the way Cypher looked at him.

He didn’t trust the faun, not after what he’d done, but maybe he could use Cypher’s obvious attraction to his advantage, like he had with Dietrich. Though Leo wasn’t going to like it.

How lucky am I to be surrounded by three different guys, who all want to be with me? He snorted softly. Somehow he didn’t feel lucky. Not at all. He put a hand on Cypher’s furry shoulder. “Why don’t you tell us what happened? How did you end up on that big bird? And what happened to the Great Acorn?”

“Big bird,” Minkis repeated, looking up at the sky longingly.