Kinked (Elder Races, #6)(43)

“Yes, I already know that,” she said impatiently. “I’ll be back in a few.”

She shifted, crouched and—what was he smiling about? Was he smiling at her? Nah, that couldn’t be right. He scowled at her, he didn’t smile. After a blinking pause, she sprang into the air.

Rolling foothills hugged the ridge they followed, and the landscape looked different with the light covering of snow. She navigated by the landmarks that she had marked mentally the day before, and wasn’t fooled by a little dusting of snow.

Since they were close to the passageway, she didn’t bother to climb too high in altitude. She studied the landscape carefully, her sharp gaze noting minute details.

One thing about a snowfall was that it made tracking footsteps and finding recently used trails paint-by-numbers easy.

There were no footsteps anywhere, no trails. No subtle hint of wood smoke in the sharp, clear air. No flash of movement from anything but the occasional glimpse of spooked wildlife that sensed the nearness of a dangerous predator and bolted to hide.

Convinced, she wheeled around and headed back to Quentin. From a distance, his Elven heritage seemed pronounced in the leggy, graceful build of his body. It was only as she grew closer that the anomalies of his mixed heritage, such as his broader shoulders and more muscled torso, became clear.

He was keeping an eye out for her and paused as she descended. She landed in front of him, and when she saw the question in his eyes, she shook her head. “They’re not there,” she told him levelly. “I’m sure of it.”

He took a deep breath and rubbed his face as he thought. He hadn’t taken the time to shave that morning, and the light golden bristles were more pronounced on his lean cheeks and jaw. They had felt soft and tickling at the back of her neck. A shiver ran down her spine as she remembered, along with another pulse of arousal.

He met her gaze. The blue of his eyes was startlingly sharp against the wintery background. “I have a favor to ask of you,” he said abruptly. “It just occurred to me that they might have had some reason to travel to the other passageway. I can’t think what could have happened to make them do that, but I think we should know before we actually cross over to Numenlaur and try to look for them. Will you fly out there and scout for them while I take a look around here?”

She nodded. “Makes sense. If we’re thorough now, we won’t have to double back on ourselves later. See you soon.”

She launched again and this time she did climb high. The day was warming up, and the rising temperatures were melting the snow, which covered the vista in a haze that sparkled slightly where the sunshine hit it directly. The scene was stunning, and one part of her gloried in the landscape that was unbroken by any signs of habitation.

However, most of her attention was focused on the hunt. She flew hard, due south, and after a couple of miles’ distance, the magic of the first passageway stopped overwhelming her senses so that she began to feel the first faint tickle from the second one.

Adjusting her direction accordingly, she flew straight for it, studying the land below as she went. Sure, Elves blended with their surrounding and walked lightly on the land, yadda yadda yadda, and if they were really trying to hide, she might find the hunt more challenging. But as Quentin had already pointed out, this party didn’t know they were coming and had no reason to hide anyway.

At least, no reason that she could figure out.

Her normal flight speed was almost twice that of an eagle’s. She could fly up to a hundred miles an hour when she really pushed it, and this time she pushed it. She reached the second passageway in short order and passed around it several times, moving in circles of increasing size with each pass.

Where were those pesky Elves?

Nowhere that she could see.

Finally she shook her head and shot north, flying hard.

Quentin was easy to locate. He wasn’t trying to hide either. He had stashed the packs somewhere, changed into the black panther and loped along the edges of a very large meadow that lay a quarter of a mile or so in front of the Numenlaur passageway. He poured over the land, sleek and rippling with fluid muscles moving under the shining black coat. She plummeted to wheel around his head.

The panther glanced up at her. Quentin said in her head, Find anything?

She answered aloud. “No.”

The panther changed direction and headed back toward the Numenlaur passageway. I’ve covered all quarters of the surrounding area. The land carries no scent of them.

She wasn’t surprised. They hadn’t been in the area recently, and the melting snow would have washed away any scent that might have lingered.

When he stopped and changed near a large pine, she landed and changed too. She watched as he ducked under the pine’s low-hanging branches. He emerged a moment later with his jacket and the packs. He handed her pack to her, and she shrugged it on, while he shouldered his as well.

His face was hard, the planes and angles set, but she thought she was beginning to read him pretty well, and she knew his worry had spiked.

“Did you see anything up close that seemed unusual in any way?” she asked.

“No. No signs of any damage, no dissipating magic, nothing.” His voice was flat. “Did you?”

“Everything looked normal.”

“Okay,” he said. “Ready?”

She nodded. They had already discussed it all. There was nothing left to say.