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.”“Sounds like a better way of tracking than looking for prints,” returned Declan, “but I can’t interpret the moon, let alone fathom that she takes such an interest in men that she’d glance down on our lives.”“But what happened then?” said Jute.“Did you find the sceadu?”The hawk might have said more, but he did not, for at that moment there came a long, drawn-out howl from somewhere far behind them.It came from far away, but the sound was clear in the cold night sky.“A dog,” said the ghost.“A bloodhound.No doubt already on our trail.It was a valiant effort, but now we’re all going to die.Oh well.”“That’s not a dog,” said the hawk.“I’ve heard that sound before.” Jute tried to swallow but his mouth had gone dry.“Back in Hearne.She called them shadowhounds.I didn’t see them, but I remember the sound of their howl.”“Shadowhound, aye,” muttered the hawk.“Hounds, shadowhounds, whatever you call them, I don’t care,” said Declan.“Any beast can be killed.”“Not these.Your sword wouldn’t suffice.Hiding your trail within a city is the best option.Other than that, the only way to defeat such a beast is with magic, and none of us are skilled in such arts.”“They don’t fly, do they?” said Jute, thinking back to that dreadful and wonderful night in Hearne.It seemed long ago now.“You can fly.I can fly!”“Thank you very much,” said Declan.“That would leave me to sort things out by myself.”“I wouldn’t leave your side,” said the ghost.“Yours will be a brave death, no doubt, and I shall be honored to witness it.”“Never fear.” The hawk bobbed his head.“Flying might be an option if the boy didn’t always fall flat on his face the moment his feet leave the ground.He wouldn’t get far that way.No.We must think of another way to lose the beast.”But they could not think of a way, no matter how much they discussed the problem as they hurried along.They did not hear the howl again, but no one doubted for a moment what followed on their path.They came to the edge of a valley that yawned open before them.The moonlight shone on cliffs sheathed in ice, frozen in folds and draperies and waterfalls halted by winter’s hand in their downward plunge but still falling away to the depths below.“That’s not a descent I’d like to make,” said Declan.“Even in daylight with ropes and axe.We’ll have to skirt it west until we find a better spot, or even further to where the trader’s road must surely find its way through.” He shook his head.“If we had wings, master hawk, this would be no problem.”“If we threw Jute over the side,” said the hawk, “he’d learn to fly fast enough, but I can’t vouch for you.Men aren’t made to fly and there’s only trouble if they try.”“No one’s throwing me over the side,” said Jute.They hiked along the top of the cliffs in growing dismay, for there seemed no end to them.The ground was treacherous with ice, and they kept a distance from the edge of the cliffs for fear of slipping and plunging over.Pine trees grew there in ever-increasing frequency until they found themselves walking through a forest.The trees were heavy with snow and the drifts were deep.The moon shone down in shreds and tatters, wherever it could find a way through the tree branches.“Snow down my neck, in my boots, in my socks,” said Jute.“Winter was never so cold in Hearne.Why would anyone want to live in this duchy? I suppose I wouldn’t mind being a farmer.He had a nice family, didn’t he? Too many girls, though.”“Shh.” Declan stopped and turned, his face intent.“Thank you,” said the ghost.“I can’t stand people who babble.You’re a babbler, did you know that, Jute? I tell you for your own good.A babbler is someone who chatters on about irrelevancies.Going into hideously extensive detail on topics that I haven’t the slightest interest in.You remind me of a fellow named Yoric who, fortunately for the rest of us, was boiled into pudding by a—”“I’m not a babbler.Why, if anyone’s a babbler it’s—”“Hush.Both of you.”Jute and the ghost fell silent, for they saw the tension on Declan’s face.He tilted his head this way and that, eyes shut, as if he might by such slight positioning hear more of what the wind had to say.“Something’s coming,” said the hawk.Before they could do anything, whether that would have been climbing the nearest tree or drawing a weapon, a quiet scuffling sound came from the bushes nearby.“It’s just a couple of rabbits,” said Jute, his voice shaky with relief.There were two of them.Two small rabbits with fur so white they were almost invisible against the snow.Their ears were the only part of them that moved, twitching back and forth, for the rabbits sat motionless in the snow and stared at the travelers.They had red eyes.“Is it just me,” said the ghost, “or has anyone else noticed these things are only looking at Jute?”There was an uncomfortable silence after this, during which everyone considered what the ghost had said.He was right.The rabbits were staring at Jute.“Rabbits are harmless, aren’t they?” said Jute.“You don’t think they know we’ve eaten a lot of their relatives, do they?”“Speak for yourself,” said the ghost.“I’m sure I never ate a rabbit in my life.”One of the rabbits yawned, revealing an unusually large mouth filled with unusually sharp-looking teeth.It shut its mouth with a snap.“I think,” said Declan quietly, “that we had better—”It was then that it happened.The rabbits grew and stretched and elongated until what stood before them were no longer rabbits but two enormous dogs.Shadowhounds.“Jute! Run!”Jute was already running.Declan’s sword sang through the air, and the hawk flung himself forward, slashing with beak and claw.The hounds lunged forward to meet them
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