TWENTY-TWO
MODI
“Why did it take you two days to get here when the feather duster led you?” I grumbled as Bjarni turned off the road and walked toward the thick woods. “Even with a human in tow, it has been, what, sixteen hours? I presume your coward of a sire is hiding somewhere in the woods?”
Said human huffed behind me, but the irritation I felt in our bond at my words remained unvoiced. She was too exhausted from our sixteen-hour walk to argue. Not a terrible quality in a woman, in my opinion.
“His name was Arni,” Bjarni said, his voice acrid. “I suspect Loki wanted to throw off any pursuers—he had us take the scenic route.”
“Arni? Who names a raven Eagle?” I muttered.
“Was?” Annabel asked, her voice turning soft. She pushed forward a couple of steps, placing a hand on Bjarni’s a
