A Little Nemean Lion on the Side
“There you are.”
I snatch the giant flame-colored feather from the field of red and orange tulips next to the old Dutch windmill. Ursula got tricky with this last one, thinking it would blend in with all the flowers.
I shove the feather into my cargo pocket as I pull out my phone and dial home.
Ursula answers on the first ring. “That was fast.”
“Always am.”
She snorts and says, “Do not be overconfident.”
I shrug. I have every reason to be confident. It’s been a long time since Ursula stumped me on one of her tracking tests. Not since she left hydra scales on the underside of the Bay Bridge.
“I’ll be home in ten.” I start for the path. “Just have to hoof it back to Moira.”
The phone clicks dead as I reach the paved sidewalk. I’ve only taken two step
