But I don’t fly. I only burn.
Baldur cultivated a vineyard and kept bees. His small horse herd grazed in the pasture at the bottom of the ridge. He also raised sheep and goats. And dogs. His two Great Danes, Geri and Freki, must have caught my scent or heard the opening door. They bounded around the corner of the house and ran up to me, tongues lolling, jowls flapping, drool dripping.
As they crowded around me, pressing their huge, heavy bodies against my thighs, I rubbed their velvet ears and crooned at them. “Good boys… Who’s a bunch of good boys?” They panted and pushed each other aside, both eager for my attention. “Want a muffin? Who wants a muffin?”
I raised Nina’s baking atrocity and waggled it as if it were an enticing treat. Maybe to them it was. Both dogs’ rear ends plopped down. They sat up, chests out, ears perked, tails whapping a steady beat against the patio’s stone flooring. I broke the muffin in half and tossed it to them. Geri and Freki lunged, caught their treats, and swallowed the muffin halves in a single gulp. They both sat again and stared at me, doe eyed and pleading.
I brushed my hands together and showed them my palms, fingers splayed. “That’s all I have. If you want more, you’ll have to talk to Nina.”
Freki, the spotted harlequin to my left, cocked his head as if considering.
Geri, the blue with the silvery coat, woofed, an imploring sound resounding from deep within his chest.
“That’s all.” I waved my hands.
Freki huffed, his jowls billowing. He stood and trotted away. Geri eyed me once more before he turned and followed his buddy. I stepped into the yard behind them, but they turned to adventure somewhere down the hillside. I set a path straight across the yard toward the barn.
The smell of livestock greeted me when I stepped through the door: a mixture of feed, fur, manure, tangy hay, and the sharp astringency of cedar chips. Baldur, or one of his part-time workers, kept the barn pristine and orderly. The goats and sheep bleated in a pen outside, alert to movement on the inside. They probably expected me to come feed them something.
“Baldur?” I said, although I expected no reply. “Thorin?”
The barn was obviously empty. I turned on my heel, intending to go out, but a ruffle of movement called my attention to the rafters. A shadowy shape peered at me from a beam above my head. The silhouette leapt from the rafter and spread wider. I squealed, stepped back, and reached for my fire.
A ray of sunlight illuminated the figure, revealing a familiar shape: a raven. The shadow expanded again, growing into something too big for a bird. The transforming figure sailed toward the floor, and as it touched down, the silhouette settled into its final form: a man, a rather familiar one, and he was very, very naked.
“Hugh?” I backed away again as my heart tapped a fast jig, and my pulse thudded against my ear drums. What is this?
He doffed an imaginary cap and bowed. “At your service.”
Until that moment, I had never noticed how much Hugh’s features resembled a bird’s—black hair cut in a shag that looked like feathers in certain light, a beaky nose, and glittering black eyes. I trained my eyes on his face, not daring to look lower than his clavicle.
Another squawk echoed in the rafters. Something moved and caught the light: another raven. I looked at Hugh, raised a pointer finger, and gestured at the darkness. “Joe?”
Hugh cocked a smug grin. “He prefers Munin.”
“Kind of shy, isn’t he?”
He nodded. “He’s a very good listener, though.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Straight to the point, eh?”
“You’d rather play games?”
“Well...” He looked down at his feet and shrugged. “I am a raven.”
“I thought you were an aggressively flirtatious outdoor guide.”
He met my stare and grinned again. “I’m multidimensional. Who likes a shallow guy?”
“Baldur thought his runes could keep you out.”
“He’s not entirely wrong. We can cross his wards physically, but your thoughts and memories are well protected. Don’t worry.”
I harrumphed and folded my arms across my chest. “Then I’ll ask you again. What are you doing here? Is Val with you?”
Hugh waved me off. “He’s otherwise occupied.”
“He let Baldur follow him in Vegas, didn’t he? He wanted us to know where he was. What does he want?”
He flapped his hands again, plainly the gesture of an anxious bird. “Solina. Stop. That’s not why I came.”
I uncrossed my arms, balled my fists, and stepped toward him. “Okay, so why are you here?”
“To make a proposition.”
Proposition? I cocked my head and arched an eyebrow.
Hugh grinned again. “Speechless? You?”
“What do you know about me?”
“You forget who I am. What I am.”
I pursed my lips and huffed. “Yes, yes... You know everything.”
“I am Thought. My brother is Memory.”
