Septimus, easily flattered, leapt from Curtis’s shoulder to the ground. “Bye, Prue,” he said. She bowed slightly and watched as the rat scampered into the Mansion. The owl and the bandit followed, disappearing behind the French doors.
Curtis looked at Prue, his face falling. “Really?” he asked. “That soon?”
“Yep,” she said. “I’ve got to get Mac back. To be honest, I’ve been missing my bed, my friends. I’m even missing my parents, if you can believe that. It’ll be nice to be back home.”
A wind picked up and coursed through the manicured estate of the Mansion, sending a fountain of leaves whirling about the tidy gardens below them.
“You sure you don’t want to come with?” Prue asked.
Curtis nodded. “Yeah,” he replied. “There’s lots of work to do here. A whole government to rebuild. Since I spent that time with the coyote army, they’re saying I might be a lot of help when the coyote ambassadors arrive.” He paused and looked out over the horizon of trees. “Plus, I made an oath, Prue. I’m a bandit now. A real Wildwood bandit. I just can’t go back on that. That moment on the Long Road, before you came up, I had the chance to leave. But I’m needed here, Prue. I belong here.”
A silence fell over the two friends. The baby in Prue’s arms filled the quiet with a string of babbling gurgles. Prue watched her friend Curtis, wondering if she looked as changed as he did.
“Okay,” said Prue, finally, “I understand.” She squinted up at the sky, the thin gray of the clouds beginning to glow as the morning sun continued on its upward arc. “Walk me to my bike?” she asked.
“Of course,” said Curtis.
They made their way through the long, looming halls of the Mansion, down the wide curve of the grand staircase above the foyer and out through the front door to the grounds. They walked in silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Leaning against the stone balustrade of the Mansion’s veranda was Prue’s bike, and Curtis helped her make a little bed of blankets in the wagon for Mac to ride in. A carved wooden horse, given to Mac as a gift, lay where they’d left it on the floor of the red wagon, and Mac was overjoyed to be reunited with the toy.
“Come on,” said Curtis, “I’ll walk you as far as the start of the Long Road.”
“So what are you going to do now?” asked Prue as they made their way lazily along the serpentine drive of the Mansion.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Once this is through, I guess the rest of us bandits, those who haven’t already returned, will head back to the camp. There’s a lot of work to do; we lost a bunch of bandits in that war. Gonna have to get used to sleeping under the stars, that’s for sure.”
“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” said Prue.
Standing in the middle of the driveway, just beyond the turnout in front of the Mansion doors, was a single brilliantly colored caravan wagon. A white rabbit was lying on his back underneath the axle of the wagon’s front wheel, hammering at the assembly with a crescent wrench. A woman in a sackcloth robe stood over him, muttering instructions.
“Iphigenia!” shouted Prue as they came closer.
The woman turned and waved. Her face wore a look of bemused frustration.
“You’re leaving?” asked Curtis. “Aren’t you needed in the meetings?”
Iphigenia dismissively waved her hand in the air. “Bah,” she said. “Who needs an old bag like me? I have no stomach for prolonged argument. There are folks younger than I who can uphold our interests. However, I’m not going anywhere till this blasted axle is fixed.” She eyed Prue. “I suppose you’re on your way, yes, half-breed?”
“Yep,” she said. “Going home. What about you? You heading back to North Wood?”
“Yes,” replied the Elder Mystic, “I’ll be making my way there eventually. The Council Tree will need attending to. I imagine it will have a lot to say about our little adventures.” She set her hands at her hips and lifted her chin, as if taking in the air. “I think I might take my time heading home, though,” she said. “While it was not under the best of circumstances, I did so enjoy seeing the Ancients’ Grove again. I’d not been there for many years. There are truly so many beautiful things to see in the Wood—the great falls at the headwaters of Rocking Chair Creek, the outlook from the top of Cathedral Peak. The very kind Crown Prince has invited me to stay with the Avians for a time, a personal guest of the owl. I think I’d like that very much. Then—who knows—perhaps I’ll find my way to the Ossuary Tree, visit the tombs of my fallen predecessors, those ancient Mystics who managed the journey before me. And then? A long, steaming hot bath and a cup of tea in the comfort of my own little home. That’ll be enough adventuring for me.”
“Best of luck,” Prue said. “That sounds like a wonderful journey.”
“Good-bye, Prue,” said Iphigenia, holding out her arms.
Prue set the kickstand of her bike and walked into the Elder Mystic’s embrace. Her wiry gray hair caressed Prue’s cheek and was bathed in the rich scent of lavender. “I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again,” Prue said, choking back her tears.
The Mystic patted Prue’s back. “You will,” she said. “You will.”
Leaving the caravan wagon behind, Prue and Curtis continued on their way. When they arrived at the junction of the Mansion’s drive and the wide expanse of the Long Road, Curtis turned and extended his hand.
“Okay, then,” he said. “Let’s not make this all blubbery and emotional. Good-bye, Prue.”
Prue stuck out her lower lip in mock seriousness. “Good-bye, Curtis. Coyote soldier, bandit, revolutionary.”
They shook hands firmly.
Curtis’s chin began to quiver. Prue marked this by saying, “Oh, come on.” She reached out her arms.