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the eye. “I believe that a dragon is not a constant until he has been called by the realm walker. Therefore the owl was not a constant unless called. And why would Bermagot call an owl when he already had a dragon?”
    Bridger did not respond. A press of cold air, a stillness, and then a swoosh.
    Cantor turned. The dragon and cat were gone, but so was the horse.
    He hissed through his teeth. “Bridger? Bridger? Where are you?”
    “Why are you whispering?”
    Cantor took a moment to recognize Eddie, standing beside the bushes with his face and hands clean, a fresh set of clothes, and no thumb in his mouth.
    “Because we didn’t want to wrangle at the top of our voices. Shouting matches are not proper.”
    The boy looked around. “We?”
    “The warhorse and I.”
    “Where is he?”
    “He’s not mine, so he went away.” Cantor hoped he had gone for good.
    “You were shouting with a horse?”
    “Not literally; it’s a manner of speech. I shouted. The horse made various horsey noises.”
    Eddie scanned the area once more, shrugged, and slowly shook his head back and forth.
    Cantor took the same serious study of his surroundings. Where was Bridger? Where was the cat? He spotted the gold-tipped ears. Ah, in the tree, the tree that had not been a part of the windbreak minutes ago. “Mama says to come.” Eddietrotted down the lane without checking to see if the guest followed.
    Cantor’s stomach gurgled as he strolled behind the boy. For one, Ahma and Odem had drilled into him that he and the rest of the walkers were gentlemen who did not fail to show up after accepting an invitation. Two, realm walkers tried to integrate with the local populace to gain insight into the current conditions of the realm. And three, he didn’t want to miss a meal.
    His only concern was this bright-eyed boy and his family might be too curious. Though he could handle any prying questions. And Bridger might get impatient and go away. That would be a plus. The horse dragon was sure to be a nuisance.
    Eddie stopped and turned. “Horses can’t talk. Did you know dragons can talk? It was in a book. Ella read it to me.”
    The realm walker gave his young companion a searching glance. “I haven’t seen many dragons. You?”
    “Not even one.”
    Cantor disguised his relief and sounded legitimately sympathetic. “That’s sad.”
    Eddie stuck his hands into his pockets and skipped a couple of steps before walking. “If Bridger was a dragon instead of a warhorse, would you let me ride him?”
    “You think riding a dragon would be safer than riding a warhorse?”
    Eddie turned to walk backward as he grinned at Cantor. “No. That’s why I want to try.”

FINE AND DANDY MEAL
    A long, broad table crowded one side of a wraparound porch. Assorted benches and old wooden chairs surrounded it. The smells coming through the open windows made Cantor’s mouth water.
    An older girl with a kerchief over her long blonde hair and an apron over her pink flowered dress pushed through the screen door with large bowls of food. Cantor bounded up the plank steps to take them from her.
    She looked startled, then gave up her burden with a smile. “My name’s Tifra Means. I’m the eldest daughter.”
    With his hands full, he could only nod a formal greeting. “Cantor D’Ahma, at your service.”
    She laughed and slipped back through the door.
    Cantor put the bowls down and lifted the cloths covering them to peek at the contents. Mashed potatoes and creamed corn. He licked his lips, anticipating a meal as grand as thecommunity suppers down at the village near his home. He hadn’t often visited the village, a result of Ahma’s rules for untrained realm walkers. His favorite part of venturing into civilization was the food. Ahma’s cooking was tasty but repetitive. He’d probably eaten more corn and mushroom swatch than any raccoon on the plane.
    He glanced around, wondering where the pesky Bridger had settled. The warhorse sat in the shade of the