"All this fuss," she says, nudging him back. "Let's find Edgar and then we can worry about stupid things like my hand."

She fishes in her pocket for the ball of twine, and whistles. A moment and a puff of dust later, Woola is standing before them, two hundred yards from where he'd been sleeping beside the forge.

"Woola. Do you remember Edgar?"

The calot grumbles a little, looking puzzled. He glances at Curtis and back at Dejah.

"Yes, that's right. Curtis's friend. Here, you can smell him here." She offers the calot the ball of twine. He sniffs it once, twice, and then his face splits in a calot grin. Yes, he remembers that smell.

"Find him, Woola. Find him now." Dejah's voice drops low, and the command is unmistakable.

Woola's face takes on a look of grim determination, and he lifts his nose to the breeze. He takes a few steps towards the bar. Nope. A few steps towards the stables. Nope, not there either. When he turns his head to the lake, his entire demeanor sharpens. Before either one of them can speak, he disappears in another puff of dust.

"This shouldn't take long at all," Dejah says, trying her best to sound hopeful.