Loid hurries Anya through the afternoon, barely letting her catch a breath down the street. If she 's at all encumbered by the pace at which he whisks her away from school and through the grocery store, though, she mentions nothing of it, and he tries to make it up to her by letting her throw whatever she wants into their pile of groceries.

By the time they 're home, the sky has dipped into a waxy blue. Loid jams the key into the door, only to freeze when it 's open. Anya, too, comes to a full stop. Bond pads up to her, muzzle drooping.

'Mama came home, ' she says. 'But Bond doesn 't know when. Uncle dropped him off after. '

Loid nods. He can smell florals, like a garden has wandered through, but it 's fading. Another surge of urgency floods through him, compounding with his existing anxiety to tap sharply against his skull. 'Go and start your homework. I 'll have dinner ready in an hour. '