Or maybe they had felt no prickles about one another because none of them had had a real future.

Once Merri Lee left, Meg felt a moment’s relief. No prickles, no buzzing. She walked into the sorting room, not sure what she could find to do, especially if she ended up stuck there for a few hours.

She looked at the five CDs she’d been playing that week, but none of that music appealed to her right now. No mail, no packages, no deliveries bringing anything new today.

She opened the drawer that held the prophecy cards.

The room did one slow spin.

Meg slammed the drawer shut and held on to the counter. She gritted her teeth, craving the silver razor as her skin buzzed and crawled.

She was alone but she was still too close to too many strangers. The humans would remain within the Courtyard’s business district. She had to get away from it—and them.

She ran out the back door, then crossed the paved area between her office and the garages that held a couple of BOWs.

Had to get away before someone saw her and tried to argue.

Once she was on the road that would take her back to the Green Complex, she sighed with relief and trepidation. There would be such snarling when Simon found out she had bolted.

He wouldn’t be able to snarl at her for hours and hours since he had to protect the Courtyard. Maybe by the time the storm ended, he would be too tired to snarl.

Maybe pigs would learn to fly.

Entertained by the image of piglets with wings, she almost relaxed her death grip on the steering wheel, when a gust of wind lifted the passenger-side wheels off the road for one heart-hammering moment.

Meg looked around. Straight ahead would take her to the Green Complex—where she would be totally alone because everyone who lived there would be in the Market Square or with their own gards.

If she went to her apartment, her friends would fight against the storm to reach her. If something happened to her or Simon because of her need for solitude, what would happen to Sam?

“Sam,” she whispered. She needed a kind of quiet but not necessarily isolation.

Then she couldn’t see a thing. She rolled down a window, hoping it wasn’t her vision that had gone wacky. She stuck her head out, and her fuzz of hair was playfully lipped. Pulling back, she stared at the gray muzzle of the steed. “Fog?”

“Meg?” Air leaned close to Fog’s neck. “You shouldn’t be outside now.”

“I couldn’t stay with all those other humans. They’re nice people, but . . . my skin. Too many prophecies.” Behind Air, she could see tree branches bending, almost breaking, but around the BOW there was no wind. “I was hoping Jester would let me stay with him at the Pony Barn.”

Air studied her. “You want to stay with our ponies?”

“Yes.”

The Elemental smiled. “Follow us.”

Meg turned on the BOW’s lights and followed in Fog’s wake. That was easy enough to do since the fog made by the steed swirled around her, but she had no trouble seeing him.

She pulled up at the Pony Barn, thankful that Air was still sheltering her from the wind. One of the barn doors opened. Jester ran out and helped her out of the BOW. Then they both yelped as the first fat raindrops changed to hail.

“Do you have a change of clothes in there?” Jester asked.

“No.” She hadn’t thought about that.

“Then get inside before you get soaked.” He gave her a push toward the barn door.

Hearing a familiar arroo, she turned toward the road instead. “Sam?”

Sam and Skippy ran toward her.

“Well, chew my tail and spit out the fur,” Jester snapped. “Get inside, all of you.”

“The BOW,” Meg said, finally realizing the little vehicle could be seriously damaged.

“I’ll deal with it. And the Wolfgard,” Jester muttered as he got in the BOW.

“Get inside, Meg,” Air said. “What is coming does not like humans. But you’ll be safe with our ponies.”

“Thank you. Come on, Sam. Come on, Skippy. Let’s get inside.”

She rushed into the barn, the two Wolves right behind her.

Jester returned a minute later and scowled at her. “I know you’re human, but I would swear you have some Coyote blood. Only one of my kind could cause this much trouble so easily.”

Before she could apologize or explain, Jester was conferring with Mist and fetching a harness that had baskets with flaps that kept mail dry in bad weather. As soon as the pony was fitted out, he trotted off, heading toward the Market Square.

“That stall has fresh straw,” Jester said. “We can all curl up there and keep an eye on things.”

“Okay. Jester . . .”

The Coyote waved off her apology before she could say it. He glanced at Sam and Skippy, then at her. “Good thing Simon is going to be busy most of the day. I don’t imagine Blair will be able to get here either for at least a few hours.”

Meg spread blankets over the straw, then sat down with Sam while Skippy explored the Pony Barn.

“Did you run away too?” she asked Sam.

Sam looked up at her. “Arroo.”

She sighed. “We’re going to be in soooo much trouble.”

“Roo.”

As she put an arm around Sam, she realized all the prickles and buzzes beneath her skin had stopped.

For now, at least, everyone around her was where they were supposed to be.

• • •

“Stay, Daddy. Please stay.”