Owl shook her head. "It's the same as before. She goes out on her own and won't tell anyone what she is doing." She paused, and one hand rested lightly on Hawk's wrist. "I think you'd better go after her this time. I think we have to find out what she is doing."
He almost said no. He almost said that he already had something he had to do and shouldn't be wasting his time chasing after an irresponsible child who couldn't be trusted to do what she had been told to do and who lied on top of it. But he recognized a voice he didn't care for in that kind of thinking, a voice that spoke out of frustration and impatience and not out of caring. Owl was clearly worried about River, and he knew that Owl did not worry easily.
He nodded. "All right, I'll find her."
He glanced around the room, rethinking his earlier plans. He would have to take Cheney if he hoped to track River. That meant he would have to leave Owl and the little ones with someone else and send someone besides himself to the meeting with Tiger.
He settled on Bear to stand watch in the underground. He could rely on Bear to keep everyone safe—Bear, so steady and unflappable, never acting out of haste or panic. He wished he had a dozen Bears in his family, but families don't work like that.
That meant Panther would have to take the pleneten to Tiger. There was no one else old enough or smart enough to send out alone to a meeting like this. It was chancy, sending Panther. He despised the Cats and Tiger, in particular. The source of his dislike was not entirely clear to Hawk, but it didn't make it any less potent or potentially volatile.
He walked over to Panther, telling himself to keep calm. "There's been a change of plans. You're going to take the pleneten to Tiger without me."
Panther didn't exactly glare at him, but his displeasure was clearly reflected on his dark features. "Why do I got to do this, Bird‑Man? Why not someone else?"
"Don't you think you can handle it?" Hawk pressed.
Now Panther did glare. "I can handle anything, and I can do it better than the rest. You know that."
Hawk nodded. "I do know it. That's why you have to be in charge. I can depend on you to be ready for whatever happens. Take Chalk and Fixit with you.
For a show of strength."
"You think those pussycats would try something with me?" Panther sneered.
"Like to see them try. Like to see them even think about it. Anyway, I don't need Fixit and Chalk. I can do it alone."
"You know the rules. No one goes out alone to a meeting. If you don't want Chalk and Fixit, take Sparrow."
"Huh! Don't want nothin' to do with Sparrow. Lemme take Bear. At least he takes up some space."
Hawk shook his head. "Bear has to stay here and look out for the others. I need Cheney with me."
"For what? What you doin' that's so important, taking Cheney away now?"
"I'll tell you later. Just get the pleneten to Tiger. I know you don't like him, but we made an agreement and we stick to our agreements. We keep our word."
"I know that. But I don't have to like it."
Hawk nodded. "Just get it done. Take Chalk and Fixit with you. The pleneten's wrapped in brown paper in the cold storage."
Panther shook his head and made a snorting noise. "Frickin' Cats."
Hawk moved over to the storage locker, selected a prod, pocketed two of the viper–pricks, and slipped on his heavy–weather jacket. Owl wheeled over to where he was standing and watched him get ready.
"What do I do when I find her?" he asked quietly.
"You find out what's wrong, you try to help her make it right, and then you bring her home."
He looked at her wise, cheerful face and caring eyes. Her smile told him that she was only reaffirming what he already knew. She gave him such confidence just by her presence that it was impossible for him to measure its importance.
She always knew what needed doing and how it could be done. Once, he had thought of her as crippled and helpless. He didn't think of her like that anymore. He thought of her as the strongest among them. Of all of them, she was the most indispensable, the most necessary to their survival.
"I won't be long," he promised.
"Be as long as you need to be," she told him. "River needs to feel safe again. I don't think she feels that way now."
She was saying that River needed to know that she could tell them anything, that she didn't need to hide whatever it was she was doing. Hawk wasn't sure Owl was right, but he had sense enough to keep quiet and hope she was.
He called to Cheney and went out the door and up the stairs to the streets. The day was clear and bright, the sky a blue dome empty of all but the wispiest of clouds. He glanced up at it, squinting despite himself, the brightness unexpected and somehow out of place. The world shouldn't look so clear when life felt so cloudy.
A sudden gust of wind brought him back to reality. The air was chilly and biting and sharp with cold. He hunched down into his jacket and called Cheney over to him. Taking out an old T-shirt that belonged to River, he let the big dog sniff it, and then told him to track. Cheney never hesitated. He wheeled away and started down the street, big head swinging from side to side, muzzle lowered in concentration. Hawk followed, eyes shifting steadily to the darkened doorways and alleys between the buildings they passed, keeping watch. He knew they would find River. He'd had Cheney track things before; once he had the scent, the big dog always found what he was searching for.
They moved down First Avenue toward the center of town, and then Cheney abruptly turned left toward the waterfront. Together, the boy and the dog made their way through the rubble and along the cracked pavement toward the oily shimmer of Elliott Bay, its surface glaring sharply in the bright sunlight. A pair of Spiders appeared in a doorway and disappeared back inside instantly.
Hawk and Cheney continued on. A gull lay dead on the street in front of them, its graceful form broken, its sleek feathers matted with dirt and blood. There was nothing to show how it had died. Hawk glanced at it, thought about flying things brought low, and looked away.
Cheney went straight down to the piers, never deviating, working his way ahead at a steady pace, shadow–dark even in the bright sunlight. Hawk stayed close, cautious and alert. The wind blew off the bay like the coming of winter, bringing tears to his eyes as he squinted against its sharpness. The smells of decay filled his nostrils, causing him to duck his face deep into the collar of his coat in an effort to escape them. He found himself wondering if the waters of the bay would ever recover. He guessed that in time, if left alone, nature would find a way to heal them. But he couldn't be sure. He couldn't be sure there was any healing to be found.
Cheney stopped suddenly, freezing in place, hackles raised. Hawk stopped with him, eyes sweeping the streets in all directions. Then he caught sight of movement on the waterfront south, down by the cranes. A cluster of dark figures wearing what looked like red armbands were working their way through the trash, headed away. Another tribe, one he did not recognize. Some came from outside the city to forage, tribes that lived in the hills behind the city, in what were once the residential communities. Some were very dangerous, as bad as the Croaks. One had moved into the city a year or so back, hard–eyed street kids with no compunction about killing. It would have been bad for the rest of them if the group hadn't made the mistake of angering one of the Lizard communities.
When it was over, only the Lizards were left.
He waited until the cluster of armbanded figures had disappeared from view, then urged Cheney ahead again. They walked out onto the flats at the foot of James Street and toward the docks. Cheney was sniffing the ground again, returned to his task. He swung south, and then stopped, casting about in some confusion. A moment later, he started away again, headed north toward the remains of the aquarium.