Matthew Sharpclaw's Arc

Chapter 3 of 12

They walked back to the house together, three sets of paw prints close enough to overlap. Inside, Rarespot smoothed the ultimatum flat on the table and read it again, slower this time. Her ears pinned. The color left her face in one quiet pull. Matthew watched her fingers stop on the signature at the bottom. She did not speak right away. When she did, her voice was low and certain. "I know this name, Matthew. We can't just hand it over. Not to him." Redtail set a hand on her shoulder. Matthew's stomach tightened. Whatever fix he had imagined was already gone. Rarespot stood and pulled her cloak tight. "Walk with me," she said. They stepped outside onto a soft patch of crusted snow. She held the parchment up to the gray sky, the word at the top dark against the light. Her finger tapped the signature. "He worked under my mother. He doesn't write notices like this for snakes. He writes them when he wants leverage on someone he already knows." Matthew's breath fogged. Lyra's hospital glittered in the distance, all pale ice and quiet windows. He had walked her there a hundred times. Now it looked like a target. "What does he want?" Matthew asked. Rarespot folded the agreement small and pressed it into his hand. "Not the snake. He wants to see who flinches." Redtail came out behind them, voice steady. "Then we don't flinch. We answer him directly. Together. Before the six days run out." Matthew looked down at the paper in his palm. His careful draft, the sealed reply in his satchel, was already useless. A polite refusal would not be enough. They needed to face the man who signed it. Rarespot's hand closed over his. "Tomorrow," she said. "We go to him." Matthew nodded. The fix he had planned was gone, but something heavier had taken its place — a direction, and two people walking it with him. He tucked the folded agreement into his coat. The secret was a plan now. A small, frightening plan. And it was theirs.