The nuggalope belongs to neither of them, or to any specific person in particular, but no one so far has admitted to responsibility for losing it, and the Inquisition as an entity would like it back, and—

And here they are. The lady for the tracking, Silas for the wrangling. No nuggalope in sight, but it’s leaving a fairly obvious trail of damage and prints, so far, even to his inexperienced eyes, that’s meant they could follow at a trot on horseback without maybe pauses to examine the ground.

“Don’t understand how she’s so fast,” he says, when there’s a break to say anything. “They look like they’d be lumberers.”