Annie Hayden's Arc

Chapter 3 of 27

Annie woke at first light. She had made up her mind. She would climb the mountain and bring back the flower. She pulled on her boots and stepped into the cold street. Mirael caught her arm at the inn door. "Not on an empty stomach," she said. "Stop at the bakery first. You cannot climb hungry." The bakery breathed warm air through its arched windows. Loaves glowed golden behind the glass. Behind the counter stood a short, round elf with a white beard and rosy cheeks. Flour dusted his cap. He was humming as he slid a tray from the oven. When he saw Annie, his whole face lifted. "The human!" he said. "Wayland Whitmore. Mirael's spoken of you." He said Mirael's name softly, and his ears went pink. He wrapped two rolls and a wedge of cheese in cloth and pressed it into her hands. "No coin. Just come back down in one piece. She'd never forgive me otherwise." Annie thanked him and headed for the peak. The path began gently, then turned to stone steps buried in snow. Wind cut through her thin crop top. Her bare hands went numb. Each breath burned. Halfway up, her legs shook and her lips cracked. She knew then that Aelindor was right. She would freeze long before she reached any flower. She sank against a rock. Snow soaked through her jeans. Her eyes drooped. Then something warm brushed her leg. She looked down. A fox stared up at her, red-furred, its tail wrapped in flame that gave off no smoke. Heat rolled off its body. The fox pushed against her side and looked at her as if it had waited years to find her. Annie should have been afraid. She wasn't. The warmth pulled her back from sleep. She stood, and the fox pressed to her leg with every step. Where it touched her, the cold could not reach. The snow melted around its paws. It led her up the winding stairs, matching her pace, never leaving her side. The wind screamed near the top, but the fox's heat held it off. At the summit, in a crack between two boulders, the flower burned. Its petals were living flame, its center a bright molten heart. Annie remembered Aelindor's warning. The flower would burn anyone without magic to shield them. She reached for it and stopped. The fox stepped forward and set its glowing tail against her arm. Warmth spread through her fingers. She gripped the stem. The fire licked her skin but did not burn. She pulled the flower free. It pulsed in her hand like a small sun. Annie laughed, breathless. She had the flower. She looked at the fox, and it looked back, calm and certain. It was not leaving. Whatever it was, it belonged to her now. And she understood something colder than the wind: without this creature, she could never have survived. She held her prize, and she held a new question she could not answer.