Avery Rhiannon's Arc

Chapter 2 of 17

The sky darkened before Avery reached her truck. Wind shoved through the trees and bent the tall grass flat. She turned back toward the woods, locket bouncing at her throat. A storm was here, and her truck was too far now. A sharp metal shriek pulled her eyes up. A bright wind vane on a far post was spinning wild, faster than it was built for. The arrow snapped loose and shot into the distant trees. Avery flinched, then ran. Through the rain she saw it — a gazebo wrapped around a great weeping tree, vines and blossoms shaking in the gusts. She ducked under the roof, breath ragged, hair stuck to her face. Then she froze. A man stood at the far rail, one hand on the collar of a wet, watchful dog. Past his shoulder, through the sheets of rain, she could just make out a stone cottage with warm light glowing in its shuttered windows. His house. His gazebo. His land. The dog's tail thumped once. The man looked at her, calm and unsurprised, like he had been waiting. Avery's hand closed hard around the locket. She had not knocked on his door. The storm had brought her to him instead.