Avery Rhiannon's Arc

Chapter 8 of 17

Avery lifted the brindle puppy from his crate. His warm weight settled against her chest. "He's mine," she said. The words came out before she could stop them. Tom smiled and nodded, like he had been waiting for her to say it. Tom led her back through the stone hallway. He opened a side door she hadn't noticed. Inside stood a sturdy cottage of stone and weathered wood, feed sacks stacked along one wall. Hay-filled stalls lined the back. A small supply store sat tucked into the corner. Avery stopped in the doorway. Every shelf, every gate, every clean bowl was exactly what she had drawn in her notebook for years. Her knees buckled. She sat down on a feed sack and cried. The puppy licked her chin. Tom waited. Between breaths, Avery told him everything. The notebook. The names. The three drives past his tree line. The sanctuary she had built only on paper. "You already made it," she whispered. "There's nothing left for me to do." Tom helped her up. He walked her across the yard to a giant stone building she hadn't seen before. Tall doors. Small windows. Quiet inside. "My Pap-Pap's workshop," he said. "Empty for years." He looked at her. "I have the shelter. I don't have what you have. The records. The names. A place to put them where people can see." He turned to face her fully. "Share the land with me. You bring what I never thought of. I'll bring the rest." Avery looked up at the stone walls. She pictured her notebook open on a shelf inside. She pictured the puppy asleep at her feet. The quiet in her chest shifted again, deeper this time. "Yes," she said. "We help each other." Tom held out his hand, and she took it.