Blushfire's Arc

Chapter 6 of 8

The white stag came back the next night, and the night after that. Blushfire climbed the ridge to listen through the wolf mark, and each time he lifted his hand toward his chest, the stag was already there at the tree line. It never charged. It never spoke. It watched. Whatever had sent it was reading him through its eyes, and he could not work while something on the far side counted his breaths. He tried to lose it first. He took Choji into the pines and cut a wide loop through the deadfall, moving the way the forest had taught him. The husky stayed close, hackles up, blue eyes fixed on the trees. When Blushfire reached the ridge stones, the stag stepped out of the ferns twenty paces off. Flowers still in its antlers. Same tilt of the head. Choji growled low. Blushfire put a hand on the dog's neck and turned him back down the slope. He would not spend Choji on a staring contest. He went home to the porch swing. Melissa was awake, wrapped in a blanket, watching the road. He told her the stag would not leave. He told her he could not listen with it there. She thought a long moment. Then she said, "You need someone to sit with it. Not fight it. Sit." He knew who she meant. He walked to the ruin at the edge of town, the old chapel where roots had eaten through the pews and colored glass still lay in shards across the floor. Rain sound lived in the walls even when it was dry. He sat on the broken step and waited. Echo came from inside the ruin without a footstep, small and barefoot, gray robe dragging. They sat down beside him without a word. He did not have to explain. Echo never asked. "I need it watched," he said. "While I work." Echo nodded once. They climbed the ridge together before moonrise. The stag stepped out on cue. Echo walked past Blushfire and sat down in the grass ten paces from the tree line, facing the animal. They folded their hands in their lap. The stag lowered its head. It did not leave, but it did not follow Blushfire's eyes anymore. Its attention had another place to rest. Blushfire moved down the ridge to the stones. He pressed the wolf mark. He squeezed the crystal in his other hand until he felt Melissa's steady flame at the end of the line. The cold came. He listened. He wrote three lines in the black book. He shut the channel and walked back. Echo was still sitting. The stag was still there. By sunrise Echo would be gone, and the stag would come back tomorrow with new patience. He had bought one night of work, not a solution. He would need to buy every night the same way.