Elsa Crane's Arc

Chapter 3 of 66

The weaver was gone by noon, carried out the cellar's back stairs on a tarp. Nora Lund went with her. Elsa Crane stayed at the vine-woven table with the ledger closed under her hand. Three names remained. The circle around the cross still sat on the page behind her palm, and she could not stop thinking about it. The book had answered her choice. That meant the book could lead her, too. She needed a second opinion that could not be bought or smiled at. She thought of the pale wolf at the window. Elsa took a honey-cake from the table, wrapped it in cloth, and walked out into the snow. She did not go far. Behind the meeting hall, past the woodpile, the blackberry bush had grown over an old fairy alcove — a low wooden arch heavy with dark fruit and snow. The wolf sat inside it, as if it had been waiting for her to notice the door. She crouched at the edge of the arch. Her knees ached. She set the cake on the packed snow between them. "I know what you are," she said. "You're the part of this that watches me." The wolf did not eat. Its blue eyes stayed on her face. Elsa opened the ledger on her lap. She turned to the page of the three remaining names. "I need to know if this book tells me the truth, or tells me what I want." She read the first name aloud. The wolf did not move. She read the second. The wolf's ears did not shift. She read the third — Jonas Everett, the baker who walked newcomers down to the cellar under the village — and the wolf stood. It took one step forward and put its paw on the open page, over his name. Then it looked at her and waited. Elsa's stomach turned. Jonas had no mark in the ledger. Not a cross. Not a circle. Nothing. "You're telling me the book missed him," she said. The wolf sat back down. She understood then. The ledger showed her the deaths she chose. It did not show her the ones already smiling in her kitchen. Nora's hand wrote what Elsa's hand would answer for. The rest walked free. Elsa closed the book. She pushed the honey-cake toward the wolf. This time it ate. "Then I'll have to test him myself," she said. She stood, brushed snow from her robes, and walked back to the hut. Inside, she set out a fourth cup. She would invite Jonas for tea before dark. She would smile the wide, warm smile the village trusted. And she would watch his hands the whole time, because the ledger would not warn her if he reached for a knife. Behind her, through the window, the wolf was already gone.