Fenwick Thistleboom's Arc

Chapter 2 of 5

Fenwick staggered the last few steps to her door, the locket swinging from his red fist. His legs gave out. He hit the moss hard and left two long smears in the mud behind him, deep grooves where his boots had dragged. The door cracked open. She saw the silver chain first, and her face went soft and bright. Then she saw the rest of him. The blood. The torn sleeve. The way he could not lift his head. She froze. Then she moved. She rushed out with a small glowing vial clutched in her hand, the liquid inside sparking like trapped stars. Her tower stood open behind her for the first time, its foggy glass panels catching the dim light, iron frame twisted with vine and age. She knelt in the mud beside him. She did not speak. She uncorked the vial with her teeth. "You stupid man," she whispered, and tipped the light against his wound. The chapter of the closed door was over. She was outside, and her hands were on him, and neither of them could pretend otherwise now.