Gnewt's Arc

Chapter 12 of 14

Gnewt coiled tighter in the shade of the collapsed wall, watching the villagers disperse from the shrine. They'd gotten what they wanted—someone to blame, someone to banish, someone to rebuild what broke. She pulled another stone from the rubble and set it in a pile. A shadow fell across the rubble. Gnewt looked up. A frog in worn boots stood at the edge of the ruined house, an eye patch covering one socket. Gnewt froze. The frog held up a necklace—two rings looped on a delicate chain, one smaller than the other. "Found this in my pack," the frog said. "Thought you might want it back before Stryker leaves." Gnewt's throat tightened. She'd hidden that necklace years ago, the night she'd chosen loyalty over love. The frog stepped closer. "She's your daughter, isn't she?" Gnewt didn't answer. She slithered forward and took the necklace, looping it carefully into her pouch. The frog watched her without moving. "I saw you both at the willow tree once," the frog continued. "Back when the initials were fresh. N and S. I knew then, but I kept it quiet." Gnewt's scales prickled. The village had never known. Not Croaker, not Guidry, not even the elders. She'd kept Stryker safe by keeping the truth buried. "Why tell me now?" Gnewt asked. The frog shrugged. "Because she's leaving at dawn. And you're letting her go without saying it out loud." Gnewt turned toward the willow tree at the village edge, its branches swaying in the evening breeze. The carved heart still marked the bark, faded but visible. She'd spent years protecting Stryker from a distance, never claiming what couldn't be claimed without making her a target. But the frog was right—silence had kept Stryker alive, but it had also kept them apart. Gnewt coiled the necklace tighter in her pouch and slithered toward the tree. She had until dawn to decide if loyalty meant letting go or finally holding on.