Helga McDool's Arc

Chapter 1 of 3

Helga hears the thud from the kitchen window and freezes, dish towel still in her hands. Something heavy has fallen against the porch steps. She moves to the door and opens it slowly, already praying before she sees what waits outside. A girl lies crumpled on the ground, face down in the dirt. Blood darkens her shirt collar. Her hand clutches something that catches the morning light — a necklace with intricate metalwork and a blue stone that seems to glow from within. Helga knows that kind of craftsmanship. She knows what it means when someone runs with it instead of selling it. She kneels and touches the girl's shoulder, feeling shallow breath beneath her palm. The girl's eyes open, unfocused and frightened. She tries to speak but only manages a whisper. "They're coming." Her fingers tighten around the necklace. "They'll burn everything." Helga helps her sit up, scanning the road that leads past the painted wooden chest at the farm's entrance — the old storage box Ivor's grandfather placed there to mark the boundary. Nothing moves yet. But the girl's terror is real, and Helga has learned to trust that kind of fear. She pulls the girl to her feet and half-carries her toward the green and yellow shed behind the house. The structure stands far enough from the main buildings that smoke wouldn't reach it first. Inside, behind the stored tools and seed bags, there's space enough to hide someone small. Helga settles the girl on a bed of empty grain sacks and takes the necklace from her trembling hands. She tucks it into her apron pocket. When they come asking, she'll have an answer ready. The farm has room for one more.