Kolindo's Arc

Chapter 4 of 4

Kolindo walked back through the rainbow grass with her hands empty. No owl. No stopped time. The far field lay past the last row of glittering bales, quiet in a way that felt wrong. She crouched at the edge and listened. Something big was breathing behind the hill. Something else was mewling — thin and scared, close to the ground. She crawled up the slope. In the hollow below, a plump kitten with dragonfly wings sat frozen in the grass, rainbow fur flattened. Ten paces off, a low shape pushed through the reeds. Broad back. Wet snout. Yellow eyes fixed on the kitten. A field predator, and hungry. Kolindo reached for her knife and found only her belt. She had left even that at the fox hut. "Move and it charges." The voice came from her elbow. Sylvara crouched beside her in the grass, apron dusty, file still behind one ear. Four small dragons clung to her shoulders and tail, silver filigree bright along their scales. Kolindo had never seen the fox leave her workshop. Sylvara did not look at her. "You followed me," Kolindo whispered. "I forgot something." Sylvara pulled a bundle of oilcloth from her apron. "Found this under the bench after you left. Old fox work. My grandmother's." She unrolled it. A tarnished needle lay on the cloth, long as Kolindo's forearm, dull silver. Knotted through its eye was a length of thread that shone every color at once. The braid was frayed in three places. One end had snapped clean. "Dragon silver. Rainbow thread. The old foxes braided it to bind big things." Sylvara touched the broken end. "It's dead like this." "Can you fix it?" "Now?" "Now." Sylvara clicked her tongue. The smallest dragon slid down her arm and bit its own tail. A bead of silver welled up. She caught it on the needle's eye and hummed three notes Kolindo did not know. The frayed places pulled tight. The snapped end wove itself back into the braid. The whole length hardened, then went soft as silk. Below them, the predator crouched to spring. The kitten made a sound like a hiccup. Kolindo took the needle. It weighed nothing. She stood. She whipped the thread out in a wide arc. It sang. She spun it over her head, faster, the needle a bright point at the end, and let the loop drop. The rainbow braid settled around the predator's shoulders before it could turn. She yanked. The thread cinched. The beast hit the dirt on its side, snarling, pinned by a line no tooth would cut. The kitten bolted uphill and slammed into Kolindo's knees. Sylvara stood up, brushing grass off her apron. "Two problems," she said. "One rope. The king will want to hear how his purl was almost eaten." Kolindo held the thrashing line steady. The predator was caught. The kitten was not a purl.