Lena Marsh's Arc

Chapter 7 of 24

Forge walked them out of the trees just as the first gray light came up behind the ridge. Lena made it to the edge of the village before her legs went. She caught the fencepost with one hand and slid down it. The thread work had taken more than she had to give. "Up," Linny said. She got a shoulder under Lena's arm. "Not here. Not in the street." Forge took the other side without asking. They half-carried her through the empty lanes to the cobblestone shop with the vines on the front. Linny kicked the door open and they got Lena onto the bench by the cold hearth. Her hands lay in her lap and would not close. "Fern," Lena said. "I have to get to Fern." "You have to sit," Linny said. She pressed the back of her hand to Lena's forehead. It came away wet. "You're gray. You spun until there was nothing left. You go out that door now and you fall in a ditch." "There isn't time." "There's less time if you're dead." Linny turned to Forge. "Get Nell." Forge did not move. "He'll ask what happened." "Let him." "He'll know she went to the witch." "He'll know anyway. Go." Forge looked at Lena once, then at the door. "I don't like walking up that hill to talk to him." "Noted," Linny said. "Go." He went. Lena shut her eyes. "Don't tell him what I traded." "I won't." "Linny." "I said I won't." They waited. The shop ticked and settled around them. Upstairs their father coughed once in his sleep and was quiet again. Lena counted the coughs the way she used to count stitches. The door opened without a knock. Nell came in first, the fox at his heel, its green tail dragging leaves across the floor. Forge came in behind him and shut the door. Nell crossed to the bench and knelt. He took Lena's wrist, two fingers on the pulse. His jaw was set hard enough to see it move. "You went back to her," he said. "Yes." “You promised,” he all but growled. A tear slipped down Lena’s cheek and his shoulder fell a touch. He brought his free hand up and dragged the tear away. "What did you give her?” he whispered, almost a plea. Lena opened her mouth. Linny stepped between them. "A trinket for a trinket. Nothing you need." Nell's green eyes flicked up to Linny and held. Linny did not move. After a moment he looked back at Lena. He did not let go of her wrist. "Bread," he said to Forge. "Broth if there's any. The kettle." Forge went to the stove. Nell pulled a small cloth pouch from his vest and shook dried leaves into his palm. He crushed them and held them under Lena's nose. Her head cleared a half-step. He put his other hand flat between her shoulder blades. Warmth came through her shirt, steady, not gentle exactly, but not sparing either. "Drink when he brings it," he said. "Sleep an hour. Then we go to Fern." "You're angry." "Yes." His thumb moved once across her wrist. Gentle. Caring. "Drink."