Meadow's Arc

Chapter 2 of 5

Meadow pulled her wrist free and started for the stairs. Astrid moved faster. She blocked the door with her thin body and spread her arms. "You will not walk out that door," Astrid said. "Not like this. The dark thing already rots what it touches. You have no shield against it." "Then I make one," Meadow said. "I have magic." "Your magic heals," Astrid said. "It does not stop rot. Not yet." Her voice stayed calm, but her hands trembled at her sides. The woman who raised Meadow had never once looked afraid. She looked afraid now. Meadow stopped. The fern-furred cat pressed against her boots. Outside, Vesper's root fingers tapped the door, quick and worried. Even her scarecrow felt the change in the woods. "Sit," Astrid said. "Let me send you ready, or don't go at all." Meadow sat. Astrid took her downstairs. She moved along the shelves and pulled down a leather bag. Into it she packed bread, Fruit, a water skin, dried roots. Her hands worked fast. She was giving Meadow up, and she knew it. Then she stopped at the far shelf. She pushed aside old jars and lifted something small. It was a talisman carved from pale wood, shaped like a tree with spread branches. A cord hung from it. Astrid held it out in both hands. "This is your ward." Meadow took it. The wood felt warm, warmer than the room. "The forest spirit gave it to me," Astrid said. "The same spirit who brought you to my door eighteen years ago. It made you. It will know its own mark. The rot cannot cross this while you wear it." Meadow slipped the cord over her head. The warmth spread down her chest. For the first time since the birdsong stopped, she felt the woods reach back toward her, faint but there. Astrid's face broke. She began to cry. Meadow had never seen her cry. She dropped the bag and pulled the old woman close. Astrid felt small in her arms, all bone and shaking breath. "Where do I go?" Meadow asked. "To the spirit who made you," Astrid said against her shoulder. "Deep in the forest. It called you here to guard the green. Now it will teach you how." Meadow held her a moment longer. Then she let go. She lifted the bag onto her shoulder and touched the wooden tree at her throat. She opened the door. Vesper stood on the step, carved face turned up, root hands reaching. Beyond him the trees waited, and past them the brown edge of the rot crept closer. Meadow stepped outside. The ward held. The rot did not touch her. She had left the tower at last, and now she had to find the spirit before the dark reached it first.