Nell Larkspur's Arc

Chapter 16 of 23

The forest hunted him. Roots buckled the ground under his boots. Branches swung low to catch his shoulders. Nell shoved through a stand of frost-laden pines and their icy needles raked his face. Linny hung slack in his arms. Her breath had gone so shallow he could not feel it against his neck anymore. He would not make the ridge. He would not make the path. He would die here with her, and the trees would take them both. He stopped in the shelter of a dense cluster of frosted trunks and put his back to the biggest one. His legs shook. Linny's head lolled. Her lips were gray. His father's voice came to him then, from a long way off. A story told by a fire when he was small. A traveling hovel that walked the winter woods. A witch inside who would mend what could not be mended. You whispered the name and the door found you. And the price. His father had said the price twice. It always costs more than you mean to pay. Nell had nothing left to bargain with. He had already given the Fae his scent. He had already given the forest his name. "Polona," he said. His voice cracked. "Polona. Polona." The wind stopped. A root uncoiled from his ankle and slid back into the moss. The trees around him held still, listening. Between two frosted trunks ahead, a light bloomed that had not been there. Warm yellow. Round windows. A crooked chimney trailing smoke that smelled of bread. The cottage stood tucked into the snow as if it had grown there. Runes were carved into the beams. Bundles of dried herbs hung by the door. A green stone glinted beside a purple one in the lower windows. Nell staggered to it. He kicked snow off the step. The door opened before he touched it. Inside, heat. A low ceiling. A woman at a table who did not look up. She was stirring something in a wooden bowl. Her hair was white and her hands were young. "Put her by the fire," she said. He laid Linny on the rug. Her chest barely moved. He knelt beside her and could not make his hands let go of her sleeve. The woman came around the table. She looked at Linny for a long moment. Then she looked at Nell. "I can pull her back," she said. "The vines went deep. It will take until dawn." "What do you want." She smiled. It was not unkind. "Not tonight. The price is set later, when you know what you have to give. That is how it works. You agree now. You pay when I name it." Outside, the forest pressed against the walls and could not enter. Linny's fingers were cold in his hand. "Agreed," Nell said. The woman knelt. She began to work. Nell watched Linny's chest rise, once, deeper than before, and the door behind him locked itself with a small wooden sound.