Nell Larkspur's Arc

Chapter 19 of 23

Nell woke on the cellar floor. The stone was cold against his cheek. A lamp burned low on an overturned crate. Linny sat wrapped in a blanket by the stairs, alive, watching him. Lena knelt at his side with her hand flat on his chest, as if she had been counting his breaths for hours. "You're back," she said. "Not yet." He tried to sit up. His arms shook and gave. He dropped against the stone again. "The fae have my scent. If we stay past sunup they'll come here. To this house." Lena's mouth tightened. She did not argue. She turned to the fox, who lay pressed against his hip. "How close?" The fox's ears flattened. That was answer enough. "I can walk," Linny said from the stairs. She stood to prove it and had to grip the rail. "I can walk enough." Moss crept out from behind a barrel, barefoot, thin, watching Nell like he might vanish. He held out a tin cup of water. Nell drank. Some of it ran down his chin. Lena wiped it with her sleeve without comment. "Get up," she said. Not unkind. Flat. "I can't." "You can." She pulled his arm across her shoulders. She was smaller than him by a head, but she braced her legs and lifted. He came up halfway and stopped, breathing hard against her hair. Linny took his other side. Between the two sisters he found his feet. "Moss," Lena said. "The lamp. The fox goes first." The fox was already at the cellar door, nose to the seam. She slipped through when Moss opened it and came back a breath later. One short bark. Clear. They climbed out of the derelict house into gray light. Frost on the porch rail. Two stone gargoyles at the steps, faces eaten by weather. Nell had not looked at them going in. He did not look at them now. He looked at the path down the slope. "Town is three hours," Lena said. "We have until the sun clears the ridge." "Less," Nell said. They went down the slope together. The forest above them was quiet in a way that was not quiet. Nell felt it listening. He kept his eyes on his boots and Lena's boots and Linny's bare-stockinged feet in Lena's spare shoes. The chipmunk in Lena's apron pocket poked its head out once and ducked back. When the trees thinned and the first cottage roofs showed below, Nell stopped. "I can't go in." Lena turned on him. "You will." "They'll follow me to your door." "Then they follow you to my door." She did not let go of his arm. "You are not dying on the tree line to spare this village a fright." He looked at her. He walked. They crossed into town as the sun cleared the ridge behind them.