Nell Larkspur's Arc

Chapter 5 of 23

The fae circle held, but the cold did not. An hour past moonrise, Lena's teeth started to click. Nell heard it before he saw the shiver in her shoulders. The panther still paced the slope above the glen, a white shape moving between trunks, blue eyes catching the wisp-light. It had not left. It was waiting them out. Nell counted what he had. An axe. A wool cloak. A girl going blue at the mouth. No fire. The mushroom ring kept the panther off them, but it did not keep the frost off Lena. By morning the cold would finish what the cat could not. "I need wood," he said. Lena looked at the ring, then at him. "You'd step out." "Only as far as that deadfall." He pointed to a pine snapped across the path, ten paces beyond the mushrooms. "The trees inside the circle are fae. I can't cut those." "Why not?" "Because I'd like to keep my hands." She almost smiled. He marked that too. He waited until the panther's white shape drifted behind the far trunks. Then he stepped over the ring. The fox rose to follow. He pointed her back to Lena. She sat, tail curled tight. The deadfall was dry. He worked fast and quiet, splitting what he could carry, one eye up the slope. The axe felt loud. Twice he stopped to listen. Twice the fox stayed calm inside the ring, so he kept cutting. When he had an armload, he crossed back over the mushrooms and did not breathe out until both boots were inside. He built the fire small, close to the roots of the twisted trees, where the wisps thinned. The kindling caught. Lena held her pricked fingers to it and hissed at the sting of warmth. He sat beside her. Not touching. He pulled the wool cloak off his own shoulders and draped it around them both. "You'll freeze," she said. "I run hot." "That's a lie." "It's my lie." She leaned into his side. He kept his eyes on the fire so he would not have to look at her. Her hair smelled like lye soap and thread. Her shoulder fit under his arm as if someone had measured for it. He told himself he was blocking the wind. He told himself again when she rested her head on his collarbone. "This is only for the cold," he said. "I didn't ask." The fox pressed against Lena's other side. Above the glen, the panther paced once more and then turned. Nell watched it go over the ridge and not come back. Waiting, maybe. Or bored. Either way, gone from sight. First light was hours off. He had wood enough to reach it. He had Lena warm against his ribs. He shifted the axe within reach and did not move his arm from her shoulders. "At dawn," he said, "we go." She nodded against him. The fire held.