Nell Larkspur's Arc

Chapter 6 of 23

Dawn came gray. Nell kicked snow over the fire and pulled Lena to her feet. The fox slipped ahead of them, tail bright against the frost. They stepped out of the mushroom ring together. The path down was quiet. Too quiet. Lena walked close to his elbow, watching every gap between the trees. They passed a cluster of frost-laden pines, branches shining like glass. "It won't come back," Nell said. "You don't know that." "I do." She stopped. "Then tell me how." He kept walking. The fox looked over her shoulder at him. He pretended not to see. "Nell." "The cat gave up. Cats do." "It watched us all night. It didn't give up. It ran." She caught his sleeve. "From what?" He could lie. He had a dozen ready. Wind changed. Something bigger up the ridge. A hunter's smell on his coat. Any of them would send her home believing the woods were normal and he was normal in them. He wanted her to keep walking beside him. That was the trouble. A lie now would sit between them the rest of the way, and every step after. "Keep moving," he said. "I'll tell you while we walk." She let go of his sleeve but stayed at his shoulder. "My mother wasn't from the village," he said. "She was from further in. Past where your sister went." Lena's steps did not slow, but her breath did. "Fae," he said. "Not the small kind. Her blood is in me. Half of it. That's why my ears go green at the tips. That's why the villagers cross the road." "And the panther." "Things born in the deep woods know what I am. Some of them owe her line something. Some of them are afraid of it. That one was afraid." She was quiet for ten steps. He counted them. "So you're dangerous," she said. "To it. Not to you." "How do I know that." "You don't." He made himself look at her. "I've never lifted a hand at anyone who didn't lift one first. But you asked, and I won't lie about what I am. Not to you." Her face did something small he could not read. Her mouth tightened. Her eyes went wet once and then dry. She looked at the fox. She looked at the frost on the pines. She looked at his hand where it hung by his side. She took it. Her fingers were cold and pricked with old needle marks. She did not squeeze. She only held on, palm to palm, and started walking again as if it were nothing. "Then keep me close," she said. His throat closed. He nodded because he could not speak. The fox trotted ahead. The ridge fell away behind them. Nell walked down out of the deep woods holding Lena Marsh's hand, and for the first time in his life someone knew and had not stepped back.