Nell Larkspur's Arc

Chapter 9 of 23

The sun dropped fast behind the pines. Lena's lips had gone gray at the edges. Her village boots were soaked through, and her thin coat was made for market days, not deep woods. Nell watched her hands shake around the map. One more night out here would kill her before they reached her sister. "We need walls," he said. "Now." She nodded. She didn't argue. That scared him more than the cold. The fox stopped ahead and looked back at them. Then she bolted off the path, tail flashing green through the brush. Nell swore and pulled Lena after her. The fox knew the woods better than any map. They found her waiting at a low stone wall. Behind it stood an iron gate, tall and scrolled, half-swallowed by dead vines. Past the gate, a garden climbed in tiers up a slope. Roses hung brown on their stems. A cracked stone carving of rabbits and squirrels sat in the center path, moss growing over the animals' faces. Beyond the garden, a dark wooden house leaned against the dusk. Two stone gargoyles guarded the porch. Half the windows were broken. "Someone lived here," Lena said. Her teeth clicked. "Not for a long time." Nell put his shoulder to the gate. The latch was rusted through. He hit it twice with the flat of his axe and the whole thing groaned open. The fox slipped in first. They walked the path between the dead flowerbeds. Nell felt the house watching. He didn't say so. Lena's hand found his sleeve and stayed there. The front door was already off one hinge. Inside, the air was colder than the yard. Sheets covered every shape in the front room. Dust lay thick on the floor. Nell set Lena on the hearthstone and got a fire going with kindling from a split chair. The flames caught. Warmth pushed back the dark by a few feet. He stood and turned with the axe still in his hand. Footprints tracked through the dust. Bare feet. Small. They went from the stairs to the kitchen door and back. Not old. Not covered over. He looked at the fox. Her ears were up but not flat. Whatever had made the prints wasn't here now. "Nell." Lena was shivering hard. He pulled the sheet off the nearest couch. Dust rolled up in a cloud. He dragged the couch close to the fire and sat her on it, then sat beside her and pulled his cloak around them both. She pressed against his side without asking. Her cheek found his shoulder. "Sleep," he said. "I'll watch." "You'll freeze if you watch." "I won't." She closed her eyes. Her breathing slowed against his ribs. The fox curled at their feet, one eye on the stairs. Nell kept the axe across his knees. They were warm. They were alive. And they were not alone in the house.