Periwinkle's Arc

Chapter 16 of 17

The glow told Periwinkle who could leave. But knowing did not empty the beds. Each night the horse and the big bear brought more lost souls to the door. Each morning only a few walked out. Now the straw ran full along both walls. Two men slept head to foot in one space. A mother and her child shared a single blanket. Periwinkle stood in the crowded room and counted eleven sleepers where six had once fit. She could not turn anyone away. Her oath forbade it. She could not build another house alone. The winged woman had given her much already. She did not want to beg again. That night the little bear rang the brass bell twice. The horse had returned. But this time it carried no rider. It stood in the snow, empty, and stamped its hoof. Then, from the dark trees, a great shape walked into the oven light. A lion came. His mane was thick and dark red, and his steps made no hurry. He was tall as the big bear, but calm, with a steady gaze that did not frighten. He stopped at the open door and looked at the full beds. Then he looked at Periwinkle. She did not run. Something in his face held her still. He lay down across the threshold, filling the doorway with his warm body. His breath fogged in the cold. "You cannot fit inside," she said. "There is no room left." The lion only closed his eyes and pressed his back against the door. Then Periwinkle understood. He had not come for a bed. He had come to guard one. At dawn, three sleepers rose whose glow had faded. They gathered their things and reached for the door. The lion stood and walked out ahead of them into the snow. He did not stop at the tree line. He walked slow beside them, matching their tired steps, until the trees swallowed them all. An hour later he returned alone. He lay again in the doorway. That night the horse and the bear brought four new souls. But now, each morning, the lion walked the recovered ones home. He carried the weakest on his back. None fell in the cold. None wandered off the path. The beds began to empty faster than they filled. By the third dawn, two spaces stood open along the wall. Periwinkle set fresh loaves on them for whoever came next. She watched the lion vanish into the trees with the morning's walkers. She had feared the house would burst. Now it breathed again. But the lion could guide only one group at a time, and the forest was wide. More would need guiding home than one guardian could walk.