Raewyn's Arc

Chapter 1 of 3

Raewyn had guarded this grove for two human lifetimes, and now strangers came with axes. She smelled their smoke through the trees. She meant to drive every one of them out. But the only path deep into the grove ran past the dark-barked tree, and she would not go near it. She stood at the edge of the clearing and stared at the trunk. It had grown from a seed pulled from her own hair. She had planted that seed on a grave. A young elf lay under the roots, a child killed on a watch she had traded away because she wanted to sleep. The tree was taller than her now. It had no low branches. She had never let herself look at it long enough to count its shadows. Behind her, wood cracked. An axe bit oak somewhere down the slope. The invaders were cutting toward the heart of the grove. If she waited, they would reach the old ones. She had to pass the tree tonight or lose the forest. Raewyn took one step forward. Her legs locked. She could not force her body past the grave. Then the great sentinel tree at the clearing's center spoke. It was the oldest thing in the grove, its ironwood trunk twisted with age, its bark carved by time into the shape of a sleeping face. She had heard it wake only twice in her life. "You buried guilt and grew a wall," the sentinel said. Its voice moved the ground under her feet. "The child does not blame you. You blame you." "I did nothing," Raewyn said. "I found what killed her. I let it walk." "And it never came for you." The sentinel's carved eyes did not open. "Because the child stayed between. She has guarded your path since the day you planted her." Raewyn looked at the dark tree again. She made herself walk toward it. Her heart slammed. She reached the trunk and pressed her palm to the cold bark. The tree did not strike her. It leaned. Its branches bent away from the deep grove, pointing her forward, clearing the path she had feared for years. She understood then. The child had not been waiting to punish her. The child had been holding the way open, waiting for her to come. Raewyn passed the grave tree and stepped onto the buried path. Her body no longer fought her. She moved fast now, silent between the old trunks, toward the smoke and the sound of axes. Ahead, torchlight flickered through the leaves. She counted the shapes around the fire. Broad shoulders. Braided beards. Iron axes leaned against a felled trunk. More of them than she had guessed, deep in her grove already, cutting. The path was open. The intruders were close. And she was alone against a warband.