Raven Meadows's Arc

Chapter 6 of 25

Morning found Raven at the hearth table, watching Torryn eat. The dragon shifter had dried her wet beams through the night. Now the first hut had a roof. She'd needed his flame to build it. She'd need his flame again for the other two. But she couldn't ask. Not yet. She owed him for last night, and a debt like that sat wrong in her chest until she paid it. "You said your name," Raven said. "Torryn. You never said what brought you here." He set down his fork. His stuffed bear sat beside his plate, ears crooked from old stitches. "A thief took Captain Fluffington," he said. "And a jar of pickled eggs. Sealed. Mine." He touched the bear's ear. "I tracked them to a market. Lower one. Then I lost the scent. My flame dulls my nose. It always has." "So you can't smell them out." Raven leaned forward. "But I can send someone who can." She thought of the werewolf pup asleep by the fire. His nose was sharp. Sharper than hers. "I know the lower market. And I know a nose that works." Torryn looked at her. "Why would you do this." "Because I owe you." She stood. "You dried my wood. I don't like owing. This clears it." They went that afternoon. Raven took Finn, who kept close and quiet. The lower market was a mess of stalls and smoke. Finn lifted his head and breathed. Then he pulled. Raven followed him past crates and hanging cloth to a hunched stall keeper counting coins. On the shelf behind him sat a stuffed bear with a torn ear, and a sealed jar of eggs. Raven didn't shout. She set the jar on the counter and looked at the man. "That bear isn't yours," she said. "The eggs aren't either. We can talk, or I can bring the dragon who breathes fire. He's outside. He's patient. Not forever." The stall keeper looked at Finn's blue eyes, then at Raven's flat stare. He pushed the bear across the counter. "Take them," he muttered. "Both. No trouble." They walked back at dusk. Finn carried the egg jar with both arms. Raven held the bear. When they reached the cottage, Torryn stood by the fire. He saw the bear and went still. She handed it to him. He checked the ears, all four seams, then held it tight. "We're even now," Raven said. "I don't owe you." "No." Torryn looked at the leaning huts. Two still had no roofs. "You don't." He breathed a thin line of flame at the nearest wet frame. Steam hissed off the boards. "But I'm staying. The nose is useful. So is the fire." Raven watched the wood dry. She had two more huts coming now, and a flame she could ask for freely. The debt was gone. What replaced it was worse to name. He wasn't a guest anymore. He'd chosen to stay.