Sterling Forge's Arc

Chapter 13 of 31

They walked until the frostwood thinned and the ground began to slope down toward the sound of moving water. Sterling could hear the river now, a low rush past the last of the pale trees. Linny stopped at a hollow between two roots and dropped her pack. "Here," she said. "We cross in the morning." He nodded and looked back the way they had come. Nothing followed. The good blade sat warm against his hip. The darkness settled in around them the way it had every night, thick and close. He made the fire small and dug it low. Linny fed it twigs one at a time. The chipmunk climbed down her sleeve and pressed itself against her wrist, pink ears twitching at the sparks. Snow still clung in its fur. She looked at Sterling across the coals. "Now," she said. "You said again." He had known it was coming since the frostwood. He set the blade across his knees and did not look up. "I was in love with you, Lin." She went still. "I told your father. Before you ever knew. I said I wasn't ready. I wanted to forge a real sword first. Become a swordsmith. Something that could provide." He turned a stick in the fire. "I asked him if, when the day came, I could have your hand. He said yes." She did not speak. The chipmunk froze on her wrist. "He made me promise one thing. Not to hurt you." Sterling swallowed. "So when you started talking about the woods, and the place, and the light, I told you it wasn't real. I told you to stop. I thought I was keeping the promise. But I drove you out there.” She was silent for a long moment. “I was going anyway, Forge. I’d been planning for month.” "Still, I should’ve come. I should rushed after you. Instead I hid with my anger and you almost died." "I know." "I destroyed us." She stared at the fire a long time. He waited for the cut. It did not come. She wiped her nose on the back of her hand and looked at him instead. "You should have believed me." "Yes." "Say it." "I should have believed you. I should’ve believed in you." She nodded once. She pulled the ruined blade from her belt and laid it across her lap, the way he had laid the good one across his. She did not give it back. She did not ask for the good one either. "In the morning," she said, "we cross the river. Then the hill." "Yes." "You carry the good blade. That part stays." "Yes." She lay down with her back to the fire. The chipmunk curled at her throat. Sterling sat watch on the side facing the water. He listened to the river work at the rocks below and understood that she had not forgiven him. She had only decided to keep walking with him until the hill was behind them. That was the trade she was making, and it was more than he had earned.