Thornwyn Mossbrook's Arc

Chapter 12 of 38

The chimera ran through the night without slowing. Thornwyn ate in the saddle and drank from her skin without dismounting. The crow shot ahead each dawn and doubled back at dusk, still frantic. Two days of ground closed to one. One closed to a half. By the second morning she smelled her own woods. She slid off the chimera's back at the tree line and set her palm on its shoulder. "Go," she said. "You are owed a rest." It touched its nose to her staff and turned into the brush. She ran the last stretch on foot. The ward held. She felt it as she crossed, the small pull against her skin. The cottage stood. The shed stood. Then she saw the deer. The piebald lay across the cottage threshold with its long tail curled tight to its flank. Blood matted the white patches on its shoulder. It lifted its head when it saw her and tried to rise. Thornwyn dropped to her knees and pressed it back down. "Stay," she said. "Show me." Three gashes ran along its ribs. Not a lynx. A blade. She pushed the door open with her staff. The cottage was empty. The hearth was cold. The girl's blanket lay on the floor beside an overturned stool. She went to the shed at a run. The door hung open. The elf sat inside with his back to the wall and his hands pressed to his thigh. Blood soaked his trousers to the knee. He looked up when her shadow crossed him. "Two of them," he said. "Yesterday. The deer went for the first one at the door. I broke the ward to help. I am sorry. I could not stay in here while they came for her." "Where is she?" "In the root cellar under the shed floor. I put her there before they saw me." He pointed with a shaking hand. "They took my knife and ran east when the deer came back for the second one. I do not think they found the trail you laid. They came from the north." Thornwyn pulled the plank aside. The girl was curled against the earth wall with her hands over her ears. She looked up. Her eyes found Thornwyn's face. She climbed out and pressed her forehead to Thornwyn's chest and held on. Thornwyn carried her to the cottage. She laid her by the cold hearth and built the fire with one hand. Then she went back for the deer and then for the elf. She set them both inside the cottage, past the boundary she had drawn a week ago. She did not speak about the boundary. She closed the door and set the bar. The false trail did not matter now. The sellswords knew the cottage. Two had come. More would follow. She had bought a night, maybe two.