Thornwyn Mossbrook's Arc

Chapter 5 of 38

Thornwyn woke before the sun. The ward still hummed under the floorboards. The girl slept curled on the bench with the crust of last night's bread in her fist. Thornwyn pulled a blanket over her and went to the door. The deer stood in the yard, ears forward, long tail flicking once. It was watching the north tree line. Thornwyn followed its gaze and stepped into wet grass with her staff. She found the tracks at the edge of the ward. Boots. Not lynx. A man's stride, narrow heel, worn at the outer edge. The prints ran along the green line she had drawn and did not cross it. Whoever made them had walked the whole ring and stopped where the trees thickened. Her stomach turned. A lynx she could send off. A man who watched from cover was a different thing. She could not leave the girl alone in the cottage for the market run. Not now. She knelt and set her palm on a print. The dirt was cold. Hours old. He had come and gone before first light. "Find him," she said to the deer. "Don't be seen." The deer moved into the pines without sound. Thornwyn followed at a distance, staff low. The crow lifted from the roof and swung wide over the canopy. The trail cut east, along the ridge, then down toward the field that ran to the village. Half a mile in, the crow cried once. Thornwyn crouched behind a stump. A man sat against a birch with a satchel between his knees. Thin. Grey at the temples. Elven ears. He was eating an apple and watching the smoke from her chimney. He was not a hunter. He wore town boots and a good coat. He held the apple the way a man holds a thing he has forgotten he is holding. Thornwyn's hands went cold. She knew, before she let herself know, whose face the girl's face came from. She did not step out. She watched him watch her house. He did not move toward it. After a long time he stood, brushed his coat, and walked back down the ridge toward the field. He did not look back. Thornwyn stayed behind the stump until the deer came to her side. She put her hand on its neck and made herself breathe. She had her answer. The watcher was not a threat to the girl's body. He was a threat to everything else. She walked home. The girl was awake, sitting up, waiting. Thornwyn set the staff in the corner and knelt in front of her. "No one's coming inside," she said. "You're safe here." The girl nodded. Thornwyn held her hand and did not say the rest. In six days she had to walk to the village market. And now she knew someone would be watching the road.