Thornwyn Mossbrook's Arc

Chapter 8 of 38

The girl held the carved horse in both hands. The elf stood at the ward line, hands still open, waiting for Thornwyn to speak. The wind moved his hair. He did not step closer. "You can't sleep in the log another night," Thornwyn said. "Frost is coming down harder. And the lynx is still on this ridge." He nodded once. "I know." "I can't bring you inside. Not yet. She hasn't chosen that." "I'm not asking." Thornwyn looked at the girl. The girl looked at the horse. The piebald deer stood behind them at the doorstep, patchwork flank warm against the wood, long tail brushing slow. "There's a shed," Thornwyn said. "South side of the ward. Old goat shed. Roof holds. I can pull the ward out ten paces to cover it. You stay in the shed. You do not cross to the cottage. You do not call to her. If she wants to bring you bread, she brings it with me." The elf's throat worked. "Yes." "If you break any of that, the ward closes and you sleep in the woods again. The lynx will find you before I do." "Yes." She turned to the girl. "Do you want him near? In the shed. Not the house." The girl pressed the horse to her chest. She nodded. Thornwyn walked the ward south with her staff. She spoke the words low and pushed the line out past the shed, past the woodpile, past a stump the deer liked. The air tightened, then eased. The deer followed her the whole way, nose to the ground, checking the new edge. It stopped at the shed door and looked back at her, calm. The scent was right. She trusted the nose more than her own hope. She brought the elf a blanket from her own chest, a tin of oats, a striker. She set them on the shed floor. He stood in the doorway and did not step in until she moved aside. "One week," she said. "We try one week. She watches from the window. You cut wood. You do not speak to her unless she comes to the door with me. At the end of the week, she tells me what she wants next." "Thank you." "Don't thank me yet. If she says leave, you leave." He sat on the blanket. He looked smaller inside walls. Thornwyn walked back across the yard. The girl waited at the door with the crow on her shoulder and the horse in her fist. Thornwyn crouched to her level. "He's safe tonight," she said. "So are you. The rest is yours to decide." The girl opened her hand. The horse sat in her palm, worn at the mane. She closed her fingers again and stepped back inside the cottage. Thornwyn shut the door behind them and set the bolt.