Violet Blackstone's Arc

Chapter 8 of 14

By midday they stopped to rest under a leaning pine. The boy slept with the fern against his cheek. His mother watched the trees. Violet sat apart and pulled a strip of birch bark from her pack. She had no runner. No bird. No way to tell Colton that strangers were coming to his door. She pictured it. Two hollow-eyed people at the north gate. Colton at the porch with a knife in his hand. He had been starved by his old pack. He knew what strangers meant. He would bar the door before he asked a name. Nadia crouched beside her. "You're chewing your lip raw." "Colton doesn't know we're bringing them," Violet said. "He'll see two shapes at the fence and think the worst." "You could go ahead. Run the last day. Meet him first." "And leave you three on the creek bed." Violet shook her head. "No." A branch snapped uphill. Violet's hand went to her knife. The mother pulled the boy in tight. A woman stepped out from between two firs. Dark hair loose, apron pockets stuffed with green cuttings, sandals caked in mud. She held up both hands, palms open. She smiled at the boy first, not at Violet. "I'm not with the trappers," she said. "I saw your fire last night. I've been walking north three days." Nadia stood slowly. "Who told you north?" "A man at the trading post. He said a tall woman with black hair was taking people to a farm. Blue house. White trim." She looked at Violet. "That's you." Violet's stomach dropped. If a stranger in an apron knew, others knew. Rumor was already moving faster than her feet. "What's your name?" "Willow." She crouched to the boy's level without being asked. She pulled a sprig of mint from her pocket and held it out. He took it. "I'm good with children," she said. "And gardens. And walking fast." Violet studied her. Green thumb. Steady hands. No weapon. A woman who moved toward a crying child instead of away. "You can walk with us," Violet said. "But I need something from you first." "Anything." "You go ahead. Tonight. Alone. You reach the farmhouse a full day before we do. You tell the man there, Colton, that Violet sent you. You tell him a woman and a boy are coming. You tell him the blue-trim house needs beds made and the north gate open." She pulled the signet cord from her own neck, a small wooden token Colton had carved for her before she left. "Show him this. He'll know." Willow closed her fist around it. "If you run with it, I lose everything," Violet said. "I won't run." Willow tied the cord under her collar. "I've been looking for a place like that my whole life." She went at a jog, north along the creek. Violet watched until the trees swallowed her. The message was sent. Now she only had to hope it arrived.