Finn took a breath, but before he could answer, realization washed over her.
“It was you,” she said. “That day in the clearing. You were the wolf.” She looked away as an uncomfortable heat filled her cheeks. How foolish he must think her, falling for his ruse, actually believing her dead mother had sent a sign just for her.
“I didn’t want you to hurt alone.”
The simplicity of his admission made her glance back, daring to meet his stare. “You knew when she’d died?”
He nodded. “I felt it. Here.”
He raised his hand—the one wearing her mother’s ribbon—and touched his chest, gesturing to his heart.
Like a fish caught on a line and pulled to shore, Greer leaned in, reaching for the bracelet. She traced a finger over it and felt the heat of his skin beneath the worn silk.
“It was the best gratitude I could think to give,” she said, admiring her mother’s stitches, still dazzling and perfect even after so many years. “I’d thought…I was so grateful to have you there. I’d cried for so long and…” She glanced up, startling at how close their faces were. But she didn’t back away. “You stayed with me. That whole afternoon.”
“It was as much a comfort for me as it was for you.”
Greer studied his profile with fresh eyes, recalling his earlier words. Here was proof of just how long he’d followed after her, watched over her, but for reasons Greer could not put into words, it did not bother her. In fact, it…
“Do you want it back?”
His voice was less than a whisper, brushing across her ears with husky intimacy.
Greer withdrew her hand. Part of her did, longing to have this small scrap of Ailie with her as she ventured into the mines. The other partof her warmed as she realized how long Finn had held on to it. She liked knowing that a little part of her had been with him, too. “No. I gave it freely. It’s yours.”
“I don’t have many possessions,” he admitted, “but it is my most treasured.” His gaze fell on her. “When Ailie died…it felt as though part of me had as well. But being there, with you…you helped ease that ache.”
Unable to stand the weight of his eyes upon hers for another second, she looked away, peering out over the valley, then gasped. “Whatisthat?”
Below them was a wide basin, the last level swath of land before the Severing Mountains began to rise. It was littered with great piles of debris and wreckage. Tall, broken timbers jutted from messes of fallen bricks and torn-apart roofs. It had been a town once, quite sizable, but now…
Nature had begun to creep back and reclaim the once settled area for its own. Saplings stood in the middle of roofless structures. Remnants of cabins and other buildings were covered in green moss and gray lichen. She could pick out what had been the main thoroughfare, several large buildings, shops, a blacksmith’s forge, stables. This had been a bustling, thriving community, at least a hundred families strong.
Greer pulled out her map and searched for anything that would indicate what this disaster had been. “Was that Laird?”
“Once,” Finn confirmed.
“What…what happened to it?” she asked, already knowing the answer. Greer had read survivors’ accounts, she knew Martha’s stories, she’d seen it play out in her dreams.
Finn shifted, sensing a response wasn’t needed.
“How many Bright-Eyeds were there?”
“Here?”
Greer thought she nodded.
He kept his gaze trained on the scene before them. “Two.”
Two.
Two creatures had unleashed this much damage and devastation.
Decades had gone by since the massacre, but Greer fancied she couldstill hear the echoes of Laird’s screams hanging in the air, ringing off the crumbling structures, seeping from the bones of houses long emptied of inhabitants.
“Well. Three, I suppose, at the end.” Finn scratched at the back of his neck. “This was where Elowen turned me.”
“This was your home?” Greer was aghast. He nodded. “How long ago did this happen? How many people were killed?”
