“I should probably head out,” I said, stifling a yawn as I rubbed my face. “Feels like my eyes are about to fall out. I’ve never used them this much before, let alone to memorize symbols.”
“Letters,” Caz corrected with a click of his tongue. I’d been calling themsymbols, but he was determined to get me using the proper term. “But yes, it’s getting late, and we’ve got a busy day ahead. Not to mention, I still need to record my findings.” He yawned, too. “You’re a quick learner. You’ll be reading in no time.”
As I walked home that night, I clutched a jar of leftover barley, a sheet of paper, and a stick of charcoal. I held them close, smiling to myself as that strange flutter in my chest stirred stronger than before.
17
With my chinpropped on my left hand, I leaned over the bar, tracing charcoal along the parchment Caz had given me the day before.
Last night, he’d said,Reading and writing go hand-in-hand. It’s almost easier to learn both at the same time, rather than separately. I thought you might appreciate doing both.
So after tending to the inn and making breakfast, I began tracing the symbols—letters—over and over on the parchment.
Writing my name felt strange at first, but as I kept at it, I was swept up in a wave of emotions. Sadness, for the education I never had. Happiness, for meeting Caz and discovering the joy of learning to read and write. Anger, for the circumstances I was born into. Pride, for learning something new. And hope, something I rarely felt before.
It was odd, feeling so many things at once.
I suppose I had Caz to thank for that.
I was so focused on tracing the letters that I didn’t even realize he’d sat down at the bar. Caz was watching me with that scholarly look of his, but it never came off as judgmental. It was always welcoming.
“The sun hasn’t even risen yet, and you’ve already written your name forty-seven times,” Caz remarked. “I just checked on Bell, and it looks like the stable’s been handled. And judging by the smell of oats and the two packs you’ve got there, you’ve already made breakfast for the innandfor us.” He nodded toward the rations I’d packed for our ride. “You really are something else, Odessa.”
“I get restless in the mornings,” I said, shrugging him off.
“So what exactly am I paying Griffin for if you’re still doing all this?” Caz gave me a knowing look.
I shot him one right back. “A few guests said Griffin’s breakfast yesterday was ‘not worth a damn half-penny.’ I can’t let him run his own inn into the ground, can I?”
“Fair enough,” he said. “You’ve got a good heart, you know.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, feeling a bit awkward as I focused on tracing the ‘O’ in my name, making it bolder just to avoid looking up.
“I’m packed and ready. Shall we go? We made great progress yesterday, and if we keep at this pace, we’ll have the map finished before long.”
“Sure, might as well.” I folded the parchment and tucked it into my apron pocket alongside the charcoal. “Hope you’re in the mood for bread and cheese again,” I said, holding up the two bundles. “It’s all we’ve got.”
“I’ll enjoy it just the same,” Caz replied with a smile, then headed toward the stables, motioning for me to follow.
He helped me mount Bellona again, and we took off at a gallop down the main route. This time, he pushed the pace, wanting to make the most of the daylight. The farther we went into the forest to map, the longer it took to reach previous day’s stopping point. We were moving fast enough that talking became difficult, but I didn’t mind the silence.
When we finally reached the spot where Caz had placed a pin to mark where we left off, he helped me down and began unpacking his tools. Today’s path led us deeper into a new part of the forest where the trees had clearly begun to rot. Caz approached a nearby trunk andstudied its bark. It looked sickly, gray, withered, and dying. A strange yellowish pus had collected in the cracks.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” he murmured. “Is this what you meant earlier, about the forest rotting?”
“Yes,” I replied, stepping closer. “Some trees are fine, the sickness hasn’t reached them yet. But trees like this one, they’re dying. It usually takes years, but it spreads to the branches, and they’ll never bloom again. We leave trees like these be. No one knows what might happen if we don’t. If folks leave them alone, the sickness tends to keep to itself.”
“I should take a sample to bring back to the Academy,” Caz said, examining the bark again.
“It’s best you don’t touch those, Caz.” I cleared my throat and took Bellona’s reins, nodding toward the forest. “If we head out now, we should be able to reach one of the creeks by today.”
“You’re right, I need to stay focused,” Caz replied, though he still sounded distracted. “Creeks, did you say?”
“There’s one just down the road, where folk cast praying stones. They ask for protection and good fortune.”
“Is that so?” Caz murmured, turning away from the rotting tree and toward his mapping tools. “Would you say the folk of Brier Len are particularly religious?”
I thought for a moment before answering. “I’d say so. We worship the old gods, just like everyone else. And we fear devils the same way.”
