“Hi there, sweet,” I murmured.
Caz stepped closer, his grin just a little too wide, like he couldn’t help it, even if it hurt to smile that much.
“I stepped outside and noticed something big moving through the trees over there,” he said, nodding toward a cluster at the edge of the woods. “At first, I thought it might be some kind of beast. But it was Bell! She’s unharmed, thank the gods.” He gestured to a rucksack lying in the grass. “And if that wasn’t enough luck, I found my pack still strapped to her. I checked inside, and my tools and equipment are all intact. But my books and journals… well, they’ve taken a bit of a beating.”
“I’m so relieved,” I said, though something inside me twisted, uncertain. “This is great news, Caz. Truly.”
“An unexpected stroke of luck,” Mag interrupted with her dry tone, head tilting. “The gods are rarely so generous, scholar. One moment, they allow calamity to strike. The next, they give back what was lost.” Mag glanced at me, her tone shifting, “It’s a strange game they play. Wouldn’t you agree, little one?”
“I know better than to speak on the gods’ whims,” I said, lips tight.
“Ah, but the gods are always watching,” Mag replied, her eyes darkening. “Whether we understand them or not. They have a way of making their judgment known, sooner or later.”
“I can only be grateful,” Caz said, missing the edge in her voice. Hewalked over and wrapped her in a hug. “Thank you, Mag. I won’t forget your kindness.”
“Let go of me, boy!” she snapped, shoving him back with surprising strength. “Both of you! Gone, before the sun crests the trees.”
“We should get back to the inn,” Caz said, unbothered by her coldness. He glanced at the horizon. “Griffin’s probably worried sick.”
“I doubt it,” I muttered. “He’s more likely fuming. Let’s go, Caz.”
I shot Mag a cold look, my irritation rising. She never spoke plainly. It was always riddles, never answers.
“The gods move as they will, whether you see the pattern or not,” she rasped, words clearly meant for me. “We’ll cross paths only once more, little one.”
With that, she turned and vanished into her shop as the door clicked shut, locking behind her. The sound of it was final.
“I’ll miss that grumpy old thing,” Caz said, a surprising fondness in his voice. “All sharp edges, but there’s warmth under there.”
“Only you could find the good in Mag,” I muttered with a sigh. “Come on, Caz. We’ve got a long road ahead.”
“Where in the gods’name were you, Odessa?” Griffin huffed, his round face blotchy with red. “Gone nearly two full days, and not a whisper of warning!”
“I’m sorry, Griff,” I replied, guilt pressing down on me. “We ran into trouble in the woods.”
“Trouble or not, that’s two whole shifts!” he barked, not caring that half the patrons at the bar could hear him from the kitchen. “Imagine if I hadn’t stayed late a day ago. The inn would be left to run by its lonesome!”
“I know,” I said quietly. “I’m really sorry, Griff. I would’ve come back sooner, but the trouble was... bad.”
“Whenisn’t there trouble in those damned woods?” he muttered, but his eyes were gentler than they had been. “Be here by midday tomorrow. I don’t hand out free coin, and I don’t take kindly to those who shirk their word.”
I nearly bit back a remark about how, before I arrived, he spent most days drunk at the gambling tables, and how the inn only turned around after I started working. But Griffin was who he was. Beneath the gruff, there was a quiet compassion that most never saw.
“I’ll be here tomorrow. I swear.”
Griffin let out a disapproving grunt, shooting me a frown as he grabbed an amber bottle from the nearby shelf. Still, as he passed, his hand rested briefly on my head as he headed toward his room. At the stairs, he paused and said over his shoulder, “Skirtsfolk are saying my cooking doesn’t measure up to yours. If you don’t start taking over soon, I might lose my business altogether.”
“Understood, Griff.” I knew that was his way of giving a compliment.
“And Dess?” he called back.
“Yes?”
“This trouble… does it have anything to do with what happened at the Rustwood? Folk’ve been talking about an attack. Some say it was a wild beast. Others whisper a devil brought death to those eight men.”
A crease formed between my brows. “Is that the old milling farm?”
“Aye,” he confirmed.
