Prediction.
Her mum was known more for her dramatics than her predictions, leaving Fawn wondering what she should do. What was truly best for her?
Sprig stirred, stretching and giving a small, questioning mewl before curling into a ball in the blankets.
She smiled, wishing she felt as content as the kitten. She stood, needing to keep herself busy so she would not overthink her situation and get nowhere with it. Crossing to the hearth, she fetched a small basket of scraps.
The fox, curled on his blanket near the fire, lifted his head, ears pricking.
“Hungry, are you, Ash?” she asked, smiling softly as she set the food before him.
He nosed eagerly at it, and Fawn crouched to stroke his sleek fur, her heart easing as he settled back to eat.
Any animal spending time in her cottage got a name. The fox was Ash and the owl overhead, shifting on the rafters, was Sage.
Hearing feathers rustling softly, Fawn glanced up. “Here you go, Sage.”
She offered a scrape of meat, and the owl took it gently from her hand.
A pair of doves cooed quietly on an opposite rafter, and after snatching a small piece of wool from a basket, she tucked it in their nest.
“Added warmth for the winter, Bramble and Willow,” she said softly.
Lastly, she paused by the basket where the raven rested, lifting the cloth gently to peer in. He blinked up at her, still fragile but alive.
“You’ll grow stronger by the day,” she whispered, “and fly again.”
Sprig rose to greet her when she returned to the bed. She scooped him up, pressing her cheek against his fur.
“I don’t know what to do, Sprig,” she whispered. “They both think they know what’s best for me. But I—” She broke off, her throat tight. “I don’t even know what I want. Only that I won’t be told, commanded.”
Sprig purred, steady and sure, as though lending her courage. She held him close, drawing strength from his warmth. She would find her own way… she must.
The forest stood hushedbeneath the moon, the ground touched with a thin veil of frost that glittered faintly in the silver light. Theodora drew her cloak tighter around her shoulders, her breath rising in white clouds as she stared through the trees toward her daughter’s cottage.
Her heart twisted with unease. She had spoken firmly, had commanded as she always had, but for the first time, doubt gnawed at her. Fawn was unlike her sisters. Fierce, stubbornly independent, unwilling to bend even when reason dictated she should.
What if she chooses wrong?
“What did you do, Theodora?”
The voice, while smooth, held strength. She turned sharply, her cloak’s hem whispering against the frozen leaves.
Her husband stood in the shadows of the trees, tall and lean, his silver hair falling past his shoulders, his gray eyes piercing even in the dim light. His presence carried the same quiet strength it always had, a stubborn steadiness that unsettled her now more than ever.
Her throat tightened. “Artemis.”
He stepped closer, his gaze fixed on her, concerned. “What did you do?”
For a long moment she could not speak. Then the words tumbled out, low and heartfelt. “I made a dreadful mistake. I thought to protect her… as I did Ingrid and Aura. But with Fawn—” She broke off, shaking her head.
His eyes narrowed. “What mistake?”
Theodora swallowed hard, glancing toward the distant glow from the cottage. “I granted him a wish. A foolish, reckless wish. And then I—” She leaned closer, whispering into his ear, fearful of anyone hearing.
When she drew back, Artemis’s eyes were wide, his face pale beneath the moonlight.
“You have really done it this time, Theodora,” he said, his voice low with dread.
