Mrs. Millwood’s eyes flashed. “You didnotwin ‘fair and square’. To think that your perception of honesty and truth would become so swiftly skewed.”
“Councilor,” Agvaldir said, calm as ever as he placed a heavy hand on Mrs. Millwood’s shoulder, “is it not in Haverow’s way to extend a helping hand to those that need it the most? I cannot imagine a more deserving person than one of your own whohas so tragically lost her way.” His gaze rested meaningfully on Pansy at that, his blue eyes strangely cold in contrast to the apparent warmth of his words. “It’s as I’ve always said to those who join me on my campaigns: no matter how far one may go, there is always a road home.”
“I – I haven’t lost my way,” Pansy protested, her throat working around each word as if they were shards of splintered glass. She looked about her, searching, it seemed, for some shred of support among the slew of familiar faces.
At last, she caught sight of her parents, standing off to one side, their expressions frozen in wide-eyed looks of horror.Say something, pleaded her gaze, already awash in a watery film.
But her parents said nothing. Instead, they looked away, fear and shame drawing tight over their features.
Something snapped in Pansy then. Ren saw it in her face, the dark jolt that sliced across it, twisting her mouth into a sneer. Ren wanted nothing more than to gather her into their arms and tell her that they were there for her, that they’d always be. Too bad it wasn’t their support she needed right now.
Teeth bared, Pansy whirled on Agvaldir and snarled, “Well, you can take your ‘helping hand’ and shove it!” Where exactly he could do so was an answer readily deduced, given the rude gesture with which she capped off her statement.
“My word!” cried Mrs. Millwood aghast, clutching one hand to her breast, as if that alone could shame Pansy into immediately apologizing.
“Let’s go get our pumpkin,” Pansy bit out, already starting towards where they’d dropped it off. “It’s not like anyone here deserves it.”
She walked quickly, each footfall landing more heavily than the last. Her hands, knotted into trembling fists at her side,pulsed with the same tension that wound along her jaw, locking it tight. Sheer stubbornness had turned her into a paradox, simultaneously as strong as iron forged in the hottest of flames and as fragile as wafer-thin glass.
“Hey, it’ll be okay,” Ren said, touching a gentle hand to her shoulder once they’d managed to catch up. “We’ll go home and turn that pumpkin into that stew you mentioned before, the one that’s perfect for autumn. Then we’ll sit down together and enjoy it – just the two of us. Does that sound good?”
To Ren, it absolutely did – but whether Pansy agreed, who could say? She certainly wasn’t giving any indication one way or another, her lips an unflinching, pale line across the mottled planes of her face.
“Or we could do something else,” Ren continued, the fear of having said the wrong thing congealing in the pit of their stomach like a hunk of ice.
Still, Pansy said nothing. She only walked, her gaze fixed firmly ahead, as unchanging as the seam of her mouth.
It wasn’t until Blossom appeared on the path ahead of them, her face damp and flushed with exertion, that something finally changed. Pansy flinched, as the sound of her name, cried from Blossom’s mouth, registered with all the force of a punch to the gut.
All Pansy managed was a weak, “I can’t do this,” uttered in the thinnest of whispers, before she turned on her heel and ran.
This time, Ren let her go. And when Blossom moved to follow her, they put a hand out to stop her and shook their head. “Don’t.”
Blossom seemed almost offended by the suggestion, the knots plaguing her brow oscillating between annoyance and genuine confusion. “I just wanted to apologize,” she explained,stiffening beneath the weight of Ren’s stare. “I’d planned to drop off a letter, once all this”– she waved a hand around her – “craziness was over. But then I heard that Pansy was here, and so I thought to try to catch her in person instead. I ran all the way from where they’re setting up tonight’s feast.” A beat. “Did – did something happen?”
Part of Ren wanted to laugh, mirthless and sharp.Did something happen?The question sounded even more stupid the second time around. But Blossom hadn’t been there; she hadn’t seen. In fact, she’d barely even gotten a glimpse of Pansy herself, and from a distance at that.
So Ren forced themself to nod, to tuck away the part of themself that had been left jagged and sharp, for they were as much a blade as they were Pansy’s shield. And they said, “Give her time.”
Ren caught up with Pansy a little way outside town, just far enough that Haverow’s burrows could almost be discounted as nothing more than distant hills.
She sat in the middle of the road, curled in on herself, her knees tucked against her forehead so tightly it was a wonder she could even so much as sway in the breeze. But Pansy wasn’t a statue, stock-still and made of stone. Her shoulders heaved around every sob, tearing through her like a saw-toothed blade through bark, while the rest of her shuddered with the desperate gasps that followed, made only to fill her lungs with enough air to repeat the cycle anew.
Ren said nothing as they knelt down beside her. As far as they were concerned, it wasn’t necessary. The hand they brought up to rest lightly against her scalp, smoothing out her hair with tender strokes, said everything that needed to be said.
“That feels nice,” Pansy mumbled at last, her voice clotted with snot and tears.
“Nana – my clan’s leader, I guess you could say – used to do it for me whenever I couldn’t fall asleep,” Ren explained, their voice as gentle as their touch. “I always found it rather soothing.”
Pansy let out a honking sort of laugh. “Trying to put me down for a nap?”
They shook their head. “Just trying to help you feel better. Even if only in some small way.”
“Yeah,” Pansy said after a beat, the word riding away on a wistful exhale. “I know.”
“Is it helping?”
She sniffled, shrugged. “A little. It’s just—” Her voice cracked, emotion once again flooding the splintered web today’s events had left behind.
