“They’re negotiating a trade deal with the matriarch. My village is in need of medicinal potions for healing burns, broken bones, and the like.”
“Oh, great. Heran will give them a fair deal. She’s very generous,” Ena replied.
“Are you close with her?” he asked.
“Yes, very. She raised me and my sister Greya after our parents died. I’ve lived with her practically my whole life.”
Ty was quiet for a beat, as though he was debating what to say. “How did they die? Your parents.”
“It was a fever, or so I’m told. I was only two, so I don’t really remember it.”
“Don’t you witches have potions for fevers? The way you’re talked about in Yalta, you’re practically immortal.”
Ena laughed lightly at that. “No, unfortunately not. We do have many potions for many illnesses, but sometimes they arenot ready in time to heal those who need healing, or sometimes the sickness is just too strong.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Ty said in all seriousness. “Were they both witches too?”
“Yes, my mom was from Auster and my dad was from Aquilo, but they lived here.” She could have left it there, but there was something about Ty’s stillness, the way he listened intently, giving her the opportunity to say more, that made her keep speaking. “I don’t know much else about them, really, only what Heran and the other members of my Coven have told me over the years. I know my mom looked like Greya, and I take after my father. She had the Gift ofarboresand maintained the fruit grove, and he had a form ofanimaliumthat allowed him to communicate with birds, but just facts like that. There’s a lot I don’t know. A lot I’ll never know.”
Ty nodded silently in understanding. “I know what that’s like. Losing your parents, I mean,” he offered, speaking hesitantly, as if sharing this was new for him. “I lost mine as well. Well, I lost my dad a few years ago. I never knew my mother.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Ena replied. As tough as it was for her to not have known her parents, she couldn’t imagine having grown up with them for years, forging that bond, only to lose them. Ty’s loss seemed all the more cruel. “How did your father die?” she asked gently, posing the same question he had to her.
“A stomach ailment,” Ty responded stoically.
“And your mother…?” Ena asked cautiously.
Ty looked away, as if hiding a shameful secret. “She left when I was a baby,” he said.
Ena had more questions, but she knew how to take a hint. The pain that tightened Ty’s voice, the way he looked away—he clearly didn’t want to go into more details, so she didn’t push, and soon the conversation stalled as the land became steeper and they both breathed heavily.
Eventually, they left the riverbank and moved into the forest where there was a path that cut back and forth up the ridge to the top of the cliff. As they rounded a switchback, Ena’s Knowing alerted her to a presence.
Grabbing Ty’s arm, she stopped him. He looked down at her in question as she silently put a finger to her lips, telling him to be quiet. She didn’t miss the way his eyes stared at her lips a beat longer than necessary.
She used her Knowing to read the signs of the forest, and then she spotted it and had to hold in her gasp.
A gigantic Canus Elk stood about ten horse lengths away from them, nibbling at plants in the dirt. Ena stared at it in wonder, not daring to move a muscle. Its hide was covered in fluffy, stark-white fur, with not a drop of mud or crust of dirt anywhere to be seen. Its huge, branching antlers, which began as a light-brown color at the base and gradually turned silver at the tips, seemed to shine and sparkle in the light that filtered through the forest canopy. Not only that, but the Canus Elk was enormous. It was larger than most horses, and the breadth of its monstrous antlers spanned her entire body length.
She turned to Ty to find him staring at it in complete awe. He looked down at her and smiled so widely, with such boyish charm and excitement, that it caused her own smile to break across her face, taking joy in his joy. They stood silently and watched it for a while, until it wandered away on silent hooves.
Once it was out of sight, Ty signaled to her that they should keep walking, and they continued along the path.
“That was incredible,” he said. “I’ve never seen anything like it. What was it?”
“A Canus Elk. I’ve never seen one before either, but I’ve heard tales of them. They’re incredibly rare. Have you never heard of them in Yalta?” Ena asked.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “The land is less forested there, so we don’t get creatures like that. What else do you know about them?”
“Well, Canus Elks in general are said to be immortal—they’re impossible to hunt and kill, so they just never die. Seeing one is supposed to bring good fortune—it’s a blessing from Gaia. They’ve often been seen before major events, like the alliance between the Aquilo and Auster Covens, and before certain handfastings between powerful witches. And I know this one in particular was hungry and looking for chickweed.”
Ty laughed at that. “How do you know what it was looking for?”
“It’s…my Knowing. That innate sense that witches have. It allows us to…understand animals, plants, even water and rock to an extent. We can sense where they are, sometimes their intentions, by reading their signs.”
“What signs?”
“The signs that are all around—noises, movements, colors, that kind of thing. Mortals can sense them, too, but they are just heightened for witches, allowing us to read and understand their meanings more easily.”
