“Where is he, little guy?” I ask softly.
He chirps twice, then scurries to the bedroom door, clawing at the wood.
My chest tightens. He wouldn’t leave without telling me. Not after last night. Not after the promise he made: “I will end him, Saelûn, I swear it on every star that watches us.”
A cold realization washes over me—he’s hunting.
I move toward the hearth to rekindle the fire, and find a folded piece of birch bark resting on the stone. It’s weighed down by a sprig of lavender and a few delicate, snowdrop petals:
Saelûn,
I didn’t want to wake you. You needed rest after last night. Your body is still healing, and the fever will rise again. You’re probably already feeling it creep back up.
There’s a pouch of crushed winter-leaf by the tub—empty it into cool water; it will draw some of the heat from your blood.
Please eat what I’ve left for you. There’s honey by your mug.
I am close, walking the perimeter to ensure the wards are undisturbed and checking for any sign of him.
You are safe. Stay inside the cabin. Please.
I’ll be home soon.
— Your vaer’shûn.
My heart stutters at that word.Home.A concept I haven’t let myself touch since the day Anna’s light went out.
My fingers curl tightly around the bark. He’s out there alone, tracking a man who knows how to slip past everything in this forest without making so much as a sound.
I press the note to my heart and glance at the door. A giant rune is etched into the grain. It’s beautiful—shimmering gold ink that pulses like a slow, steady heartbeat.
He must have carved a final layer of protection before he left. I press my palm to the design, and iciness seeps into my skin—so familiar it brings tears to my eyes.
Toffee sits next to it, his tail flicking like a metronome. I know Andrik asked me to stay, but something inside of me is screaming that if I don’t find him now, I never will.
I may be safe in here... but I have a feeling he may not be.
I take a slow step toward the door. Toffee lets out a growl, a warning I’ve never heard from him.
Saevel lunges, darting in front of me, and rams his shoulder into my shin. It’s not enough to hurt, but it’s enough to make me stumble back.
“Hey!” I blink down at him, but he’s already circling me, pressing his body against my ankles like a living barricade.
“Saevel, move! We need to check on him.”
He looks up at me, and for a second, all I can see is Andrik’s soul in his eyes. There is a shimmer of pleading in them.
I try to take another step. Saevel shoves me again, more firmly this time. A low, throaty hum rises from his chest.
“You’re not letting me go, are you?” I whisper.
He leans his full weight against me, securing me to the floor of the home he was told to guard.
I exhale shakily and lower myself to the floor, my resolve crumbling under the weight of a fox who carries part of Andrik’s soul. Saevel crawls into my lap and lets out a contented purr.
“Okay,” I murmur, scratching behind both of his ears. “I’ll stay. You win.” His tail flicks once, and then he nudges his cold nose into my growling belly.
He’s like Andrik, alright—stubborn, and entirely focused on my comfort.
