"Well," Freya said softly. "That was interesting."
"He's going to make things worse."
"Or better." Freya's voice held something knowing. "Bears don't defend people they don't care about, Chloe."
Chloe didn't answer. She watched the Mercantile door as her stomach twisted with nerves.
Paul's words echoed in her head.Prove it. Stop touching the soil. Let us see if things get better when you're not involved.
She'd spent her entire life trying to prove she belonged. Trying to earn acceptance through careful work and quiet competence. And it was never enough. There was always someone ready to blame her for things she couldn't control, especially when they found out about her. And by being a druid who knows nothing of her powers, it even meant being that way to others just like her.
But Corin had walked out that door without hesitation. Had gone to defend her even when she'd asked him not to.
16
CORIN
The Mercantile smelled like cedar and old wood and the particular mustiness of a building that had stood for over a century. Corin paused just inside the door, letting his eyes adjust to the dim interior.
Paul Whitmore stood at the counter, leaning in close to Rufus Tansley, his voice low but animated. Two other customers lingered nearby, clearly listening. The body language was unmistakable: gossip spreading like disease through a tree.
Corin's bear wanted to charge across the room and pin Paul to the wall. Wanted to bare his teeth and make it very clear what happened to people who threatened his mate.
But that wasn't how you handled things in Hollow Oak. This town ran on respect, on careful words, on the understanding that everyone had to live together long after any single conflict ended. If he came in here roaring, he'd make Chloe look like she needed defending. Like there was something to defend against.
Instead, he walked to the counter with measured steps, his boots steady on the wooden floor.
"Corin." Rufus straightened, his weathered face neutral. "What brings you in?"
"Heard there was some talk going around about the plant sickness." Corin kept his voice even, conversational. "Figured I should weigh in, seeing as my orchard's been hit hardest."
Paul's expression flickered. He shifted his weight, turning to face Corin with that same mask of reasonable concern he'd probably worn at Freya's shop.
"Just sharing what people are thinking," Paul said. "No harm in that."
"Depends on what you're sharing."
The other customers had gone quiet. Rufus watched with sharp eyes, his brother Edgar emerging from the back room to see what was happening.
"People are worried," Paul continued. "Plants dying all over town. And there's a newcomer with druid blood who's been working with all the affected gardens. Can't blame folks for connecting dots."
"You can when the dots don't connect."
"How do you figure?"
Corin let the silence stretch for a beat. When he spoke, his voice was calm. Steady. The same tone he used when calming a spooked hive.
"The sickness in my orchard started before Chloe ever set foot on my property. I noticed it during the cold snap, four days before she and I ever talked about the soil. She's been helping me track the spread, not causing it."
"You can't know that for certain."
"I can." Corin met Paul's eyes and held them. "I've been tending that land my whole life. Four generations of Vanes have worked that soil. I know what natural damage looks like, and I know what this is. It's not druidic. It's not Chloe. And spreading rumors that say otherwise isn't just wrong. It's harmful."
The room had gone very still.
Paul's jaw tightened. “Like I said earlier, I'm just voicing what everyone's thinking."
"But you’re the only was voicing it so publicly and that’ll do damage to someone who doesn't deserve it."
