Chloe walked without direction, her boots crunching on the frost-hardened path that wound through Hollow Oak's quieter streets. She didn't know where she was going. Didn't much care. She just needed to move, to burn off the sick feeling that had settled in her chest since leaving the Council chamber and the cold air helped.
What the hell did I do?
The question kept circling, unanswerable. She had spent her whole life trying to be useful, trying to prove she wasn't a threat and earn the trust that others seemed to receive simply by existing. And none of it mattered. Someone had decided she was the enemy, and now an entire town was paying the price.
She turned down a narrow lane that ran behind the Mercantile, seeking the privacy of the less-traveled paths. The buildings here were older, their stone walls thick with ivy that had gone brown for winter. A few delivery carts sat idle near back doors, waiting for morning routes. Voices drifted from around the corner.
Chloe slowed, not wanting to intrude on a private conversation. She was about to turn back when she heard her name.
"...Faelan girl's the common thread. Can't ignore that."
She froze.
The voice was familiar. Quiet, measured, with that particular steadiness she'd come to associate with reliability. Jasper Mince.
"You really think she's doing it on purpose?" A woman's voice, one Chloe didn't recognize.
"I'm not saying on purpose." Jasper's tone was regretful, almost sad. "But druid blood is unpredictable. Old magic, old connections. She might not even know what she's doing."
"She seems nice enough."
"Nice doesn't mean safe." A pause, the sound of something being set down. "I've been running deliveries through the affected areas for weeks now, along with Whitmore. And every single spot that's gotten worse, she's been there. Her hands in the soil, her touch on the plants. The sickness follows her like a shadow."
Chloe pressed herself against the cold stone wall, her heart pounding so hard she was sure they'd hear it.
Jasper. Quiet, helpful Jasper, who'd shown up at Corin's orchard with tools and sympathy and offers of assistance. Who'd sat in the Council meeting just an hour ago, expressing concern and promising to keep his eyes open. Who Corin had called reliable.
"What about that bear shifter? Corin?" The woman again. "He seems pretty convinced she's innocent."
"Corin's thinking with his heart, not his head. Can't blame him. She's pretty, she's vulnerable, and his bear's probably got ideas about protecting her." Jasper's voice dropped, almost conspiratorial. "But feelings don't change facts. The contamination started when she arrived. It's spreading wherevershe goes. And now she's got her hooks into one of our best families."
"The Vanes have always been solid."
"Exactly. Which is why it's so dangerous. If she's influencing Corin, using him to deflect suspicion, the whole town could suffer for it."
Chloe's hands were shaking. She pressed them flat against the stone, trying to steady herself.
This wasn't Paul Whitmore, who'd accused her to her face with barely concealed hostility. This was Jasper, who smiled and offered help and spoke softly at Council meetings about doing what was right. This was someone she'd thought was decent.
"What do you think we should do?" the woman asked.
"I don't know. It's not my place to say." Jasper sighed heavily. "But if she really valued this town, she'd leave. Take whatever's following her somewhere else. Give Hollow Oak a chance to heal."
"That seems harsh."
"Maybe. But sometimes the kindest thing you can do is walk away." Another pause. "I'm not saying she's evil. I'm saying she's dangerous, whether she means to be or not. And the longer she stays, the worse things are going to get."
Footsteps. Movement. Chloe held her breath as the voices faded, moving away toward the main square.
She stood there for a long moment, alone in the narrow lane, her back against the cold stone and her thoughts spiraling.
Jasper believed what he was saying. She could hear it in his voice, that quiet conviction, that sorrowful certainty. He wasn't spreading malicious gossip like Paul. He was sharing genuine concerns with what sounded like genuine regret.
And that was somehow worse.
Malice she could fight. Malice she could dismiss as ignorance or prejudice or fear. But this? This was a good man, a trustedmember of the community, looking at the evidence and drawing a logical conclusion.
The contamination started when she arrived. It's spreading wherever she goes. If she cared about this town, she'd leave.
