"No."
"Mites?"
"Checked. Clean."
Elias ran a thumb along the warped edge, his expression unreadable. "How many hives?"
"Four. Maybe five by now."
"Since when?"
"Noticed it this morning, but it probably started earlier." Corin crossed his arms, then uncrossed them. Couldn't seem to find a comfortable position. "The cold snap masked it."
Elias set the frame back in the crate and turned to face him fully. That silver gaze swept over Corin's face, reading him the way he read a jobsite, looking for cracks, stress points, places where things might give.
"What else?"
"What do you mean?"
"You're wound tight." Elias leaned against the workbench, arms folded. "And you drove all the way out here instead of calling. So what else is going on?"
Corin's jaw tightened. He should have known better than to think he could slip anything past Elias. The man had spent years running night patrol, protecting Hollow Oak from threats most residents never saw. His instincts were honed sharp enough to cut.
"The orchard beds are showing the same thing," Corin admitted. "Soil's gone sour. Plants struggling. And Freya's herbs behind the apothecary are the same story."
Elias's eyes narrowed slightly. "You talked to Freya?"
"This morning. Dropped off honey." Corin hesitated. "Chloe was there. Her winter starts are failing too."
Something flickered in Elias's expression. "The herbalist. The one with the druid blood."
"That's what people say."
"What do you say?"
Corin shrugged. "I say she knows plants better than most witches I've met. And she felt the soil the same way I did. Whatever this is, she's not imagining it."
Elias studied him for a long while. Corin resisted the urge to shift his weight, to look away, to do anything that might betray the unease coiling in his gut.
"Winter losses happen," Elias said finally. "You know that."
"This isn't winter losses."
"Then what is it?"
"I don't know." The words came out harder than Corin intended. His bear stirred beneath his skin, a low rumble of frustration that wanted out. "That's the problem. I don't know what it is, and I don't really know how to fix it."
He stopped. Breathed.
Elias waited.
"The bees are confused," Corin said, quieter now. "Not sick. Not dying. Just... lost. Like they've forgotten what they're supposed to be doing. And the soil feels dead where it should feel dormant. There's a difference."
"I know there's a difference."
"Then you know this isn't normal."
Elias nodded slowly. "I know."
