“I saw a Brag mating stall once,” John adds. “Interesting.”
Now I believe I am imitating the red fruit in every way save for the seeds.
“We trust you will reach the Bluecap lair without further incident,” John says as Warden holds out his arm for me to climb on his back.
“I do too,” Warden replies. “Thank you for the apples.”
I do my best to hide a smile at his response. As long as Warden has apples, and now it appears, me, he is a happy Brag.
His joy fills me. Soon I will be reunited with my sister and perhaps finally get some answers. But even if I don’t, it won’t matter. Because I have Warden, and having him in my life has given me so much more than I ever had before.
At least that’s how I feel in my very bones.
The landscape feels different after the storm and after our slightly longer stay than intended. It seems somehow cleansed, washed, ready for a new start.
The moorlands have given way to rolling pasture. We walk slowly down a lane, enclosed on each side by mottled grey stones carefully curated into walls, and the entire thing ribbons out ahead of us, emerald green fields on either side where farm animals graze.
“This could be home,” I say quietly as Warden clops along.
“Beyond the veil? Is it like this?”
“Some parts of it are. Not all. Some parts are just concrete and glass.”
“I’m not sure I like the idea of that,” Warden says.
I contemplate his answer for a while.
“No, I don’t think I liked it much either.”
“You don’t want to go back? Beyond the veil?”
“If my sister is here, if you’re here, why would I want to go back?”
Warden rumbles in his chest.
“You didn’t really think I would leave, did you?”
“What you choose to do, my lady, is entirely up to you,” Warden says. “I have hope in my heart you would choose the Yeavering.”
“And the Night Lands?”
“You care for them?”
“The Night Lands is the only part of the Yeavering I know.” I look around me. “Until now.”
“The Night Lands are my home,” Warden says. “I could not leave them.”
“I still have a tavern to run.”
“Then it is decided.”
We lapse into a comfortable silence save for Warden’s hooves on the track which winds higher up to the top of the valley. As we crest the hill, something feels…wrong. Warden feels it too, and he comes to a halt.
“What is it?”
“Something…I’m not sure. I believe you may need to use your sword,” he says.
I slip from his back, and Warden changes to his human form. I’m struck how a place which seems so benign can swiftly become dangerous. But then, as Warden has pointed out before, this is the Yeavering. Nothing can be taken for granted.
