The accidental theft had happened just down the street at Mezec’s shop when Strelka had been trying to secure inks for Weyland. Alison herself had been a prime suspect in the crime, having only just arrived in town. “They questioned me,” she said. The questioning had been a farce, but they had done it, nonetheless. “What’s happened now?”
“I heard it from Mr. Rainey that they’re after that thatcher from Fossholm, Mr. Craig. They say he scammed someone in Fossholm out of their coin, and he’s on the run,” said Charlotte as she brought over the heart-shaped biscuits.
“These are really pretty,” said Rinka, admiring the frosting on a biscuit a moment before stuffing the entire thing into her mouth. “Taste good too,” she said before tearing into the next one.
“Did you say Mr. Craig?” asked Alison. “He tried to rip me off in the spring when my roof was leaking. Keir had to talk him down.”
“You should tell the detectives that,” said Mrs. Knox. “They’re staying at the inn.”
“Did you hear that Mezec is bringing one of the korrigans to your wedding?” asked Charlotte.
Alison sat back, sipped her tea, and nibbled on the wonderful biscuits Mrs. Knox and Charlotte had made while she listened to all of the gossip, grateful for a day of girly chat.
Afterwards, they headed down to the forge to see Weyland. She had three purposes to her visit: to collect Keir’s ring, to drop of her updated manuscript so Weyland could finish the illustrations, and to ask him for the small favor of officiating her wedding.
Weyland was happy to give her the ring—it was just what she asked for—and thrilled to work on the manuscript again.
“This is a new one,” he said, holding up the last poem Alison had added. It was a bit of a different style from the others.
The world is never more silent
Than it is in winter.
The dizzying traffic of everyday
Slowed to almost nothing.
A flit of wings. A snap of branch.
Time stands still.
Only thoughts remain.
Dreaming of spring,
Arms outstretched,
Yearning for rebirth.
But the ice grows in the cracks,
Filling them. Holding them.
Trapped at first, but slowly finding peace.
Acceptance.
Lost in the frozen moment,
Listening.
A pair of footsteps, soft,
Are moving closer.
A light shines through glittering branches.
They drip and bend,
