A tangle of greenery dropped into the snow before them, startling the mule. Elspeth quieted him but drew closer to Charlotte. The greenery stretched over them menacingly.
Almost menacingly. It wobbled as it grew, half frozen, the tips of its leaves and vines black with cold.
Then it sneezed: curled in on itself, shivered violently, and exploded. Vines, leaves, and flowers unspooled around it. Elspeth dragged Charlotte back with a curse, but the plant thing flopped in the snow. It clicked miserably, so softly Charlotte almost thought she was imagining it.
Handing Elspeth her cane, she approached.
“Lottie,” Elspeth said sharply, but Charlotte crouched in the snow with difficulty.
A tendril shot up, swaying in her direction. It curled back in a moment later, shivering. The plant creature reminded her of Freya. Not as she was now, but as she’d been three years ago: a scrawny kitten hiding under the Throckmorton-Prentices’ chicken coop, hissing when Charlotte found her.
Charlotte held out a hand. “It’s all right. We won’t hurt you.”
“What’re you doing?” Elspeth said incredulously.
“I think it’s cold.”
The tendril uncurled, reaching for Charlotte’s hand, and made contact. It wrapped around her wrist.
“That’s right,” Charlotte said soothingly.
“We’recold, Lottie. Leave it be. It’s some sort of eldritch—something.”
Various appendages dragged themselves toward Charlotte, seeking warmth. The plant creature pulled itself into her arms and snuggled into her. Charlotte wasn’t sure what it was, exactly, but it seemed harmless now.
“Why, it’s nothing but a houseplant. Let’s take it with us.”
She rose on joints stiff with cold. The plant creature slung down several vines; the extra support stabilized her.
Elspeth stared.
“What?” Charlotte said.
“Whoareyou?”
Charlotte flushed, but she cradled the greenery in her arms. It had been the same with Freya. The children had been over the moon about their new pet but seemed to have expected her to turn it out of the house because she wouldn’t let the cat sit on the table. Arthur had been astonished she’d brought a cat inside in the first place. Did people think she was heartless?
“Let’s get on with it, shall we?”
Elspeth shook her head but handed Charlotte’s cane back without further objection. As they rounded a bend in the snow,the unmistakable signs of habitation distracted her entirely from Charlotte’s new pet.
Everything was half buried, like no one had been here in some time. The little stone well and matching oven. The table with crates jumbled beneath it. The laundry line. Scattered stools not unlike one Arthur had made for Charlotte in recent months, albeit more soundly constructed.
In the face of a massive, bulbous oak tree ahead was a door.
“We made it,” Elspeth breathed. “We’re here.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s like Gran’s stories. ’Cept for all the snow, I guess.”
Releasing the mule’s bridle, Elspeth stumbled toward the door as if in a trance. Charlotte hesitated, wondering whether she should see to the animals, but went after her. Tendrils unfurled from the greenery to telescope in the direction of the tree.
Elspeth wrenched the door open.
“Elspeth—”
She’d already disappeared inside. Charlotte heard her clomping around, callinghello, so it seemed she hadn’t met an untimely end. Nonetheless, Charlotte was cautious as she ducked inside.
