His fingers drummed on the arm of his chair. “Let me see your hand.”
Arthur gazed at Ira as he cleaned and bandaged Arthur’s hand. At the flowers in his scar, there because Arthur had needed him.
Arthur fiddled with the silver acorn, thinking about all Ira had said about it. “How far is it to the heart of the wood?”
Ira shrugged. “Three days on foot. Maybe less, if you travel hard and don’t stop much.”
“What if we went there?”
Ira frowned. “What if—”
Arthur knelt at his feet, touching his knees.
“What if we went to the heart of the wood?” Arthur shifted closer. “What if we replanted it? What if we healed the forest? Then it would be safe, wouldn’t it, like it used to be whenDad came through every year? And nothing would happen to Lottie—I could find her, no matter how long it took, we could go home—and you could—”
“I can’t leave the vale.”
“You did, just now.”
Ira opened his mouth but closed it without saying anything, as if that hadn’t occurred to him.
“I did,” he said slowly.
Arthur nodded, fingers tightening on Ira’s knees.
“We could do it—I’m sure we could. You could keep me safe, and I could...” Arthur faltered, not sure what he might lend to the venture, but he recovered quickly. “Well, if you don’t transform, there’s no problem, right?”
Ira touched his scar uneasily. “I’m not sure about this. I might sprout more flowers just for leaving.”
“We’ll figure something out if it comes to that.”
“Maybe.”
Ira pried Arthur’s fingers from his knees. Blushing, Arthur skittered away and flung himself into his armchair.
“If I ordered the forest to regrow the bridge,” Ira said, “if it knew why we were leaving...”
“It might let us go?”
Ira’s brow furrowed. “It’s safer here.”
“For now. Isn’t that what you told me? That the sickness will spread here eventually?”
Ira’s fingers curled over the arms of his chair.
“Ira,” Arthur said gently, “I can’t stay.”
“Don’t you like it here?”
“I—well, I hadn’t thought about it,” Arthur said in astonishment. “It’s— That’s not the point. I promised my family I’d come home, but I haven’t, and now Lottie’s come to find me. I can’t let her die out here. Not if I can help it.”
A little hesitantly, he reached for Ira’s hand. There had beenso much touch between them, but Ira had initiated most of it. Ira threaded his fingers through Arthur’s; Arthur relaxed.
“And it could help you, too,” he said, “replanting the tree. You said so.”
“I said I thought it could.” Ira avoided his gaze. “I wasn’t like this, last time. What if...”
His jaw tightened. He swallowed.
