Her mother patted the witch hunter soothingly on the shoulder and moved past him to start the tea. Tea was her solution to most of life’s disappointments.
Rowan moved to the table, hooked the stool with her foot, and sat down to quarter the apple she’d found that afternoon on one of the trees behind the village.
“You overpaid him,” she said to the witch hunter. “He’d have done it for half that.”
“I needed him motivated.” He frowned. “He smelled like liquor.”
She slid a slice of apple into her mouth. The witch hunter tracked the movement, his gaze lingering on her lips. Maybe he was hungry. He ate like a hog. She offered him the next slice when he sat across from her at the table, but he waved it off.
Chewing slowly, she took in his crestfallen expression. “You really think your men are still alive?”
“I hope so.” He dragged a hand through his hair. It didn’t even really mess it up. “Witches distort the natural world around them. It makes it easy to get lost even when you know the land well. Once we were separated, they may not have been able to find their way back. It doesn’t mean they’re dead.”
He sounded like he was trying to convince himself of that as much as her.
“You’re certain there’s a witch though?”
She really wanted him to say no.
“How can you doubt it?” Casrian searched her face.
She sliced another chunk of apple. “I admit the woods have changed. When we first got here, the water was clear and the trees were healthy. We didn’t get any dangerous animals on this side of the river unless the winter was particularly bad. You could walk for days without any trouble at all. It’s not like that anymore. But that doesn’t mean it has to be a witch, does it?”
“What else?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.”
He waved a hand at the dark line of trees out the window. “It’s a witch. The woods. The familiar. My missing men. You can taste the rot in the air. Feel it on your skin. If you can’t sense it, it means you’ve been steeping in it too long already.”
A shiver ran down her spine. She sensed it. She’d been sensing it for months. And telling herself it wasn’t real.
“If you can’t find anyone to go with you, what will you do?”
“I’ll find someone.”
She shook her head. “There are a lot of idiots in Toam, but no one’s that stupid.”
“How well do you know the woods?”
She glared at him. “I’mnot going with you.”
“Of course not. You’re a woman.”
Asshole.
“I just need information. You say the woods have changed. When did it begin? Where did it start? Are there any shelters, like a large cave or an abandoned building, where a witch might make a nest?”
“A nest?”
“A home. A base. They’re demons, but they wear the skin of human women. They still need shelter.”
Her blood went cold. Because of the horrific image his words conjured. And because she did actually know of a place like that. “There’s a fort.”
His attention locked on her. Bright blue eyes fixed on her face. It felt like looking down the shaft of an arrow.
“What fort?”
She considered telling him to fuck off, just on the principle of the thing, but she needed to know what was wrong with the woods. Whether it was safe to stay. Whether they should start running now. She figured she could be civil for a little while longer.
