“Ah.”
Miraculously, he seemed to find that answer both reasonable and sufficient.
“Would you like help . . .” He looked around the cottage, as if cataloging all the myriad things she could possibly need help with, which was, at a rough estimate, everything. “. . . settling in?”
Absolutely not. The last thing she wanted him to do was stay and help. The entire point of coming to Caltrey was to hide away in a place where she knew no one and no one knew her, and she and Caz and the books would be safe. “Thanks, but we—Ihave it covered.”
He raised his eyebrows as if he didn’t believe her, but he didn’t argue or try to convince her otherwise, which she appreciated. “Well, if you change your mind, I’m just through the woods, down by the shore.” He waved toward the northwest. “It’s the merhorse farm with the yellow house near the water. Drop by any time.”
She had absolutely zero intention of ever doing that, but she thanked him. Best not to be rude to their new neighbor. Especially if it got him to leave faster.
He left, taking his scythe, and she watched him out the window, through a hole in the ivy, as he strolled away. A few minutes later, the green had swallowed him entirely.
Chapter Three
Caz climbed down from the rafters. When he reached the floor, Kiela scooped him up, and he let her. He patted her back with one of his tendrils. When her heart had calmed down enough, she lowered him back to the floor.
“Sorry,” she said.
“It’s fine. I was so startled that I nearly lost half my soil ball.”
She examined him. He still seemed as leafy as ever. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. I can get more. Lots of nutrients in the earth here. It’s much richer than in Alyssium. You should eat something. And perhaps bathe.”
“Ouch.”
“I can’t help what I smell.”
“You don’t even have a nose.” Or ears. Or eyes. Or a mouth. He was a dog-size pot-less plant who defied all natural laws. She wished she’d been able to study the spell that had created him. It had to have been fascinatingly complex. All she knew was he’d begun as a single spider plant seed. She’d never asked what other ingredients were involved. It seemed too personal a question.
“Now who’s being insulting,” Caz said.
“Sorry.” Subtly, she sniffed her own armpits. She smelled like the sea and sweat. A fresh shirt would help. She should have packed more than a few changes of clothes.
“At least he seems friendly,” Caz said. “Until he comes back to murder us in our sleep.”
Kiela glanced at the door again. “I don’t think he plans to do that.”I hope.After the initial scare, he’d taken pains not to startle her. Most likely, he was just nosy and intrusive rather than actively dangerous.It’s not his fault he’s tall and ten times stronger than me.He probably had no idea how he looked, unexpected in the dark. He hadn’t been trying to loom over her.
“That was a large blade he carried.”
Indeed it was. Very alarming. Cityfolk didn’t carry that kind of equipment around, at least not usually. To be fair, she didn’t really know what most people carried around, since she hadn’t spent any time out on the streets or canals in years. Maybe scythes were in fashion. Who knew? Most likely, though, Larran carried it for practical reasons. Whatever paths used to lead to the cottage had been swallowed by the forest years ago. It wouldn’t have been easy for him to reach the house without the scythe. “He must use it to hack through the overgrowth,” Kiela said.
Caz shuddered. “Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.”
“I’d never let anyone hurt you,” Kiela said stoutly.
“That’s a nice sentiment, but what would you do? Scream? Throw books at them?”
Fair point, though she’d never throw a book. With luck, he wouldn’t come back, and it wouldn’t be an issue. Instead of replying, she chose to look around the cottage. Now that it was daylight, she could see it was . . . “unkempt” was the kindest adjective she could think of. Run-down. Derelict. Disheveled. Neglected.
Unloved.
Barely remembered.
Abandoned for years.
Alone.
