Da was in his chair by the fire, whittling a piece of wood as he puffed on his pipe. I sank down across from him and held out my hands to the fire.
The wood in Da’s hands was beginning to take the shape of a horse. Shards peppered the straw rug beneath him where he sat. I was certain it was for the grandchildren. It was unbelievable toconsider that Henrik had children now, a boy and a girl, and I’d never met them.
I’d learned from one of Henrik’s letters that Da had left sitting out that they would be visiting with the children in the summer months. It would be their first visit since they’d left. I would finally get to see my niece and nephew, and I was excited at the prospect, even if it would be a wholly one-sided exchange.
Da sighed after a while, looking up from his craft and rubbing the bridge of his nose. His gaze fixed contemplatively on the flickering fire, and I wondered what he was thinking. If it was about me. Did he grieve for me still? Did he grieve for me as much as I grieved for myself? Did anyone?
Despite the fading day, I lifted up from my chair. Wrapping myself in the wool blanket draped over the sofa—that magically reappeared arranged over the back again—I stepped out into the increasingly chilly night. Tilting my face, I sniffed at the air. Winter was coming, ready to sink its teeth into the world.
I walked slowly, my steps steady and measured as I advanced on the trees, boots crunching over the ground. Pulling the blanket tighter around me, I eased into the woods.
My feet moved without thought, carrying me to the spot where it all began—and ended.
I stopped where the trees loomed high around me, the Crags a distant outline against the harvest sky. I felt things here in this place where I had lost myself, this place where I’d felt seen, where I sensed a presence lurking, where furtive eyes tracked me. Eyes that did not belong to any animal, but to something else. Someone else. Some other creature that was not of the natural world but born of magic and spells and stardust.
“I know you’re there,” I breathed.
The air stirred in response, a wind surging, wrapping around me. Just me. The wind did not rustle the branches or leaves of nearby trees. It only coiled overmybody, winding like a serpent.
I stilled, letting that gust of air work over me.
Emboldened, I flung out, “Why don’t you come out and face me?”
The wind grew in hunger, catching and tangling in my hair, pulling dark strands loose of the braid wound into a coronet on my head.
“What are you waiting for? Face me! You hear me? I won’t go away! Not until you show yourself! Either kill me or unbind me from this spell!”
The wind whipped violently then, pelting me with leaves and twigs and other debris. I jammed my eyes tightly to protect them from the flying detritus, but still I held my ground.
Until it stopped.
All at once the wind died.
Deflated, I opened my eyes, shoulders sinking in disappointment as I took in the calm and serene trees. Whatever I’d felt, whatever had been there, was gone now.
11
Summer Solstice
Day 1,047
Henrik, Meya, and the children came as promised.
It was the first time in a long time Da smiled. The sun was out, and the air was warm, and the village buzzed with Midsummer festivities: dancing and feasting and games. Da and Henrik fished. Meya cooked while the children played on a rug in the kitchen. The house was bright and alive again, full of delicious and fragrant aromas and steady conversation and laughter.
One could almost forget the misery.
One who wasn’t me.
12
Ribbons at the Back
Day 1,462
Linnea married today.
She wore a wreath of ribbons and flowers in her hair and a dress far finer than anything she’d worn before. AnythingI’dworn before.
