Page 8 of The Withering Wood

The bear grumbled, as if in reluctant agreement.

Eirwen briefly smiled before her brows arched with concern. “The swelling isn’t going down.”

Cerise looked at her muscled and scarred leg, an ache persisting in her knee from the overexertion of the day, skin bulbous around the joint.

“There’s a small bottle of Idle Lily’s Honey left; I can get it if⁠—”

“No. I’ll be fine.”

“But, Cerise⁠—”

“I said no.” Cerise tensed from jaw to toe at the thought of it touching her body. She’d seen the damage it could do.

Eirwen sighed again but didn’t respond as she rolled Cerise’s pants back down. Flicking the last traces of ice from her fingers, she ran her hand through the bear’s pelt.

A brief burst of envy seared through Cerise at the ease with which Eirwen trusted it. She remembered the soft warm fur beneath her hand this morning, the steady reassurance it brought in the few precious moments before she found the rune. How nice it would be to feel the comfort of living warmth, rather than what was brought from the flames or dead animals’ hides.

It would take more than one day for her to trust this creature. And she needed answers about the runes before she could even consider it. But perhaps they could cordially coexist, for now.

“Bear,” Cerise locked eyes with the beast, feeling idiotic for speaking to it, despite the evidence it understood. “If you remain peaceful and continue to bring us uncorrupted food, you can share our hearth. But one paw or tooth out of line, and Beloved will rip through your neck. Understood?”

It huffed, then once again covered its snout with its paws.

Good enough.

Eirwen smiled, and it was brighter than the fire’s flickering flames.

Chapter Three

The next morning started as it should. Wanting to keep an eye on the beast, Cerise didn’t sleep in her room again. Both her and the creature slept near the fire, subconscious minds drawing them closer for warmth. Yet every time Cerise awoke, finding herself nearer the bear, she scooched away.

Several hours passed before she could fully fall asleep, mind and body unable to shut down with the creature so close. Yet eventually, fatigue won over, and she plunged into fitful rest.

Hazy lilac light shone through the windows at daybreak, filtered by a steady fall of thick snowflakes. Cerise slid away from the bear while sitting up, reaching for fresh wood to restoke the fire. As she moved, the beast huffed and averted its gaze, as if rejected.

“Don’t take it to heart. You’re a bear.”

It grumbled, yet as it stared at the growing flames, a sadness lingered in its eyes.

Cerise retrieved the woodcutting axes and sharpening stone, and then returned to the hearth to sharpen Beloved and the axes. The bear watched her work in silence, nothing more than the sounds of the delicate yet sharp slide of stone against metal and crackles of burning wood filling the cabin. The pleasure of routine, satisfaction of sharp blades, and the bear’s somehow gentle presence brushed a peace over her.

When Eirwen rose, her sister collected water and placed it over the fire to boil for their morning tea. While they waited for the frigid water to heat, Eirwen worked on Cerise’s leg, pulling out the cold that stiffened her knee during the night.

The bear remained in its place, shifting positions and watching their routine with calm.

Perhaps they could make a new normal with this creature.

Maybe she could fashion a pack for it, have it help carry wood on days she chopped trees. It could accompany her when fishing, checking traps, and measuring the curses’ spread. If she treated it well enough, perhaps it would protect her when they came across living, corrupted creatures, and she wouldn’t have to fight alone.

Maybe it could help her scratch away the runes, if its claws grew out.

Her body relaxed at the thought of a shared burden.

After a breakfast of eggs, root vegetables, and herbal tea, Cerise layered herself in furs and hides for the day, strapping woodcutting axes to her sash and walking with Beloved. Eirwen, resistant to the cold, followed Cerise outside in thin clothes, frost crunching between her toes. With the grace of a ghost, Eirwen fluttered to the coop to check on their chickens, where she’d start her daily rounds of care for their pets, garden, and home. Cerise, as always, strolled to the perimeter fence to ensure posts were stable and uncorrupted. The bear strayed behind her, seeming content to watch them work.

Until Cerise tapped the first wood post.

The bear huffed, a low growl in its throat, and slapped its paws on the ground.