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She nods slowly, like she’s writing it all down in her head.
“And he can never, ever mention his mama.”
She smiles. “Fair.”
“And…” I lean in and lower my voice, even though we’re the only ones in here. Fuck it. “I want him hung.”
There’s a pause, Mother Wren’s mouth twitching. “How hung?”
Another whisper from me, “Very.”
She chuckles. “Sweetheart, I always build generous. Anything else?”
“He has to be good to me.” It comes out way quieter than I meant it to. “Like, really good to me. Not just putting up with me. I want someone who’s happy I’m there.” My heart squeezes at my words.
She nods, then looks at me for a long second, her dark eyes a little too knowing for my comfort.
“How tall?” she finally asks with a kind smile, and I could hug her for pushing that heavy moment past us.
“Tall.” I hold my hand way above my head. “Like, really tall.”
“Mm.” She picks her chisel back up, and taps the handle on her chin. “I’ll need the right wood.”
I laugh at her words. “Okay. Sure. How much?”
She names a price. It’s not nothing, but it’s way less than the Tolleys would’ve wanted for a dowry, so I count the coins on the counter, still grinning, because all this is ridiculous. Literally the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.
She sweeps the coins without counting them.
“Come back at the full moon.”
“That’s in two weeks.”
She just holds my gaze.
“Okay. Full moon. Thanks, Mother Wren.”
She waves me off, already back to her work.
I grab my basket, reach for the door handle… and something hoots.
When I look down, the little wooden owl is sitting on the windowsill right next to me, and it was definitely not there when I walked into the store. It turns its head all the way around, looks me dead in the eye… and blinks.
“What the fuck,” I whisper.
“Language,” Mother Wren mumbles. “And don’t mind him. He’s nosy.”
I’m out that door so fast the bell’s still ringing when I hit the street.
So either I just paid an old lady a month’s worth of honey for a really big puppet… or I just wasted that money…
* * *
The storm hits right after midnight. I wake up to my shutters banging and the whole cottage creaking around me. Rain’s pounding on the roof, lightning flashing through the cracks, and the thunder is so loud I can feel it in my teeth. I fix my bonnet and pull the blanket up to my chin.
I’ve lived next to this forest my whole life, and I’ve been through a lot of storms. But this one? The wind is howling, branches snapping left and right, the leak in my roof is dripping into the bucket faster and faster, and out in the meadow, my hive covers are rattling so hard I’m praying they hold.
Then, somewhere deep in the woods, there’s a sound I’ve never heard before. A crack, long and slow and so loud it’s like the whole world is splitting in half. Then a groan. And finally a crash so powerful that it shakes my bed.
