“…be all right?” Gracie’s voice, high and worried.
A quieter response from the witch, too low to catch.
“But when?” His sister sounded as though she’d been crying.
Hayden smelled scorched hair, felt the dig of sticks beneath his shoulders. He was lying on the ground. He tried to open his eyes, to reassure Gracie that he was fine, that he’d only taken a bit of a knock and would be well soon.
His body wouldn't respond. His eyelids remained shut tight, his tongue immovable as a stone in his mouth. He breathed, and that was all.
* * *
Next time he rose to the surface of consciousness he was lying on a soft pallet.
“Poor, foolish man.” Nissa’s voice, low and sorrowful. Her cool hand upon his cheek. “We never had a chance…” Her breath caught. “At least you’ll have Gracie to look after you.”
There was something here he didn't understand. His fuzzy thoughts fumbled after it, but the notion had already escaped.
* * *
Hayden awoke, managing to pry open his eyes, though it felt like his eyelids were made of stone. He was surprised to see the sturdy wood beams of the common room over his head and not the curved roof of his own aerie.
Experimentally, he twitched his fingers and toes, relieved that they responded. From somewhere nearby came the clink of metal, then the sound of vegetables being chopped.
He rolled to his side, groaning, and was glad to see Gracie in the kitchen area. She whirled, eyes wide.
“Hayden!” She rushed to his side and knelt beside him. To his distress, she began to cry.
“Hush,” he said hoarsely. His throat felt as though he'd swallowed a thornbush. He managed to raise his arm and pat her on the shoulder.
“I thought I’d lost you.” Her voice shook. “When we brought you back from the forest, you were barely breathing. You’ve been unconscious for two whole days.”
Two days? Fear sliced through him. Tomorrow the year and the day would be up. The witch would sacrifice him and his sister. Put to the knife, just like Tom Turkey, and despite all his efforts, they hadn’t been able to get away.
He sat, though his muscles screamed at the motion.
“Where is she?” he asked from between clenched teeth.
“Here,” Nissa’s cool voice responded from the doorway.
He stared at her, absently noting the echo of sorrow and weariness in her features.
“Let us go,” he said. “At least let Gracie go. If you have to make a sacrifice it should be me.”
The witch glanced at Gracie, her mouth tightening, then her gaze returned to Hayden. “You should not have tested the barrier.”
“I had to.”
She gave a single nod, her eyes locked with his.
Silence descended, full of unsaid words. After a moment, Gracie rose and went to stand before the witch. With surprise, Hayden saw that his sister had grown since their arrival. She and Nissa were the same height.
“I know you can't tell us,” Gracie said, her gaze fixed on the witch's face, “but is there anything you could give us that might help?”
A look of despair, as bleak as a frozen landscape, settled over Nissa’s expression. She shook her head, then whirled and hurried up the stairs. If he hadn't known better, Hayden would have thought she was about to burst into tears.
“You've upset her,” his sister said, going to fetch him a bowl of broth.
“I've upset her?” He blinked. “I’m the one who got hurt.”
Gracie ladled out the soup, then returned and gently handed him the bowl. “Yes. But she didn't mean to harm you. You should’ve seen how carefully she tended you while you were unconscious. There's something going on here, more than meets the eye.”
“What?” he asked, half-remembering Nissa’s touch upon his face. He lifted the bowl of broth shakily to his lips.
“I'm not sure.” Gracie settled beside him. “But we don’t have much time to figure it out.”
“Tomorrow the bargain is ended,” he said. “She means to sacrifice us to the Stone.”
She tilted her head. “Does she? Truly, Hayden. There’s something here we’re not seeing.”
“You’re too kind.” He took another swallow of soup. “Do you think she’s planning to shove us into the oven, bake us up like ritual loaves?”
“Stop it.”
“Then what?” he demanded, despair settling in the pit of his stomach. “What is going to happen to us?”
“I don't know.” Gracie looked out the door, where the silver light of evening was dimming to twilight and sleepy robins chirped in the branches. “I only hope we all survive it.”