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Wolves, humans and hrafmaer alike gathered to watch the strange procession as it entered Eahalr. First came Flannað and Thrigg, with Arketh held carefully between them on a comfortable stretcher. Rostfar, Mati and Isha followed close behind, and Grae and Kristan brought up the rear. Yrsa slid noiselessly from the trees and paced beside Grae, her eyes fixed on Arketh as if she were the Speaking Tree incarnate.
Aethren met them at the stone hut. Their face was still bone-pale, but the haunted expression in their eyes had gone. At least for now. They anxiously tugged their fingers through unkempt hair and held the entry curtain aside.
"It – it's all ready," they said. "I've done what I can to make it comfy. I didn't know what you'd need, but . . ." they made an uncertain gesture with both hands.
"You've done really well," Rostfar smiled, and was pleased when Aethren mustered a smile in return.
She went inside first. A fire crackled in the hearth pit, wafting out the scent of fresh-cut young pine. Aethren had moved the pallet bed away from the wall so there was space around it, and piled up what must have been every single pillow in Eahalr on top of it.
"Do you need anything else?" Aethren asked. Rostfar was glad they'd posed the question; she was wondering the same thing, but her chest was too full of emotion to let her speak.
"This will be fine," Thrigg said softly. Her voice was hushed.
"We need as few as possible in here, though," Flannað added. "It may be overwhelming for the girl when she wakes up."
Rostfar swallowed so hard she felt something click inside her throat. She looked back at her family and friends, stricken. Of all the choices she had made these last months, why was this one so difficult?
"We'll wait outside," Aethren said, and plucked on Kristan's sleeve. The two of them left, letting the curtain fall shut behind them.
Gloom descended, but it wasn't a bad sort of gloom. The only natural light filtered down through the chimney, and the fire's glow turned everything soft and hazy.
“We need to get started,” Flannað said. “The weave around her won’t hold much longer without Ylla to maintain it.”
Rostfar made herself nod. She stepped aside. The stretcher floated itself forwards and hovered still as Flannað and Thrigg lifted Arketh onto the bed. Once done, Flannað left. Thrigg remained standing by the bed.
At last, Rostfar allowed herself to look down at her daughter.
Arketh looked smaller than Rostfar remembered. Her hands folded over her stomach and her hair haloed out around her head. It had grown. Rostfar wanted to touch those soft curls, but she was afraid. She wouldn't be able to bear it if they dissolved beneath her fingers as they had in the eðir. Her heart ached with love and bittersweet relief. Not joy, not yet. That would come later.
“Will she be okay?” Rostfar asked Thrigg without looking away from Arketh's peaceful face.
“She has seen a lot – more than some will see in a lifetime, but . . .” Thrigg twisted her hands together, looking down at Arketh tenderly. “She has a good family. I am sure she will recover.”
Rostfar nodded and took a trembling step forwards. Her knees felt like water as she knelt. She might have collapsed, but Mati and Isha each supported her on either side.
"It's alright," Mati murmured by her ear, too soft for anyone aside from the three of them to hear. Slowly, gingerly, Rostfar reached out. Arketh’s skin felt warm beneath Rostfar’s fingers as she brushed back a few sticking-up locks of hair.
“A good family isn’t always enough,” Grae said abruptly. Rostfar turned to him, shocked.
"Grae—" Yrsa started in a low voice, showing a flash of teeth. Rostfar watched Yrsa send a sharp, urgent pulse of Quiet through the wyrdness, even though Grae couldn't see it.
“A family can be good, but they might not help,” Grae hastened to add. There was desperation in his voice. "She needs you to accept and understand her pain, to help her through it. Without judgement."
Isha tensed, but Rostfar put her hand over his. She knew what Grae didn’t want to say – nobody had helped him until it was too late. He wanted better for Arketh.
“I know. I will,” Rostfar told him softly. Grae bowed his head in relief and gratitude. Rostfar turned to Thrigg. “Tell me what to do.”
“Reach for the wyrdness, and for her.” Thrigg motioned to Isha and Mati. “Put a hand on Rostfar’s shoulders to lend her your strength. It will help.”
“Is that okay, Rost?” Isha asked tentatively.
Rostfar nodded and laid her hands on Arketh’s chest – one over her heart, which beat slower than it should, and one at the base of her throat. Mati and Isha’s hands were reassuring weights on her shoulders.
“I’m ready,” Rostfar said, because if she didn’t say anything then she might sit here in silence until the end of the Bloom.
She closed her eyes and let her thoughts reach.
The wyrdness responded; not with vibrant life as it had in the past, but like a wounded animal. It limped warily towards Rostfar and sniffed up against the very edges of her mind. It’s alright, she told it. There’s no pain this time, only life.
Bit by bit, the warmth of the wyrdness seeped in – and her consciousness seeped out. She hadn’t opened her eyes, but she could see a moth perched on Arketh’s chest. It looked up at her with soulful brown eyes, curious and unafraid.
“It’s time to come home. I'm here,” Rostfar whispered, not sure if she'd spoken aloud or through the wyrdness. She had to remind herself to breathe. The moth walked tentatively over Rostfar's hand. It moved across Arketh's chest, curled up in the notch between Arketh’s collar bones, and faded from sight.
Arketh opened her eyes.
For a moment she didn’t seem to know herself. Blank fear covered her face like a baby's caul. She stared up at Rostfar with wide, unfocused eyes, and her breathing stopped. Then she inhaled sharply. Her expression of fear softened to groggy bewilderment.
“It’s me, Ket,” Rostfar said, and remembered saying those very same words on a windy clifftop, a million years and a season ago. “And your papas, and my new friends. We're all here.”
Arketh sat up slowly, blinking around at the faces in the room. At Mati, Isha and Rostfar. At Yrsa and Grae. At Thrigg. A look of pure wonder lit up her eyes.
“You’re all real,” Arketh murmured. She lifted one hand and let it hover there, as if she didn't know who to reach for first. Mati took her small fingers in his large ones and pressed them to his lips. "You have hair now. I didn't know you could have hair." Arketh frowned and reached with her free hand to pat the top of Isha's head.
"Yes, I have hair." He leaned down to make it easier for her with a noise that was half sob, half laugh.
Finally, Arketh looked at Rostfar. And then she launched herself up with all the strength she could muster. Rostfar caught Arketh in an embrace that seemed to last forever. She pressed her face into the top of Arketh's head, and felt Mati and Isha's hands clasp her shoulders with comforting pressure.
“We’re going to be safe now?" Arketh whispered, her breath – her warm, living breath – tickling Rostfar's neck. "No more hiding?”
“No more hiding,” Rostfar said and knew, for better or for worse, that it was true.
