Icy raindrops lingered on leaf tops when Sanna strolled by the next morning, hand outstretched. Luteis kept a wing draped over her most of the night. She slept cozily tucked against his leg, warm and dry when she woke up despite the sleet.
They moved slowly through the forest, a bucket of cold water swaying with each step from her left hand. She kept a hand to the right to feel for branches, and Luteis at her other side. His leg brushed her shoulder every so often.
The crack of iced twigs, an occasional flutter of wings, moved around them. Sanna walked by three small trees standing right next to each other and paused.
Luteis waited.
“We’re a minute or two away from Mam’s house?”
Correct.
“Hmmm.”
You remember those trees?
“Yes. One of them has a pocket of sap at this height, and there are three of them.”
Her fingers probed. After the freezing rain, ice had changed the edges of the sap pocket, but it remained familiar enough. She created a vague mental map from this spot. The triplet trees came ten paces before the rocks began. From there, the trail canted slightly to the left, then straight to Mam’s.
Somewhat more confident, she began again, then stalled. Understanding her hesitation, Luteis said, You’re headed in the right direction.
“Thanks.”
With her winter boots on, she couldn’t use her toes to feel. The rain froze the ground into thin plates of ice. She paused, stooped down. Her hands groped around for a moment before she felt the shockingly chill edge of a rock.
“Is this a stone on the path I made?”
Yes.
A rush of relief followed. She chuckled, giddy, and straightened.
“It works! Our trail of rocks is starting to be more familiar. As long as you get me started on the right path, I can find my way to Mam’s.”
A note of hesitation filled his voice.
Yes, it does work right here.
Right here rang through her mind. Well, Luteis wasn’t wrong. She could turn slightly the wrong way and wander in the forest unless a noise drew her the right direction. She could so easily get lost.
Yet, Luteis never left her side.
Still . . .
She accepted it as a win that she could understand where she stood in the forest to any degree. Luteis had tamped down this specific trail from the stream to Mam’s so Sanna could recognize where to fetch water. For the last three days, Sanna had painstakingly lined it with rocks on both sides, a little more than a hand span apart.
Awash with hope, she lifted the bucket and continued to walk.
I could always fly you to the stream, you know.
“I know.”
Why don’t you let me?
“I don’t think I’m ready to fly yet, and it’s beside the point.”
What is the point?
Sanna fumbled with a response. How to explain the locked feeling in her chest? The sense of . . . nothing . . . ahead of her? He hadn’t meant for it to, but Luteis’ question last night plagued her.
What is the purpose of one’s life if one has no higher calling?
She had the same question, only slightly different. What happens when you’ve completed the purpose of your life so young?
What if freeing the dragons was the biggest thing she’d ever do? Her life calling, as he’d named it. A sinking feeling always accompanied the question. She’d commanded an entire magic system and three dragon races. Explored the Western Network. Spoken to goddesses—though she hadn’t even realized it. Nor had she paused to consider the deep ramifications of who she had been.
Sanna of the forest. Leader of dragons. Changer of worlds.
Now she exulted over fetching water from the stream. Life might have already reached its highest point, and she had nowhere to go but down.
“I don’t know,” she finally said, just to eliminate the annoyingly pessimistic thoughts. “It feels good to do something productive without Mam breathing down my neck.”
Technically, I’m breathing down your neck.
Sanna snorted when a curling heat caressed her skin.
“True. It’s a metaphor. It means she’s been hovering really close.”
I see.
His wings ruffled, as if he preened. The edge of her right leg caught a wet bush. The leaves shivered, sending cool droplets into the mud. She edged back to the left. Soft, loamy earth meant she was on the path.
“Do you see the house yet? I think we have a little longer to go. I didn’t count.”
Just ahead.
“Good.”
Mam’s voice crossed the distance. “This way, Sanna!”
“I know, Mam!”
Luteis’s rolling chuckle slipped through her mind. She growled in his direction, but said nothing. Mam shouted loud enough for all the Dragonmasters to hear, even the ones that didn’t live so close.
I was the High Dragonmaster! she wanted to shout back, but the words stuck in her throat. She didn’t need sight to hear or understand the fear Mam lived with these days. That they all experienced.
“We really need to find a different place to live,” she muttered.
You may take shelter under my wing for as long as you desire. I am warm in the winter. In the summer, you can sleep apart from me, as long as my tail can touch you. Again, I will attempt to convince you that a nomadic forest life is not a bad one.
“It’s not the middle of winter yet, though. We haven’t truly tested whether it would work.”
I burn hot then as well. We can go wherever hunting and food takes us, as I used to. In that way, you need not leave the forest or rely on your Mam. Only me.
The thought sent a thrill through her. Adventure and dragons and freedom. It’s what she used to have. Who she used to be.
Her head tilted to the side. “You really think we could live like that all winter?”
I don’t see why not.
Sanna considered that as they crossed the last few steps. She walked more confidently now than last week, but it still took three times longer to do anything.
Why not roam with Luteis?
Wild.
Heathen.
Vagabond.
The words had a nice ring. They appealed more than she wanted to admit, but something tugged at her. Something wasn’t right, she just . . . didn’t know what it was. Running away from Mam’s overabundance of caution and pecking certainly had her interest.
Your sister might not like it, Luteis continued. I believe your Mam would be against such a thing. His musing tone drew her from her reverie. Are you willing to go against their wishes?
“Is it their business?”
To her saucy attitude he replied, is it not?
“Sanna!” Mam called. “Over here. Are you all right? What’s wrong?”
“Mam, I’m fine.”
“Well, good,” Mam countered, equally hoity. “Forgive me for checking on you and being worried. I didn’t hear from you last night!”
Her voice became a tad shrill. Sanna could picture Mam with her hands on her hips, graying blonde hair piled in a high bun. Her deep judgment and skepticism radiated from fathoms away.
“Sorry, Mam.”
“Sleep outside again, did you? There are leaves and twigs in your hair.”
Sanna would have glared at Luteis for not warning her, but it wasn’t his responsibility. Besides, he didn’t care if she woke up with a mussed dress and muddy hair. His dragonian mind couldn’t comprehend why twigs in the hair mattered.
Sanna either, for that matter.
“Yes, Mam. I slept outside with Luteis.”
“Your attic room is always—”
“I know.”
The awkward silence returned. The same one that had been swelling between them for days.
We’re here to help you, Sanna, Mam said two days ago. But . . . that might take different forms. We’re all struggling with this for you. You might have to be extra patient while we figure out . . . things.
A line of rocks met Sanna’s feet. She reached down. They were slick from the falling moisture. Carefully, Sanna lowered the water bucket to the ground. When she reached out, the edge of the porch railing waited right where she thought it might.
She grinned.
Triumph!
Every day offered a different challenge so far. She had a good day three days ago. The rest had been mostly terrible. A small win early in the morning would turn the tide for now.
“I brought water.”
“Thank you.” The bucket scraped as Mam pulled it closer. “The trail seems to be working?”
“Thankfully, yes.”
“I still don’t like you on your hands and knees out there, but . . .”
She trailed away.
Sanna said nothing.
“Do you need more rocks on your line?”
“No, Mam.”
“They may not be thick enough. What if you couldn’t feel them? I—”
“Mam, it’s fine.”
“Well . . .” More burdensome silence. “Breakfast is inside.”
A gut wrenching feeling stole through Sanna. She hated eating with other witches around, even Mam. She stuffed the embarrassment of them watching her aside. Well, she had to deal with it, or go hungry. The grumbles issuing from her stomach suggested that the former would happen first.
Minutes later, they sat at the table. Sighs and shuffles followed Mam around, along with unbroken spells of silence. Such a loud quiet. Letum Wood constantly had something to say. The noise made the hollow ache of missing the trees and their mossy, lovely trunks seem not so painful.
Sanna felt around the plate. Bread on the left. Fork on the right. A small crock of jam just above the side of the plate, like yesterday.
“Do you need me—”
“No,” Sanna growled. “I can spread my own jam.”
Mam silenced.
Sanna reached for the wooden spreading knife, a little thing, half the length of the two-pronged fork. With her left hand, she held the crock of jam, used her pinky to feel for the bread beneath her. Her right had dribbled jam out of the crock, onto the piece. Every day was a guess as to how much, like a surprise.
Engrossed in her task, Sanna startled when Mam broke the pervasive and eternal shroud of silence.
“I wanted to discuss something with you,” Mam said.
“Is it my future?”
A pause. “Of a sort.”
Sanna swallowed a rock in her throat, set the crock of jam aside.
“I’m listening.”
“The other day, you mentioned being an emissary for dragons in the future. Do you remember that?”
Sanna almost scoffed. Remember? How could she have forgotten? Deasylva had given her the idea when Sanna last saw herself, her sister, and the forest goddess. The idea of being an emissary hummed underneath all this other . . . stuff. It gave a blossom of hope to her life.
“Yes, I remember.”
“Were you serious?”
“Yes.”
“What would you do as an emissary?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you going to pursue it?”
“I don’t know.”
Mam chewed, swallowed. “Well, if not that, I was thinking maybe you could stay here. Help me and Elliot with things around the place? Things we could . . . you know . . . help you sort out? Jesse has been gone a lot but should be around more often. You like Jesse.”
The prim, careful tone meant something, Sanna couldn’t pinpoint what yet. Mam clearly had an agenda.
“You mean chores?” she asked. “You want me to help you do chores around the place?”
“Or . . . something.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. We’ll find something for you.”
“What about Luteis?”
Mam’s tone was equally perplexed. “What about him?”
“What will he do?”
“Whatever dragons do.”
“He stays with me,” she said firmly.
Mam’s exasperated breath followed. “Luteis isn’t everything, Sanna. You must know that.”
Sanna opened her mouth to counter, but stopped. A snort of smoke issued outside. Clearly, the giant dragon took exception to what Mam said. A curling defensiveness rose like a prickling cactus.
“Well, he’s my eyes.”
“He’s not. He’s your dragon, amo.”
The gently-spoken words stood at odds with the fire they stirred. Sanna’s hand tightened around her fork handle.
“Mam . . .”
A soothing hand settled over hers. Mam’s palm was heavy and surprisingly comforting.
“Sanna, I’m not trying to pick a fight. Please understand. I just . . . you’re facing a whole new world. A dangerous one. One that I think none of us are ready for. I don’t know how to keep you safe in the forest and maybe being at home is best for you for a while. Jesse . . .”
She trailed away.
Then Sanna understood. She recoiled. “You want me to court Jesse?”
Mam’s hand slipped away. The tinkle of fork against plate rang in the air. Mam must be fidgeting. “I won’t lie,” she said, drawling, “and say that the idea didn’t cross my mind. But mostly I just think you need a friend. A witch friend, not a dragon friend.”
“Mam!”
“He adores you, Sanna. And he understands your challenges. You could stay here, with us to help you, while you . . . adjust and court and . . .”
Horror rooted her into the chair. She gripped the sides, swallowing hard. Thank Drago she hadn’t told Mam about Jesse’s attempted kiss a year ago!
“Please tell me you haven’t spoken with him?”
“No, not yet.”
“Don’t you dare, Mam!”
“Sanna! What is wrong with you?”
“I don’t want to court Jesse. I don’t want to handfast anyone. I’m . . . Luteis is enough for me. He’ll take care of me.”
Indeed, he drawled in her head.
She suppressed a smile.
Mam’s voice did not smile. “Luteis is a dragon, Sanna. I appreciate your special connection, but it won’t be enough. You two are different species. I understand his love for you, and that he’d give his life for you, but it’s your depth of allegiance and loyalty to Luteis that has me worried. You cannot live for Luteis alone, Sanna. Neither of you are infallible . . .”
She trailed away. Something permeated Mam’s tone beyond the cautious words, stilted manner.
“Life tends to happen to all of us,” Mam continued with a voice that seemed to suggest she didn’t speak about Sanna anymore. “And we adapt and grow from it. As you adapt to your . . . new struggles . . . you need to make certain that you aren’t reliant on Luteis. That you can survive with others, too.”
Bitterness infused Sanna’s voice. “Forgive me, Mam, but I can’t. I can’t stand on my own in Letum Wood.”
“Can’t you?”
The inquiry stopped Sanna short. What was Mam trying to say? What didn’t Sanna see or understand here—literally and figuratively?
Struck silent by the depth of the question, and all the fears it stirred up, Sanna said nothing. Her fingers rested on the tabletop. Appetite had long since fled, despite the tangy smell of jam in her nose and the gentle grit of breadcrumbs on her fingers.
Mam’s hand slipped away.
“I also mention this because I wanted you to know that Elliot has . . . well . . .” She cleared her throat. Sanna stiffened.
Oh, no.
“That is,” Mam continued, her voice pitched high. “Elliot has asked me to handfast him, and I’ve accepted. That will open up this house for you to use. Or you and Jesse to use, as it could be.”
Shock rushed through Sanna like a cold wave, though the news was hardly surprising. Elliot had lost his wife, Babs, to a mountain dragon attack months ago. Mam had lost Daid before that. The grieving widow and widower, both attempting to live in Letum Wood and support their children, of whom Elliot still had several at home, would be wise to pool resources.
Still . . .
Daid stirred to life in her mind, a ghost she tried not to give too much thought to. She missed him. Yearned for his steady touch and reassurance more than ever. What would he think of her blindness? Would he coddle her, like Mam? Would there be fear in his voice when he spoke to her as well?
Sanna worked through her astonishment slowly. “Mam, I . . . ah . . . congratulations.”
“It’s not a funeral announcement, Sanna,” Mam said with amusement. “It’s a handfasting. We’ll have a very simple ceremony here in the forest. It’s more of an arrangement of convenience and companionship for both of us.”
“When?”
“In two days.”
“So soon?”
Her shoulders seemed to shrug. “What need is there to wait? It’s winter. Besides, we’re practically living together as it is, since I take care of his three younger children, plus the Parker children.”
The breaking of the Dragonmaster families had been a harrowing affair. Finn and Adelina Parker had set out into the forest to try to recreate Anguis after it burned down, only to die. Trey Parker, Finn’s eldest son, survived with his sister Greata and younger brother Hans. They lived with Elliot and his four younger children in the large house next door.
“This does mean that you’ll want to move in with us, I assume?” Mam asked.
Concerns burdened such a query. Sanna hid a recoil. By Drago, no! She didn’t want to live in the same house as Elliot and Jesse and . . . no.
We need to get that house situation figured out fast, she said to Luteis. And not this house either.
Agreed.
With her most Isadora-like impression, she managed to not sound strangled. “Ah, no. Thank you, Mam. Luteis and I will figure something out.”
“Sanna—”
Sanna held up a hand. “Mam, I know that you want me. I appreciate that. But I’m an adult now. I was the High Dragonmaster over three races of dragons. Isadora is handfasted and . . . with Max.” She choked the last out, for it opened a whole other can of worms. “I don’t think it’s right for me to go live with my Mam and her new husband.”
“I understand, but considering your lack of sight. Your . . . unfamiliarity in this world. Would that be safe?”
“I have—”
“Luteis, I know. But Sanna, Luteis isn’t enough.”
Rage snapped through Sanna, tightening her spine. No more of this. She yanked her shoulders back.
“Excuse me, Mam, but Luteis is everything.”
“Sanna—”
Sanna shoved her chair away, pressed to her feet. A gentle burn of heat radiated into the house from outside. She could hear Luteis moving closer.
“Thank you for breakfast. I’ll be back for the handfasting.”
With that, Sanna fled.