“Luteis, I think you’ve found it.”
How will we know for certain? I’m positive we’ve traipsed at least half the forest.
“I can tell!”
Sanna spun in a circle. The air didn’t hover as close as other parts of the forest. Though she couldn’t see the branches, she felt their weight. As if magic loomed more prevalently in some spots than others.
At her feet, a brook bubbled. Sips of the water were clean, not brackish or strange. Smaller undergrowth cluttered the ground, but not too thick. She’d already measured out a square forty paces wide, each corner marked with a cairn of rocks that were too big to be an accident. Despite the house map, more space remained around it.
The ground is fairly flat, he said, as if slowly convinced by what she said.
“Any signs of forest lions?”
Not that I’ve found.
She thought of the strange creature that almost attacked in the night nearly a week ago, then dismissed it. No other indications had shown themselves. Their days had been quiet and calm as they warbled around, returning every other day to update Mam.
I believe you’ll want another sighted witch to confirm that this is a good spot, he said with worry in his voice. While I can observe and report with my eyes, I am not a witch. They may think differently, understand better. Your sister, perhaps?
Sanna stopped spinning. The exultation in her blood slowed. She paused, arms at her side. He had a point, but was it a necessary point?
“Maybe.”
Your Mam?
“Ah, I’d rather wait on that. Where are we again?”
Luteis hesitated, and in the pause, she read a world of uncertainty.
“Luteis?”
We are in the forest, though perhaps not as deep as you might like. I followed the stream, he continued hastily, before she could interrupt. It led me here. As to where? I have no other landmarks with which to orient you. All is forest.
True.
Dragons didn’t map the world out like witches. Daid used to have an old, curling parchment with a sketched layout of Letum Wood and the basic large structures in the Central Network. Chatham Castle. A city named Ashleigh. Curiosity compelled her to wonder where, in that defined world, she stood.
Luteis wouldn’t have been so uncertain if there wasn’t something that pushed him to be so.
She paused.
“Are there witches nearby?”
I believe so, but have not confirmed. We’re in closer proximity to witches than before, and I fear you won’t be pleased with that. It couldn’t be helped.
She wasn’t thrilled with the prospect, of course, but she wouldn’t voice that to him. The anxiety in his tone softened her. He tried so hard.
“You did perfectly, Luteis. Thank you.”
Truly?
“Yes. The creek appears healthy. The undergrowth isn’t so heavy. We have enough space, on flat ground, to build a house. From what I can feel, admittedly, not much, the trees are a more manageable size here to obtain lumber from.”
I would agree. The forest is far more healthy than other places.
“Good. Is it close to hunting?”
I find it acceptable for my use. The water is clean, and the forest not overly dark as in other parts. There are areas of Letum Wood that not even dragons would traverse. We are far from those and the . . . threatening influences they yield.
“Really?”
He shuddered, scales rippling. Yes, and I would not expose you to it. Here is ideal for a dragon. The trees are spaced far enough apart to allow quick and easy navigation. Most branches are quite high, which decreases the likelihood of a forest lion or belua attack. It seems to be a quiet area. Yes, this shall do nicely.
“What about the winter? Where will you sleep?”
In the forest, as I always do.
“But there’s no cave.”
He snorted. I never hibernated in caves. This is a weakness in the vapid forest dragons that Talis turned into whelps.
She giggled. Luteis’ staunch opinions on the other forest dragons and their lazy, incompetent state hadn’t changed in the weeks after the breaking of the Dragonmaster magic. Though many had redeemed themselves by fighting against Prana, such as Junis and Elis, the others that refused to learn to fly received his enormous and near-eternal disdain.
Cara received the most attention, however, as Luteis very much wanted to mate with her.
I stand by my suggestion, he said with a bit more levity. I think your sister should view it. There may be concerns that I wouldn’t be aware of. Aside from that, I believe we have found the place.
“But how do we get Isadora here? She can’t ride you.”
A fair question. What of her magical means of moving around?
“Yes, transporting, but Isa says that it’s unsafe if you haven’t been to the spot where you’re transporting first. I don’t think she’d just be able to transport to my side.”
Hmmm . . .
Impatient to begin, Sanna waved that off. “Well, let’s deal with that later. For now, maybe we can figure out how the house will lay out. Do you think forty paces is wide enough?”
I wouldn’t know.
She set her hands on her hip. How big was the house she grew up in? The table where they sat? Exactly how much furniture did she need?
In the back of her mind’s eye, she harbored a picture for the house. An idea of how it would lay out in front of her. Now that she tried to conjure it, the details remained elusive. Twenty paces for her bedroom? No.
Ten?
Grr . . .
Furniture popped into her mind. She hadn’t thought of chairs. How would she fashion those to the right height? She could create stools, somehow. Nails and a hammer, which were easily enough found, except . . .
How would she use them without smashing a thumb?
A plethora of new questions occurred, leading her to the realization that finding the best place had been the easy part.
Sanna swallowed rising panic, born on a wave of questions such as how will we cut down trees for lumber? and where will I find firewood?
“Can you smell any fairies in this area? They’re nasty neighbors if we build too close. It’s the final thing that I can think of to check.”
Another wise idea. I would like to check for fairy stumps. Would you be all right here if I climb higher into the trees to sniff around?
“No, I don’t mind. Just . . . stay close?”
She tried to keep a nervous tremble out of her voice. Based on the softness of his tone when he responded, she didn’t do a very good job.
Forever, little one.
The hard beat of his wings as he soared into the treetops followed. Sanna drew in a deep breath, let it back out. The delighted babble of the wintry brook belied the waiting silence. An entire world stared at her, but she couldn’t see it.
In that world, dangers awaited.
Sanna stuffed aside the terrifying curl of fear and focused on circumscribing her new place. While her fingers dug into the soil for rocks—large ones for walls, smaller rocks for furniture, such as a table—her mind kept a loose track of sounds. Within this spot, she would be safe enough.
Attempts to flick dirt off the tip of her fingernails led to questions about soap. How was she supposed to stay clean?
Mam would have some, she imagined. Yet, that was a capitulation. An admittance that she couldn’t live her life alone with Luteis.
And yet . . .
The truth lingered somewhere in the background. Why did her life have to be yes or no? Could there be an in-between?
She worked steadily, gratified for purpose, when Luteis returned. His talons tore through the bark as he slid down, gouging it, before he landed sprightly on his feet.
I am convinced there are no dangers here.
Relieved, Sanna let out a deep breath. “Thank you for checking. I’ll map this out, then we’ll fly back to Mam’s, have a bath, and let her see that I’m still alive.”
Something she would appreciate, I believe.
“I loathe relying on her for anything,” she ended with a sigh, then sniffed her shirt and recoiled. “But by Drago, I desperately need a hot bath.”
* * *
The distant sound of laughter bounced through Mam’s dining room the next day. Luteis hunted while she waited safely with Mam. The pop and hiss of a fire sent bursts of heat into the room, like having Luteis close by. She shuffled near to it, felt with her toes for the edge of the stone hearth on the floor.
Thanks to a warm bath, the scent of fresh soap in her wet hair filled her nose. She’d scrubbed her scalp with her fingernails, cleaning the amassed grit there, then every inch possible.
Asking for help might be difficult, but worth it.
Mam’s knitting needles clicked together, accompanied by an occasional whisper as she counted stitches. Sanna found her way to a rocking chair, leaned back, and rested in the quiet. Four sturdy walls gave her a depth of peace. For the first time in weeks, she fully calmed, eager to create her own place.
“Have you given any thought to letting your sister teach you magic, Sanna?” Mam’s musing tone, an inquiry that seemed a little too easily asked, startled her.
“A little.”
“Really?”
“You think I should learn it, too?”
“I think it’s an option for you.”
“Some spells might make it easier to adapt, if they existed.”
“Hmm.”
“Why do you ask?”
“Curiosity.”
Mam’s tone gave no satisfaction. A seat groaned on the other side of the room, near Mam’s voice. Elliot, most likely. He snorted and snuffed enough that she knew he hadn’t moved since dinner. An occasional soft breath and snore came from his direction.
For once, she was glad she didn’t have sight. She didn’t want to see Mam with anyone but Daid, even if she was happy for them.
Sort of.
“Mam, do you . . . that is . . . when you handfasted Daid and left life in the Network, you promised Talis you would stop using magic.”
“I did.”
“Did you really stop?”
“For the most part. There were a few desperate circumstances when you were babies that I used calming blessings or healing incantations. Largely, however, I kept my word.”
“Was it hard?”
“Yes. Magic can be dangerous and used for nefarious purposes, but it has many good things about it, as well.”
Rigid Mam, so anti-magic, such a rule-abiding witch, floated through Sanna’s mind. The Mam that spoke today stood as a testament to the power of change. The ways life challenged and forged all of them.
“Do you use magic now that Talis is gone?”
Mam hesitated. Shuffles likely meant she had readjusted her yarn. Elliot, his children, and the Parker kids probably produced a sprawling pile of clothes that needed fixing. Keeping up with the socks had been a challenge in a family with only two children. Sanna couldn’t imagine seven.
“I hadn’t thought that much about magic before Talis died and the mountain dragons arrived and your daid died. Lately, I have used spells I kept tucked away in memory. It’s the kind of thing that’s hard to forget, once it’s a part of you.”
“Do you feel safe using magic?”
The clicking sounds stopped. “Oh, amo, of course it’s safe. I know it might not feel that way for you because of . . . well . . . what Daid and I taught you. Perhaps that fault is mine, or maybe it belongs to Talis. Either way, the farther from Talis I go, the more I see that when I joined the Dragonmaster families, I swapped one terrible master for another.”
“What does that mean?”
Mam sighed. A world of hurt and weariness lingered in the sound.
“It means that I left a world rife with magic and witches that used it to hurt others. I found another restrictive world, but at least it offered security and love. I have never regretted my decision to handfast Rian. Except . . . life with Talis as dragon sire also required much, and . . . I’m not sure what I’m trying to say.”
The quick accedence, and the unexpected change in tone, startled Sanna. Indeed, it seemed as if there was more to explain, but Mam didn’t know how.
“All our life,” Sanna said slowly, “you told us that magic was bad. That it was forbidden. Now you want me to use it. It’s . . . confusing.”
Mam paused, her rigidness obvious in the air. “I’m sorry, Sanna. We were doing the best we could.”
“I can’t just unlearn years of fear, Mam.” A fist pressed to her heart. The thud of her heartbeat beneath her ribs echoed in a dull refrain. “There’s a block in my heart. Right here. It’s . . . scary.”
“I believe it’s like anything in this life.” Mam’s controlled tone meant she tried to hold herself together. Her voice wobbled, rife with emotion. “Anything can be good or bad, depending on how you use and look at it. Magic is a powerful tool, or you could consider it a weapon. Isadora has been using it now with great effect.”
Sanna snorted. “I’m not Isadora.”
“Nor do I want you to be. Magic is something you might use to navigate your . . . new world.”
“You can say it, Mam. You can say that I’m blind.”
“I know.”
“Why don’t you?”
Tears entered Mam’s voice. “Because I don’t want it to be real for you. I’m sorry, Sanna. I’m trying to honor your life. I’m trying.”
Guilt washed through her. She hadn’t made this easy on Mam. Not that it was easy on any of them.
“I know. I’m sorry. I just . . . I’m trying to figure it out, too.”
“I’m glad you came home,” Mam said with a little sniffle. “Really glad. I worry about you out there. It’s . . .”
She stopped. The chiding voice didn’t resume, like it had weeks ago. Sanna sighed in silent relief.
A step in the right direction.
The click of knitting needles resumed. Stillness drenched the house. Outside, Greata called to Hans. His distant laugh echoed from the back of the house, where the trees gathered in a copse. For long minutes, not another sound stirred, outside Elliot’s deep breaths.
Mori, but what was Sanna supposed to do with her time now? Before, she would have prepped her hunting gear, trapped with Daid, sprinted through the forest. At least Luteis and the home search had kept her busy.
Now what?
“Jesse asked about you,” Mam said.
Sanna frowned. Not the topic she wanted to broach with Mam again, but she couldn’t help her curiosity.
“What’s he doing these days?”
“Trading, finding work. Attempting to carve out a new life, I think. He wants to live in the forest, but doesn’t want to be a trapper.”
“What does he want?”
“He’s figuring that out. There’s a whole world out there, as you know more than most, that none of you have seen.” Her voice dropped. “I think Greata might leave too, as soon as Hans is a bit older.”
Sanna’s voice lowered. “Elliot is okay with all of that?”
“Ah, no.”
The short reply didn’t continue. Sensing Mam wouldn’t discuss it with Elliot so close, she let the topic go. Her curiosity over the matter continued. Maybe Isadora would know.
If only she had a spell . . .
A voice floated through her mind.
Little one? I have returned.
Sanna shot to her feet. “Luteis is back. Thank you for the bath and dinner, Mam. As soon as we figure out a way to get you to the spot, we will.”
“Sanna—”
Sanna edged closer to the door, left hand held out to track the wall. Her fingertips drummed over the rough boards. “It’s all right, Mam. We can do this. See you soon, promise.”
Mam’s farewell cry rang through the air as Sanna fumbled for her coat, then rushed outside.
“I love you!”
The door slammed shut behind her.