I can find no further hints of . . . whatever the creature might be.
Sanna grunted and dropped a log on the ground. It clattered against several others in a pile as tall as her waist. With the back of her arm, she wiped the sweat off her forehead and sat down.
“That’s good news, right?”
Is it?
The dark edge of his question had her uncertain of anything these days.
“Maybe it moved on.”
Maybe. His heat slipped by her to the left. That seems far too simple of a solution for a place like Letum Wood.
“True. In the meantime, I think we’re almost there. It’s all put back together, and more logs obtained, anyway.”
Sanna felt along the ground, satisfied when the log that she followed bisected another log at a 90 degree angle. Rocks lay in piles on either side. The northwest corner of the house. At least thirty logs gathered at that corner, ready for . . . whatever came next.
Stripping the bark?
Another bundle of trees they had scavenged, approximately forty paces away, held an equal number of logs. Basic guesstimations—assuming each log was about the same width, then stacked end-over-end—meant she’d need at least ten more logs to have enough to build her little house.
Maybe.
All was conjecture.
Will you put in windows?
“Yes, I’ll need fresh air. And if people come to visit me, they’ll need to be able to see, even if I don’t. We could have it totally closed in for me and it wouldn’t matter regarding light, but air flow would be an issue.”
He made a noise in his throat, seeming not to notice her amusement over it.
“Anyway, about gathering more logs. I know you—”
A sensation of passing air, then a meaty plop, landed at her feet. Sanna leaped back with a cry.
“What is that?”
Something that fell from the treetops.
“What?”
Astonishment filled his voice. I’m not certain, but I’m inclined to think it’s a . . . carcass. No . . . an egg?
She recoiled, sniffed. No smell came with it. The urge to reach down and touch it followed, but she didn’t give in.
“A carcass?” She smelled again. “But I can’t smell anything.”
Indeed, it’s not a carcass. The flesh is not wasted away or shriveled or dark. It’s . . . large, I suppose. About the height of your knee.
“Can you describe it any better than that?”
It’s a round ball with white, flesh-like areas. Tissue, it would appear. There are six holes on either side of what might be a body. Joint entrances perhaps?
“Like legs?”
No legs visible.
“Weird.”
There is no smell, at least not an overpowering one. A light scent, perhaps, but . . .
He snorted, clearly frustrated.
“Do you think this is the creature that might be stalking us?”
No. Something has eaten this one. It is not a whole creature. The skin is stripped off, blood is gone. Parts of it are missing, whatever they are.
At that ominous thought, she fell silent. Questions plagued her. So many she couldn’t narrow it down. Had the creature come in the night last night, eaten this, and left it to fall on them?
Or did it put that here as another warning?
Little one, I believe we should choose a different spot. We are not safe here anymore.
The thought sent a shot of pain through her belly. Leave? After all their hard work? It had taken weeks to find a suitable spot, and she’d slaved for days getting it organized and laid out and . . .
She already knew the answer in her heart. Luteis was right. At least in one regard.
“I understand, but . . . it just . . . it followed us from our last spot, right? Maybe if we leave it will stalk us again?”
Then we go farther away, or closer to your family, where you’ll be safer when I hunt.
The thought of being near Mam and Elliot sent equal shots of relief and dread through her. Yes, the four walls would feel marvelous compared to her frightened jitters now.
But . . . no, she could do this. She had to do this. How else could she prove to herself and her family that she was capable of living in the forest?
“We don’t have any idea what this or the predator is,” she said, a bit desperately. “It could have been killed by a forest lion, for all that we know.”
What if it remains? What if we’ve moved into its habitat?
“What if it’s stalking us and it doesn’t matter where we go?”
He paused.
It’s possible, he admitted reluctantly.
The thought of starting over again, finding more logs, mapping out a different location, a new stream plot, getting used to the area, learning her way around by forming new rock trails in the cold ground, depressed her. Not as much as the fear of being stalked, however. They had two giant problems.
A troubled silence brewed.
“Let’s take a break from this area,” she said shakily. “We’ll go to Mam’s. You can hunt and I’ll talk to Elliot and all the witches there. Maybe they will know what it is. Then we’ll decide if we need to move, or fight. I think . . . I think we need more information. Hopefully, while we’re gone, it will ignore the house supplies.”
The hot flow of his breath brushed her hair out of her eyes.
Yes, it is a sound plan. But if we don’t answer the question of what this is, then I will not bring us back here ever again, little one. I require your safety in Letum Wood above all else.
* * *
The blissful quiet of Elliot’s house was a surprising reprieve. Sanna paused halfway across the dining room, hands held out. The stillness was almost disorienting. No creaks to indicate where witches kept themselves busy, or background laughter to help her figure out who was present.
“Where are all of the children?” she asked.
Mam chuckled. “Several are trapping with Trey. The rest are foraging for more firewood and kindling. They’ve picked this area clean and need to branch farther out. Greata is doing an herbology lesson while they’re searching. Isa, I’m glad you were able to come as well. Are you hungry for lunch?”
Strain tightened Isadora’s voice. “No, I just ate with Max, thank you.”
“How is Wildrose?” Sanna asked as she found a chair and settled. Given Isadora’s previous descriptions, Sanna wanted to prowl Wildrose Manor and . . . well . . . feel what was there. The gargoyle-protected grandfather clock in the main hallway that she spoke about, the trinkets in a square closet filled entirely with small drawers.
“Wildrose is interesting. I’ve been exploring it more lately.” Some of the grit left Isa’s voice. “There are always fascinating things to find. Sanna, you should come. There’s much to feel.”
Sanna tried to inspire conviction in her tone. “Sounds great.”
The thunk of a lunch plate sounded on the table. Sanna palpated a slice of bread, several greens, at the tips of her fingers.
“Sounds like a lovely place, Isa,” Mam said brightly. “Elliot and I hope to see it one day.”
“We want you for dinner, if you’ll come.”
“We would love that.”
“You too, Sanna. Max needs to meet the family before . . . well, before I agree to remain his wife.”
The frost had returned to her voice.
“What if you bring Max here next week?” Mam asked. “Elliot would like to meet him. If all goes well, we’ll be happy to visit you at your new place.”
What if it doesn’t go well? Sanna almost asked, but sealed her lips. Isadora could fight her own battles.
“That should be fine,” Isa said, with a remarkably neutral voice. “I’ll ask Maximillion and send a note to confirm.”
Sanna occupied herself with the bread, thinly spread with the last of the butter Jesse had traded for.
“And how is living as a vagabond in the forest going?” Isa inquired.
Thoughts of her unknown predator, the mussed rocks, strange indentations in the ground, ran through her mind. She forced a cheery voice.
“Very well.”
“You like living as a nomad, then?”
“With a dragon, it’s not so bad. Without Luteis, it would be far more frightening. Impossible, probably.”
“I’m pleased to hear you’re aware of that,” Isadora said primly. Then, in a far gentler tone, “And I’m so grateful for Luteis. Where are you staying now?”
“Not too far from here. An hour’s flight, if you follow the stream from overhead. Luteis found us a place where I’m considering building a house.”
“Didn’t you used to play there?”
“Maybe?” Sanna shrugged. “I haven’t seen it, so I wouldn’t know.” She set down her slice of bread, rushed with nerves now that the moment had arrived. “In fact, the house is why I’m here. I wanted to see if Elliot and Jesse might be able to help us.”
Mam’s voice perked up. “Build a house?”
Sanna swallowed a rising ball of emotion. Panic, perhaps. Melancholy, too. A painful mixture of both.
“We’ve found an almost perfect spot. Stream access, younger tree growth, no signs of lion packs or beluas.”
“Almost perfect?” Mam inquired.
“Well, there’s something that’s followed us there. A creature of sorts. I was hoping Isadora or you or Jesse could help us find out more about it before we ask for help building.”
Stillness descended. Before their cacophony of questions could follow, Sanna pressed on. They remained utterly silent as she explained, with what details she remembered, each event. When she finished, she sat back in the chair, shocked by how much better she felt. Holding it in felt like cuddling fire.
“I promised Luteis we’d ask Elliot and other witches to see if they know what sort of creature it could be. We think it followed us, but we aren’t sure.”
“Probably some horrid animal from the bowels of Letum Wood,” Mam said, shrill. “My goodness, Sanna! I’m shocked you haven’t been eaten. You can’t go back there!”
“Mam, whatever it is, it avoids Luteis. I think it doesn’t like dragons. It might have gone close to him but it didn’t bother him. I’m safe.”
“For now!”
Isadora must have put a hand on Mam’s arm or sent her a quelling look, because a stretch of silence followed. Sanna hung her head in her hands.
Don’t take this away from me, she silently pleaded. Please don’t.
“Sanna,” Isa said, “I’m glad you told us. I’ll go to the Great Library of Burke and ask the librarians for books on creatures in the forest. Maybe there’s notation of an animal we aren’t yet aware of.”
“Really?”
“Yes, of course. You’ve worked hard. We can help you figure this out. But maybe, in the meantime—”
“We’ll stay somewhere else, I promise. But I’m not giving that spot up!”
Isa’s voice remained steady.
“Thank you.”
Eating resumed with the quiet shuffle of sleeves over tablecloth, the clack of fork on plate. Sanna finished her bread, and contemplated requesting another slice, when Mam asked, “You mentioned wanting to build. Who is going to help you do that?”
“I was going to see if Elliot and Jesse knew anything about it.”
“Doubtful,” Mam said, then hurried to say, “but only because they inherited the houses they’ve lived in. We can certainly ask.”
Sanna deflated, shocked to realize she’d hung all her hopes on their help. What if they didn’t know what to do next? She didn’t know anyone else. The feeling of bees in her chest made her want to leap up and skitter away.
Mori, how had she not thought of that?
“It’s a sensible plan, Sanna,” Isa said. “I think it’s impressive that you’re finding a way to make it happen. I—”
“I’m blind, not an idiot,” she snapped.
“No one ever suggested otherwise,” Isadora said coolly. “You are defensive though. We’re not against you.”
Sanna let out a long breath, forced herself to relax. Isa was right. That hadn’t been fair of her to say.
“Sorry.”
She hated that she couldn’t see their exchange of glances. So much communication was lost without eyes. The lift of a brow, twitch of lips. Worlds of understanding could pass through sheer motion, all of it lost to eternal darkness.
Everything felt as if it slipped out from beneath her, like quicksand at her feet. If Elliot and Jesse couldn’t help her build, what would she do? She couldn’t build on her own, no matter how much she tried.
Acceptance hurt.
Unable to bear it another moment, she blurted out, “How do you make soap?”
The question caused another stillness. Sanna turned toward them, her curiosity piqued, before Isadora asked, “Why do you want to know?”
“Because I’d like to make soap.”
Mam finally said, “There are many ways to make soap, depending on what you like. You want hard soap to wash with, I assume?”
“Yes.”
“I have some extra, if you’d like,” Isadora said. “We have a whole cupboard full at Wildrose. Just found it yesterday, actually. It’s all gold colored, if you can believe that. Who uses gold soap, and for what purpose?”
“I’d rather make it.”
The long pause that followed suggested Mam and Isadora stared at each other. Irritated, Sanna let out a breath.
“You can just say it, you know. Instead of being polite or looking at each other, I’d rather you tell me what’s on your mind. I may not be able to see your expressions, but your voices do enough work.”
Mam sighed. “Sorry, Sanna. I just . . . why do you want to make soap? Can’t you just take what we’ve offered as a gift because we love you? Everything we do to try to help is met with defensiveness and frustration.”
Her spine stiffened. “You’re hardly overflowing with soap yourself, Mam.”
To that, no answer came.
Isadora broke in again. “I’m happy to send you soap, Sanna, whenever you want it, but I have a feeling that’s not what you really want. If you want to be self-sufficient and make it yourself, I can find books on soap making, but you won’t be able to read them.”
Relief stirred in Sanna with Isa’s comment. At least her twin understood, on some level, what she wanted to do.
“I appreciate it. I just . . . I want to make my own soap.”
“What if we do it together?” Isa suggested. “I know Babs used to make it for the Anguis community. Mam, you must have helped at one point?”
“Yes.” She hesitated. “I suppose what I don’t remember, Skye will. She helped her mother often enough. Can we try it next week? We might have to gather supplies that I’m positive we don’t have.”
“Can I help?” Sanna asked.
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll be here.”
“Anything else you need?” Isa asked. “I found some old clothes in the basement of Wildrose when Max and I toured through it. They’re out of fashion, but the fabric is sturdy and could easily be repurposed into new gowns.”
“I’ll take them,” Sanna said quickly.
“But how—” Mam started, then stopped. “Never mind,” she said as hastily.
Sanna scowled. “Just like everything else,” she muttered. “I’ll figure it out.”
“I’ll bring them when we put the soap together,” Isadora promised with a brightness she used when dispeling tension. “I’ll try to find rose petals, too. I believe we might even have lavender, if you want scented soap.”
“Sounds lovely,” Mam said.
Sanna stood up, felt her way along the edge of the table, and carefully crossed the room. A chair that hadn’t been there before banged her shin. She rolled her lips to suppress a curse, scooted it out of the way, and continued into the kitchen. Finding the far table, she set the empty plate there.
“Thank you, Sanna,” Mam called.
Little one, Luteis said from without. I have returned.
She could have cried with relief. “Thanks for having me for lunch, Mam. Luteis is back. Isa, it was good to hear your voice again. I’m glad we can communicate more than we did when you were in the Advocacy.”
“If you’d let me teach you magic, it would be even easier!”
“Soon!” Sanna called.
And it was the best she could do, though the scorched, frightened part of Sanna curled away at the thought. Magic, dragons, Letum Wood, Daid’s death. All of it had been life-shifting enough. She couldn’t take on more now.
“Can you ask Elliot about the creature, Mam?”
“I will tonight.”
“And I’ll find out what I can,” Isadora called, but Sanna was already headed toward the back door.