Page 77 of The Knucker King

Avice scoffed as they made their way back up the garden path. “My fussing saved you, remember?”

He grinned, the sight of his fangs sending little pricks of heat through her. “Of course I remember, and for that I will be forever in your debt. Just let me know how I can repay you and I will begin immediately.”

His gaze swept her body, before lingering on her face. Avice blushed, and looked away, mumbling something about getting on with the tasks at hand. A low chortle left Trewoofe as she stepped into the cottage.

Bramble was panting heavily by the dying fire; a mountain of sticks piled beside the stone hearth. That should be enough.

“Good boy!” Avice exclaimed, darting towards her Grim.

She swept down to scratch his head and neck. He dropped to the floor and showed his belly. She rubbed her palms in a circular motion all over him, and the hound let out a blissful sigh. Avice laughed as Bramble wriggled on his back, his massive paws twitching in the air. She kept one hand on his belly and reached to toss the icy kindling into the hearth.

“Ashling!” she called, her breath misting in the frigid air. “Let us get this cottage warm. I foolishly left the door open when we retrieved the snow.”

The Wisp – who was perched on Trewoofe’s horn – chirped and flitted over, diving into the fuel. Within a blink, a fire had erupted, the little cracks and pops resonated through the cottage as the wood dried. She placed her second hand back to the Grim’s belly and scratched vigorously. His wagging tail picked up its happy tempo.

She grinned up at Trewoofe, who had placed the snow-filled cauldrons on the table. “We have a final task: I need to fetch some food from the cellar.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Pickles?”

Avice snorted. “Not just pickles, I have other food down there.”

She rose with a grimace, her joints frozen and muscles tender. She wondered whether it was wrong to be grateful for Winter’s tantrum. She had an excuse to stay home, rest, and recover. This past week or so had been harder on her then she cared to admit, and the idea of luxuriating on her pallet surrounded by her little family was immensely appealing.

The word echoed in her head. Family.

“What other food? Sweet things?” Trewoofe asked, stepping towards her.

“Perhaps there is,” she teased, moving to him.

Bramble heaved himself up from the floor with a huff. I will come.

Avice held up her hand. “Trewoofe can aid me, you have already done so much.”

The Grim flattened his ears. It is my duty to help you. You are my witch.

She chuckled at his grouchiness. “You have helped me. More times than I could ever count. I do have a task for you over the next few days, if the blizzard does not slow.”

He wagged his tail. Yes?

“Keep track of the days. It is so dark. I cannot follow the cycle of day and night in a storm like this.”

Bramble was adept at knowing when night had fallen, even when he could not see it. He was a hound of the shadows after all.

That is all you need from me?

“Not all. I need to know how far Equinox is, and be ready for it when the day comes,” she explained.

Bramble cocked his head. You will dance even when Winter remains? Normally, Spring has begun when you do the ritual and you merely bless it with fertility.

Avice studied the garden through the still open cottage door. She recalled the Pillywiggin flock, near-starving with their injured daughter. How many other Faeries may go hungry because Spring had not come? What if the snow piled so heavily on the homes of the villagers that they collapsed under the weight?

“I must.”

The Grim padded towards the door. Avice I am coming with—

He froze when Trewoofe reached down to scratch his head with the tip of his claws. “Little familiar, I will look after her out there. You have done much; look at all the sticks you have gathered for the fire.”

Avice warmed at their exchange, and part of her curled with delight at the thought she might steal a moment alone with the King.