“Why don’t you start with cleaning up today?” he suggests. “Then we’ll see about you tending the plants.”
“Sounds great,” I say quickly.
Oren leaves me to it. It’s a bit of a daunting task, given the state of the garden. But that just means it’ll take me several days to complete. My mind is already starting a list of priorities and filling in all the opportunity this garden has. Maybe, if there are enough supplies after I repair everything, I’ll make a bench. This could be a lovely place to sit in late spring or summer when the pollinators are happily going about their business.
I dare to open the shed door, and the whole thing nearly collapses when I do. But inside is a rake and that’s all I need for now. I start with the pathways, piling up the needles at the back edge of the garden. There’s a clear line where the stone pathways end and the forest floor begins. I push the pine needles off onto the forest floor but go no farther.
It’s late morning when I take my first break. I lean against the wall and wipe sweat from my brow. My muscles are sore. It’s been only a week of lounging and I’ve already lost some strength. The stiffness in my bones makes me feel even better about keeping busy. Work keeps me moving, which keeps me strong.
The sound of a sniffle summons my attention, followed immediately by soft crying. I look around for the source and my eyes are drawn to the woods. There, in the distance, I see a young girl with hands balled into tiny fists, wiping wet cheeks as she weeps.
“What the—What are you doing out there?” I call out to her. She continues crying as though she can’t hear me. “Little girl, are you lost?”
Still no response.
I look around, trying to see if I can spot anyone else around her. There’s no one. She carries a satchel slung across her body. Who would bring a child into the dark forest? I know there are men and women who dare to forage within it but I’ve never heard of anyone being so foolish as to bring a child. I push away from the wall and walk to the edge of the stone pathways, cupping my hands around my mouth.
“Little girl, look, come over here.”
She stills, hands dropping from her face so she can look at me. She rubs her nose with her knuckles. And then dashes behind a tree.
“No, wait! Don’t run!” I step off the pathway and onto the plush piles of pine needles I just finished raking. “You don’t have to be afraid; I’m trying to help you. Did you come out here with your parents?”
I see her poke her little face out from around the tree. Her hair is a painfully similar shade to Laura’s.
“It’s all right,” I coo softly. “I’m not going to hurt you.” I trail my hand along the wall, walking to the very edge of where it crumbles to nothing, and come to a stop. “Come here.”
She retreats behind the tree.
“Please, it’s not safe out here for a little one like you. There’s chocolate in the kitchens, I can get you a piece if you’d like.” I have no idea if there’s chocolate, I just know that bribe always worked with Laura when she was this age.
The girl reemerges. I can see now that she’s absolutely filthy. I expected the mud and dirt covering her clothes. I didn’t expect the blood.
“Are you hurt?” I whisper.
She shakes her head and begins sobbing once more. A picture is forming in my mind of what might have happened here. Someone must have taken her into the woods, either well-meaning or nefarious, and then a horrible misfortune befell them that this girl somehow managed to escape. That also means that somewhere out there the man, or beast, or even fae who did this might still be hunting her. It might be hiding behind any of these trees.
“I need you to listen to me now. Be a good girl, yes?” She’s still crying. I scan the woods for danger and then look back to her. “You’ll be safe in the little castle behind me. Please, come with me. The lord of this manor is very kind, and generous. He won’t hurt you.”
The girl sobs harder. I think I see movement in the woods behind her. I creep forward.
“Can you tell me your name?” I ask. She shakes her head. “My name is Katria. The woods are a scary place, aren’t they?” More movement in my periphery. My heart is racing. I extend a sweaty palm. “Come on, take my hand.” I don’t know if Lord Fenwood’s protection, whatever it might be, will extend to her as well. But if she takes my hand, with one yank we will be back behind the crumbled edge of the wall. If I run as fast as I can, we’ll be in the garden in a breath.
She stops crying and raises her tiny fingers. My hand closes around hers. Her eyes flash a bright yellow, like torchlight hitting a wolf’s eyes at night.
The girl smiles wide, and her mouth is full of too many teeth, dagger-sharp. She wrenches with a strength that she should not possess and pulls me past the wall. I topple head over heels, letting out a yelp of surprise. On my knees, I dig my hands into the moist underbrush of rotting leaves and damp earth, and jerk my head back in her direction.
The girl is no more. In her place is a gnarled woman. She has bright yellow eyes with slits for pupils. Gossamer wings unfurl behind her, dragging on the ground as she stalks toward me with bony claws. Around her shoulders is a swirling shawl of shadow.
I open and close my mouth, trying to form words, but there are none. I blink several times, as if she’ll go away, as if I’ll wake myself up from this nightmare, but she comes closer and closer.
“Please don’t hurt me,” I squeak, pushing off the ground, crab-walking backward. I should get up and run, but fear has made a fool of me. Her bloodshot eyes look for my death.
“Maybe I won’t hurt you.” Her voice is garbled and worn—it’s as if someone has ripped out her voice box and shoved it back in the wrong direction. In addition, the common tongue doesn’t seem to be her first language. “If you promise to do one thing for me.”
“What? I’ll give you anything you want.”
“Open a window of that room.” She points a bony claw toward the dining room. “Leave it open this night.”
