Page 73 of To Ride the Wind

“There might be others in need,” Gwen murmured, and Charlotte followed her to the next house.

Once they had rounded a particularly large pile of rubble, they got a proper look at the rest of the hamlet. None of the houses were untouched, although they weren’t all as shredded as the one of the mother and son.

Several people were still being retrieved from two of the houses, and Gwen rushed to help. Charlotte was about to follow her when she noticed an old lady standing on her own at the edge of the chaos.

She crossed over to her, concerned.

“Are you all right, Grandmother?” she asked. “Are you injured or missing someone?”

“I’m not your grandmother,” the gray-haired woman snapped, but there was an amused twinkle in her eye that softened her tone.

“No, indeed,” Charlotte said politely. “But I would offer you aid anyway if you’re in need of it.”

“Aid, is it?” The woman raised her eyebrows. “And here was I, thinking you were the one who brought this on them.”

Charlotte paled. So someone had noticed them riding in on the wind after all.

She bowed her head. “It wasn’t our intention. We ride in rescue of others, but the person who has wronged us is a powerful foe.” The fire in her belly flared up again. “She is the one truly to blame for this catastrophe.”

The woman chuckled. “I’m glad to hear you see things clearly. So what do you intend to do about it?”

Charlotte glanced back at Gwen, who was ferrying a bucket of water toward a small fire that had sprung up in the wake of the various collapses. Others rushed to help her, and they soon appeared to have the fire under control.

“We’ll do everything we can, although I fear we’re ill equipped for this sort of work.”

“Not about the hamlet,” the grandmother said, exasperated. “About this powerful foe.”

Charlotte winced. “I’m not sure what we’ll do about her either.” Her eyes narrowed. “But we’ll find a way.”

The woman patted her on the arm. “That’s the spirit.” She leaned close as if about to impart a secret, and Charlotte responded instinctively, also leaning in. “You have to be in the fight if you want a chance of winning it.”

Charlotte pulled back, fighting a smile. From the old woman’s air of great significance, she hadn’t expected such a familiar saying.

“Very true, Grandmother,” she said. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

The woman gave her a tart look, as if she could read Charlotte’s thoughts. “See that you do.”

Charlotte turned to leave. “If you’re truly uninjured, I should see if there’s someone who needs my help.”

“Wait a moment, wait a moment,” the woman cried testily. “You young things are always in such a rush. Give me a moment.”

Charlotte waited obediently, trying to hide her impatience to join Gwen and do something to help.

“It’s here somewhere,” the woman muttered before giving a cry of triumph and producing a golden ball.

Charlotte stared at it, bewildered. When the woman held it toward her with an imperious gesture, she reached out her own arm, and the woman dropped it into her hand. She stared down at the ball, which fit comfortably into her palm.

It looked and felt as if it were made of real gold, but it was far too light to be solid.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “What is this?”

“It’s a gift,” the woman said with satisfaction. “Rumor says it will help you find your true love.”

Charlotte looked up sharply, and the woman smiled. “You are looking for your true love, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but—”

“Don’t bother me with silly questions,” the woman said with a return of her earlier tartness. “Don’t they teach young people manners in this part of the world? If you receive a gift, you should thank the giver, not pester them.”

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