Page 24 of Just Crumbs

“A tree?” I ask.

He sits back with a smug look. “Oh, I’m the only one who sees it?” Hans huffs at Gerrit, and Flint growls a little, gazes fixed on the large man. He holds up his hands to placate the aggression being sent his way. “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you. We need to call a tree down large enough to be angled onto the dirt to climb up like a ramp. We’ll be far enough away from the circle that we won’t touch the ground near the spell’s radius.”

He crosses his arms across his chest in satisfaction, and I turn my head to Flint. “Will that work?”

“Yes, I believe Big Boy’s plan has a high probability of working.”

I throw myself into Gerrit’s arms and kiss him deeply. He pulls away eventually and sighs, “Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?”

“For setting me free.”

Chapter13

Broken

HANS

The sweat on my brow drips into my eyes, and I relish the burn that is the evidence of a hard day’s work.

The three of us worked through the night to set up for our escape, but when the sun rose, and Briar could not be outside any longer, Gerrit and I were on our own. Now it’s sunset, and Briar is exiting the house with our bags on her shoulder and a small one of her own. It couldn’t possibly hold much, but I imagine I wouldn’t want to take a lot with me from my prison either.

Flint is pacing nonstop, stressing me out with his nonstop rattling about the Banisher’s closeness. It appears the forest animals are keeping him regularly updated, which is helpful but also ramps up the urgency I feel, making it hard to focus.

I want nothing more than to free Briar from this awful prison she’s been confined to. At this point, I wouldn’t even care if she left us as soon as she got out and didn’t help us with Father. As much as that would hurt, she is a butterfly about to spread her wings, and I will not fault her for the result.

As I’m scratching sigils in the dirt, she approaches me and peers over my shoulder. Her hair is vibrant in the sunset, like lavender blossoms in the wind. Her skin looks red and tight, but she warned us that it happens in the sun.

“I’m drawing sigils to channel magic.”

She chews on her lower lip, scratching at the skin on her arms softly. “Never seen one of those before. My magic is just in me, I guess. It runs out if I don’t feed, obviously, but when it’s there, it’s just there.”

My laugh feels intrusive in the quiet woods. “You are a magical creature, butterfly. I am a human. I have to pull from the earth.” Her face warms and a sad smile flashes across her face momentarily before she turns away.

What was that?

I sit back on my heels and wipe my hands on my pants. “There. Ready as we’ll ever be.” Like my words summon him, Gerrit appears, arms full of useful things he’s pilfered from the house and surrounding areas. He slides the bags from Briar’s shoulders and proceeds to stuff them full of candles, knives, a small pot, and what looks like a bundle of fabric.

“Can I help?” Briar asks. The sadness from earlier is gone now, replaced by a steely resolve.

Scratching the back of my head, I turn towards Flint. “Could she push some magic into the sigils? Would that work?”

“In theory, yes. But her magic is relatively untested.”

“Hey! That’s not my fault!” she interjects, startling me. I’m still getting used to someone else being able to hear Flint.

“I never said it was, witch. It is the truth.”

She huffs and crosses her arms across her chest, the pouty look on her face driving me insane. “You ever going to use my name?”

Gerrit chuckles despite not hearing Flint’s side of the conversation. “Doubtful. I’ve been Big Boy since he came around.”

Briar grumbles under her breath but still moves to my side. “Then let’s give this a shot,” she says, eyes on the sigils.

Standing beside her, I chant low, the spell pouring off my tongue and into the ground. The sigil glows green underneath my hands. She looks at me, her rust-colored eyes now a rich, healthy red, proud and wide. My heart aches a bit looking at her, at how her skin has filled out, and the bags under her eyes have receded. Just a handful of regular feedings has changed her physically.

I can’t imagine what it’s done to her magically.

As the dirt begins to rise, burying the rocks of the fairy circle, Briar stares at the sigil with confusion. She reaches down, hand extended, only to be pulled back by Gerrit as my chanting continues. “If you break the sigil, you break the spell,” he says, holding her to his chest.

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