Page 4 of The Witch's Cottage
“Sudden change? An emotional outburst?”
Lydia shrugs. “Wish I could remember. Anyway, the carpenter’s house is at the end of the road. It’s the only one there, impossible to miss.”
Someone calls her name from the other side of the shop, and she wipes her hands on her apron before heading in their direction. I turn for the door, Harrison walking along dejectedly at my feet.
“Oh!” Lydia says as I reach for the door. “Tell Alden I say hello.”
The little bell chimes as I open the door, and then Harrison and I step back outside into the cold. A crisp breeze tosses my hair around my face, enveloping me in a world of green, and I blow it out of my eyes with a big breath.
“That shop was disappointing,” Harrison says.
“I’m sorry.” I frown down at him. “I promise I’ll grow you some starberries this summer.”
“And the wispfish?” he says, tone grumpy.
As if he spoke it into existence, I spot a little fisherman’s stand in the village square.
“Come on.”
We head over, and the fisherman removes his cap and flashes me a crooked smile. “Morning, miss. Can I interest ye in some fish?”
Harrison hops onto a barrel beside the stand, green eyes wide.
“Do you have any wispfish?” I ask.
“Sure do. Fresh out of Moonstone Lake this morning.”
I catch Harrison’s eye and arch a brow. “We’ll take the whole catch.”
“See,” I say, swinging my much-heavier basket as Harrison and I head down Hillock Lane in search of the carpenter’s house. “Faunwood isn’t so bad.”
Harrison doesn’t answer, but he’s not moping anymore, so that’s something.
My boots click across the cobbles as we walk south. It doesn’t take long to spot the dead tree Lydia told me about; it’s right there in the crook of the road, still blackened from the bolt of lightning. There’s a certain elegance to it still, with its bark burned away and its skeletal branches reaching toward the sky. Even in death, there is beauty.
We turn south, and the cobbles shift to dirt under my feet. Harrison catches scent of something, and he dashes off into the crinkly dried underbrush, leaving me to walk down the thin wooded lane by myself.
Pine trees and ghostly white aspens rise up on either side of the road, whispering softly as the breeze weaves through them. I wore my warm skirts and thick stockings today, but the chill still slips though the fabric and into my bones, making me shiver.
“Smells like snow,” I whisper to myself, tipping my head back to look up at the gray sky.
I really hope I can get those holes patched before it snows again. We’re going to have some cold nights if I don’t...
I find a tiny dwelling at the end of the road. It has a big pile of wood stacked up outside, and there’s a shed aroundthe side, its door standing open so I can see that it’s filled with saws and hammers and a myriad of tools. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around, so I head up the creaking front steps and knock on the weathered door.
Nothing happens. No sounds can be heard from inside, and no one calls out through the door. I knock one more time, then turn to leave, feeling a bit dejected.
Now how am I going to—
Just as my feet hit the dirt, the door opens behind me.
And when I turn, I have to physically clamp my teeth to keep my jaw from falling open. Because he is easily the biggest human man I’veeverseen.
Orcs are bigger, and so are some shifters, but this man towers at least a head above any normal human male.
When I finally pull my head out of the clouds and meet his eyes, I find them dark and narrowed and... glaring? Why is he glaring?
“Um, h-hello. I’m Aurora Silvermoon. Are you, uh...” For a brief moment, I can’t remember his name. I know Lydia mentioned it.
