Page 5 of Matches and Mistletoe
She also liked the room because it had a latch on the inside.
Cautiously she slunk back to the worktable and stood beside it until the Felwitch looked up.
“May I have a blanket?” she asked.
With a grim nod toward a chest overflowing with quilts, he returned to his work.
Emboldened, Thistle made several trips back and forth from his room to hers, borrowing various items—quilts, cushions, more candles, and some painted marionettes she liked. She asked him for each object, and he assented wordlessly.
Finally she returned for the book he had given her, carried it to her new room, latched the door, and sat cross-legged on the bed.
Stoic and strange though the Felwitch might be, with his odd habits and his Fae heritage, she rather liked having someone else in the same house with her. Since Granda’s death, their tiny cottage had seemed so empty.
But the Fae were notoriously licentious, driven by lustful instincts. She must be cautious. Hence the latch on the door.
She had no sooner opened the book to its first page when the door burst open, the latch snapping in two. The Felwitch filled the entire doorframe; he had to stoop a little. “Come. It is time to go.”
“Go?”
“It’s an hour until midnight, and we have a long way to walk.”
Thistle noticed he had a bundle of firewood on his back.
She set the book aside and rose from the bed. Despite the thunder of her heart, she stared up at him defiantly. She was taller than most women in her village, so the top of her head came to his chin. “Have you changed your mind, then? Are you going to sacrifice me to some eldritch deity?”
“What?” His eyebrows shot up. “Gods, no. I have something to do at midnight, and I cannot leave you here unsupervised.”
“I’m not a child.”
A subtle heat flared in his eyes, and his gaze dropped to her chest. Only for an instant. “I never said you were. Now come, or I shall bind you and bring you along.”
“I would rather stay here and read. I promise I will not touch your things.”
“You’ve already claimed a number of my things as yours. And I don’t trust the word of humans. For the last time—come.”
Grumbling, she followed him down the corridor to the front door.
“Wait here,” he ordered before disappearing into his room. When he came back, he carried a thick hooded cloak and a pair of gloves. He shoved them into Thistle’s arms, threw open the heavy front door, and strode out into the crystallized night.
Snow crunched under Thistle’s boots as they crossed an open space, headed for the trees. When she looked back, she saw the house whole—gray stone and beams and pale plaster, corners and gables and peaked roofs jumbled together and stacked atop each other. The blank-eyed windows seemed to stare back at her.
Shivering, she pulled on the cloak and gloves and hurried after the Felwitch.
As he had warned, the walk was a long one. They passed through a section of the forest where the trees grew dozens of stories high, with short naked branches all up their trunks until the top, where their boughs swept outward, draped with evergreen fronds.
Then they skidded down a slope of powdery snow, into a ravine where the trees were entirely different—crooked and gnarled, black as coal, and threaded with thorns. Those craggy trees hunched over the path like old men trying to seize Thistle with their sharp-nailed fingers. She stayed as close to the Felwitch’s cloaked back as she dared.
At last they came out of the tunnel of crooked trees, into a clearing surrounded by a wall of thickly woven branches.
The Felwitch lifted his hand and the snow skittered away from a spot on the ground, leaving a bare circle of earth. Kneeling, he arranged the sticks of firewood and lit them with a snap of his fingers.
The casual display of magic tightened Thistle’s lungs. Inhaling the familiar scent of wood smoke, she crept a little closer to the warmth.
The Felwitch was still kneeling, but he stared past the dancing flames. “Do you see them?” His voice was ragged.
“See who?” Thistle peered around.
“Among the trees. Look there. The large one with the big knotty branch? Just beside it—do you see?”
