Page 10 of A Bridge to a Troll's Heart
“Yes. Have a good day, Arlo.” Toby headed for the bridge.
Arlo—torn between watching him leave and staring at the five little prizes in his palm—clenched his fingers around the stones and ran after Toby while he still could. He caught up to him on the bridge. Arlo knew what it was like to be sad and have no one to talk to.
“I’m sorry you’re having a hard day.” Arlo opened his arms tentatively. “If you want to talk about it later, I’ll listen.”
Toby sank into the embrace with a long exhale. He tucked his head under Arlo’s chin and wrapped his arms around his waist.
The soft strands of Toby’s ebony hair tickled his throat. The rise and fall of Toby’s chest, Arlo matched breath for breath. The warmth of his body beneath his soft, cotton shirt warmed Arlo’s skin.
Knowing Toby was sad made Arlo sad too. He gave the wolf shifter a comforting pat on the back. Then another.
“Thanks.” Toby’s voice came out muffled from where he spoke into Arlo’s chest. “I should go.”
“Travel safe.” Arlo released him.
Toby left the bridge and headed on to Fern Pack, leaving Arlo wondering what had happened to steal away his joy. With a restless sigh, Arlo turned his attention back to his responsibilities.
Arlo spent most of the day battling pollen and guarding his bridge. A water nymph swam beneath it, but Arlo didn’t demand a tribute from those who crossed below, only those who crossed above. Her name was Liosa. She’d said hello, tossed up a shell in trade for a particularly lovely leaf he’d found, and went on her way.
Normally Arlo would have been enchanted by the exchange, but his thoughts wandered back to Toby. He pulled the stones from his pocket and turned them over in his hand, memorizing the shape of each one. Such a thoughtful gift from a man who’d known many games as a child to a troll who’d known none. Arlo wished for a big family like Toby’s. He would have liked seven siblings to talk with.
That evening, having run out of things to do, Arlo sat on the plush, mossy bank of the river and watched the reflection of the clouds float along as day gave way to night. Bats fluttered by, turning pirouettes in the sky and catching bugs. Though Arlo usually enjoyed their performance, tonight he found himself preoccupied.
When Toby finally appeared in the distance, Arlo scrambled to his feet and squinted to see him better. Did he look happier? Had the bounce returned to his step?
As Toby drew close, Arlo decided both answers were no. Toby’s tired eyes were too puffy, and his steps too lumbering for him to be in his usual bright mood. He walked right up to Arlo without saying a word. Arlo opened his arms just in time for Toby to collapse into them.
“Oh no.” Arlo stroked his slender back. “What’s happened?”
“My grandfather died yesterday, and I had to bring the news to my sister. She didn’t have a chance to say good-bye.”
Arlo held him tighter. “I’m so sorry.”
“He’s been sick.” Toby sniffled into Arlo’s shirt. “I’ve been taking care of him, and I’d thought he would get better up until the moment he…didn’t.”
Toby’s shoulders shook, and hushed whimpers were smothered against Arlo’s bulk. They stood together as the night air cooled and dew formed, glistening on each blade of grass.
When Toby stilled and slowly leaned back, Arlo wondered what the right thing to say would be in this situation. Maybe it was better not to say anything at all. Instead, he kissed the crown of Toby’s head, gave his slight shoulders a comforting squeeze, and waited to see what Toby would need next.
When he’d left home to guard his own bridge, Arlo had lost everyone he’d ever cared about, but none of them had died. He could only imagine how Toby must feel.
Toby wiped his eyes with his sleeve and raised his gaze to Arlo’s. Though sadness lingered in the green sea of his irises, Toby was calm, and his breath came steadily.
“I’ve gotten your shirt all wet.” Toby pressed his hand to the spot on Arlo’s chest.
Arlo glanced at his shirt. He felt the damp of Toby’s tears through the fabric. “That’s all right. I don’t mind.”
“I feel a bit better now.” Toby’s voice grew stronger.
Arlo released the soft grip he had on Toby’s shoulders. “Good.”
“My sister asked after you. I told her you wouldn’t demand a tribute, but she packed us sandwiches anyway.” Toby swung off his pack, opened the flap, and rummaged inside. “I think I should eat. I’m suddenly very hungry.”
Arlo agreed. Toby looked as if a stray breeze might knock him over. “I’ll fetch a blanket. We can sit on the riverbank.”
He chose an older quilt from his collection and spread it over the grass. They ate ham and cheese on sourdough bread to the sound of the rushing rapids. When every crumb had been devoured, Toby shuffled closer and leaned against Arlo’s side.
“I’m sorry you lost your grandfather.” Arlo sensed Toby was ready to share. “Would you like to tell me about him?”
