Page 16 of A Bridge to a Troll's Heart
His bridge began to feel like a prison. Arlo studied his rack of tributes: shiny baubles, finely shaped twigs, pinecones of all varieties, foreign coins, a necklace, the five rounded stones, and the miniature painting of a tree he’d treasured. All trinkets he loved, but trinkets nonetheless. His only friend lived round the bend, and he couldn’t go that far to see him. The tributes were only links in the chain that bound him to the bridge.
Settling heavily on his bed, Arlo plucked the little wolf from his shelf and warmed him within his palm. He curled around the tiny carving and willed himself back to sleep.
With any luck, he’d dream of wolves racing through the forest, wild and free.
CHAPTER6
September
Toby
Try as he might,Toby could think of no reason to travel to Fern Pack and back, but he wanted to see Arlo, so he slung his bag over his shoulder and took off for the bridge anyway. Perhaps he’d come up with a good excuse before arriving.
He didn’t.
On the way, he thought about how he’d been longing to kiss Arlo for months. He vowed to gather his courage and do it. He didn’t care that Arlo was a troll and not a wolf; he cared only that no one else had ever set the butterflies in his stomach to dancing the way Arlo did. And he suspected Arlo felt the same way.
Of course he did, Toby assured himself as he trotted along the well-worn path. Arlo wouldn’t have singled out a place of honor for Toby’s gift if he didn’t fancy him, would he? And the way Arlo looked at him, the way his eyes twinkled and his cheeks went purple, surely those reactions meant something, didn’t they?
Toby would find out.
He rounded the bend in the trail, his belly tingling with anticipation, and scanned the landscape. The day, which had begun cool and foggy, had warmed under the sun’s yellow rays. Dust glittered like stars caught in the beams, and the leaves had turned from the bright greens of summer to the warm oranges and reds of autumn. Days like this brought fond memories of late garden harvests and hot spiced ciders with his family.
Toby picked up his pace and headed for the river, the soothing rush of water doing nothing to calm his nerves despite the perfect day.
Arlo stood in the meadow on the opposite side. He hadn’t spotted Toby. He held a rake and glared at a massive pile of leaves as the wind took the top layer into the air and scattered them across the grass.
Toby raced across the bridge, his footsteps echoing loudly. Arlo whipped around. His chest puffed out, clearly ready to demand tribute, but when he saw Toby, his whole demeanor softened. A smile graced his lips.
Toby grinned, and an idea formed in his mind. The irresistible leaf pile called to him. Surely Arlo wouldn’t mind…
He flew across the meadow and leapt into the mound with a joyful whoop. The leaves cushioned his fall, leaving him sprawled in the center. He brushed the stragglers from his shoulders as he sat up.
“Hello, Arlo,” he said between chuckles. There was nothing quite like running full speed into a pile of leaves.
Arlo stared at him with a curious expression on his face, halfway between amused and annoyed. “You’re here,” he grunted.
“Yes.” Toby climbed to his feet. “Something told me I must visit you today, and I’m glad I did, for this is the finest leaf pile I’ve jumped in for ages. You should have a go.”
Arlo stepped in and knocked a few stray leaves from Toby’s clothes. “Why would I do that?”
“Because it’s fun. Doesn’t it look fun?”
Arlo considered him, brows arched.
“Hand me the rake.” Arlo did, and Toby raked the pile back into order. “All right, it’s ready for you.” He put the rake aside and pressed both hands to Arlo’s chest, pushing gently. “You have to back up to give yourself some room.”
Arlo let Toby move him into place. Toby may have left his hands on the troll’s chest longer than was strictly necessary, but the soft flesh covering those hard muscles was too enticing to let go. He gave Arlo’s chest a pat, then stepped aside.
“All right, now you. Close your eyes when you hit so dust won’t get in.”
Arlo didn’t budge. He cocked his head to the side and grumbled, “You want me to jump into the leaf pile?”
He’d made that relatively clear, hadn’t he? “Yes.”
“But I’ll scatter it.”
“Who cares?”
