Page 9 of A Bridge to a Troll's Heart
“Is there a trick to hurling myself over the railing and onto the bridge?”
“Not really. It’s much easier to do than walking on your hands. You’ll manage.”
“Shall I close the curtain on my way out?”
Arlo wanted to say no so he could watch as Tobias disappeared over his bridge’s rafters, but he also wanted to sleep. “Please.”
“Goodnight, Arlo. Feel better soon.”
“Goodnight…Toby.” The nickname felt nice rolling off his lips.
Toby rewarded him with a wide smile, his gleaming white teeth on display. His whole face lit up when he grinned like that, eyes sparkling with joy. It was the last thing Arlo saw before the muslin drape obscured his view. He closed his eyes and committed the pretty picture to memory.
CHAPTER3
April
Arlo
Sweepingpollen from his bridge had become Arlo’s least favorite chore, mostly because the task never ended. Yellow dust swirled in the spring breeze; a thick layer covered everything. He scrubbed the stuff from nooks and crannies, only to have it reappear before he could sayachoo! His nose itched as another sneeze formed at the thought.
He was glancing in the direction of the trail that led to Toby’s village—as he often did, wondering what the wolf shifter was up to and when he’d return—when who rounded the bend but Toby himself!
Arlo perked up at the sight of him, a swirl of joyful anticipation rising in his chest, but Toby’s shoulders hung low, and his normally bouncy gate had vanished. Concern swallowed cheer. Arlo set his broom aside and left the bridge to meet him halfway.
As Arlo healed from his injured ankle, they’d gotten to know each other. Toby had checked in often until Arlo could look after things himself again. Then the visits dwindled to nothing. He figured Toby was busy, but in the back of his mind, he wondered if he’d done something wrong.
“Hello.” Arlo shuffled up to Toby, who’d stopped in the middle of the path.
Toby stared up at him, emerald eyes clouded with sadness. “Hello.”
Arlo wanted to ask what was wrong but didn’t want to pry. Instead, he said, “I’ve missed you.” Which, though true, didn’t seem the right thing to say at all. If it bothered Toby, Arlo couldn’t tell.
“I’ve missed you too.” Toby sighed. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stay long. I need to get to Fern Pack.”
“Is everything…well.” Arlo stumbled over the question. “That is, are you all right?”
Toby stared somewhere over Arlo’s shoulder. The sky boasted an array of puffy white clouds. Maybe he was watching those.
“I think if I talk about it too much, I will cry.” Toby sniffled, a telltale sign of his distress. “I should probably go.”
Arlo didn’t want him to cry. He stepped aside so Toby could pass.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” Toby straightened, a smile curving his lips despite his mood. “I’ve brought you a tribute.”
“You didn’t have to,” said Arlo, and he meant it, but at the same time, a spark of excitement tingled in his belly. He loved tributes. He couldn’t help it. All trolls did.
“Thank you for saying so, but I want you to have these.” Toby dug in his pocket, then held a closed fist out to Arlo. “Remember the game I told you about? Fivestones?”
Arlo opened his hand beneath Toby’s, and five rounded stones tumbled into his palm. He took a closer look. Each about the size of an acorn, they were pretty little things. Gray-and-white-mottled rocks, no two the same, and warm from being carried in Toby’s pocket. Arlo loved them instantly.
“Those were my grandfather’s. When he was a boy, he chose the stones from the river that flows beneath your bridge. I picked the best five. He had loads.”
Arlo would treasure them. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I will teach you how to play when I return.”
“Tonight?”
