Page 24 of The Girl in the Forest

I accepted the gift, stared down at the ancient leather through misty eyes. “Thank you.” Then, meeting Aine’s gaze, I said, “The other book… I’ll try to read it for you.”

“I know you will.” Aine looked up at my friends. “Gods-speed to you.”

Both Fallon and Laura nodded, using the slight head bow I’d used, while Levi turned bright red and bobbed his head several times, once he realized who he was facing.

“Visit anytime, Noa,” the Queen of the Forest trilled. She turned to her companions. “Come, come.”

And with a final shimmer, the magic brushed against my cheek, then withdrew like a fading breeze through an opening that turned into solid rock.

CHAPTER 7

Noa

I needed help during the hike home. Mace provided it, appearing without a word, just scooping me into his arms and carrying me back to Azul. I admired his strength since he never tired—or perhaps I’d lost more weight than I thought.

At least he hadn’t thrown me over his shoulder like I was potatoes and he didn’t care—the way he’d carried me when I’d been sick with worm poison. Of course, I’d vomited down his back that time, so maybe he’d learned his lesson.

Still, it was awkward, having the alpha who stalked me through a grocery store now treating me like I was precious. He’d said he couldn’t trust me because I wasn’t committed. He’d accused me of the arrogance in failure and here I was again… failing. I couldn’t even walk by myself.

When more wolves joined our procession, my awkwardness turned fretful. I thought Grayson might be one of them, but he wasn’t there, and when wolves gathered along the streets in Azul, silent and watching, I started trembling and couldn’t stop. They threw flowers beneath Mace’s feet, and I tried to scramble from his arms like a terrified fawn.

Or the rabbit. Remember her? How the sun turned her ears translucent, a blend of yellow and rose?

A sob choked when I remembered what Grayson said: She was beautiful, wasn’t she, Noa? Innocent, young, with golden light all around, and all you wanted was to photograph her, preserve that moment of life.

He’d been angry then, but the remembered anger grounded me, and when Mace stood me on my feet, I turned to Levi and hugged him.

“Thank you for saving me.”

“You saved me.” His face flushed. “Thought I’d return the favor.”

“Happy birthday.” I hugged him again, a little too hard as I asked if they were celebrating. Laura said with chocolate cake, offering to bring me a slice, but I countered and asked if they’d be willing to bring the whole cake, with candles, and the three of us could celebrate together. Levi nodded while Laura smiled. I hugged her before turning to Fallon, who laughed, put up her hands in protest, then came in for the count.

“Thank you,” I mouthed as she pulled away. She winked, said something about my “skinny ass.”

Mace had wisely disappeared when the hugging started, and as I mounted the stairs to my upstairs bedroom, I reminded myself this was real. No more illusions. But for fun… for nostalgia… for the magic… I thought about a steaming bath with flowers floating in the water.

While I was disappointed when I entered the quiet bathroom and found ordinary water waiting—I was also relieved. I didn’t need the perfection. Wouldn’t be numbed by it here.

That evening, the birthday celebration was a boon with its normalcy. Levi and Laura laughed. I managed a smile, and I held them both a little longer when we said goodbye. Then I slept in a bed that wasn’t cloud-like, but I loved the nubby texture of the sheets, and the cozy blanket was a luxury after the perfect temperatures of the wrinkle.

Leo arrived in the morning and did a thorough exam, prodding, frowning, and tsking until I glared at him. “I’m not six.”

He harrumphed, which sounded strange because he also tried not to smile. “You’re scrawny enough to be mistaken for seven.”

“At least nine,” I shot back.

“Sassy as ever.”

“How’s Oscar?” The question was heavy on my mind.

“If you’re up to it, we can visit him together.”

Twenty minutes later, Leo and I walked into Hattie’s Azul kitchen, a replica of the one she’d had in Sentinel Falls. I sat at the oak table and held Oscar’s hand while warmth moved up my arm, and I welcomed the flow the way a desert welcomes the overdue rain. His color returned. The spark brightened his faded eyes. Small signs, but they brought tears to Hattie’s eyes.

To my eyes.

Not every fear, Noa, hurts. Some heal.

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