Page 64 of The Girl in the Forest

“I thought so at the time.”

She made a tutting sound. “People always think they’ll get some magic answer and their troubles fly away. But not you. Could tell that the minute I laid eyes on you, how he stood guard and you kept him on his toes, both of you so serious. Course, you wouldn’t know there’s no worry here.”

She sorted through my wet hair again. “We heard what you did at the Gathering, and there isn’t a wolf in Sutter who wouldn’t give his life to protect you and your man.”

“I’m not sure what we did that deserves protection.” Grayson, maybe, but I’d done nothing for the wolves in Sutter, and didn’t want any of them risking their lives for me.

“It’s how you faced Lec Rus. Few men still breathe after staring that Mule down.” Old Mae’s gnarled fingers drifted across my shoulders, tracing the moonstone runes inked on my skin. “Your man put these here?”

I nodded.

“He has a fine hand. I’ve seen runes in my time, but none like these.” She turned curious. “He put them there to protect against that girl-witch at the Gathering, the one who spelled the wolves?”

“It was protection from the nymphs.” I hugged my knees. “Was the girl from here?”

“Rumor says she ran from somewhere else, bartering her skills. Who really knows? The Mule denies all involvement. Says he never hired a witch. But it’s funny how the witnesses end up dead, the way he likes it. Buys and sells folks, thinkin’ they’re cattle. Steals them, even.”

She pulled her fingers through my hair, removing tangles as she pushed the strands aside. I felt her fingers at my nape, skimming lightly over my skin. I thought she was finding bruises, the cuts from the falling rocks. A few scrapes from the bush.

Really, I still looked like a total mess. More than rolling in mud.

“We’ve seen a few people come through here,” she said. “Those running from the Mule. Usually in poor shape. We do what we can for them. Let ’em go. Most never make it far, though. The patrols find them, drag them back to the Point and no one sees ’em again.”

Mule’s Point, the seat of power for the Alpen. I flinched and let her think she’d pressed against a sore spot.

“Sorry.” She patted my shoulder. “Climb out of that tub now. Sit on the stool with your back to the fire—not too close, but enough to dry your hair.”

She helped me stand, wrapped a clean patchwork quilt around my shoulders, and while I shuffled toward the stool, she set out her healing ointments. “I use the old remedies. Make a wound heal faster, but the smell isn’t always pleasant.”

I fanned strands of my hair to the side when she asked. Relaxed as her hands moved against my nape. “You get these bruises while visiting the witches?”

“I was disoriented,” I said. “Fell against the rocks while trying to get out.”

Her laugh sounded like a dry cough. “You don’t have to tell me. There’s lots I know about those witches. For a while, folks were going in all brave and coming out looking like ghosts. Said the witches were ranting on about someone like you coming. And someone like your man. A warning, they said. Heard tell Lec Rus got upset as hell. Wouldn’t surprise me if he did something about it since no one’s come out of that cave in some time.” She dragged a brush through my hair, smoothing the silver streak. “Wouldn’t be the first time for the Mule. He gets outraged over everything.”

Nerves squirmed beneath my skin. “What were the witches ranting about, Old Mae?”

“Talked about signs, of course. Bread and butter for seers. How in a time of peril there’d be two. One would open the door. The other would reap the vengeance. Worse was the prophecy. Talked about beware the one who strikes a king without a queen. Must have made sense to the Mule because he went crazy, looking for failles.”

Old Mae tugged the brush through my hair again; I hugged the blanket so she wouldn’t realize how hard I was shaking. “When was this?”

“Maybe a few months before the rumors started about you. Probably why the Mule risked attacking the Gathering. Imagines himself a king. Thinking he needed someone like you. Best you don’t stay around here much longer, give him a chance to find you. He’ll come with enough wolves, not even your man could fight them all.”

I shuddered. “We’ll leave as soon as we can.”

But I sensed a strange energy when I glanced at the rain-darkened windows, even though it was the middle of the afternoon. I wondered when Grayson would come.

Or if Jodan meant it when he said they would talk until dinnertime.

CHAPTER 17

Noa

When Grayson opened the door two hours later, I flinched. I’d been huddled by the fire, wrapped in the patchwork quilt that smelled of lavender and pine soap—two scents that barely covered the boggy smell of the ointment Old Mae smeared on my skin. My ankle throbbed and I had no ice for it—other than sticking my foot outside, which was as impractical as it was nonsensical. I blamed exhaustion. Being left alone for too long. And clothes that were still too wet to wear.

I was deep in feeling sorry for myself. Ashamed to say I enjoyed it. I couldn’t be fine or okay all the time, could I? Since dry clothes were in the backpack Grayson had, I’d been distracting myself. Ignoring my near nudity by thinking about what Old Mae said. More witches and warnings. Then I’d wondered if any Alpen wolf, even a rebel, could be believed.

“What do you think?” I asked, shivering in the gust of stormy air before Grayson closed the door. “Do you trust Jodan?”

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