Page 33 of Dream Weaver

Startled cries rose up from the tourists.

Abby looked up, wide-eyed. Then she dragged the ax a few inches, creating a faint line parallel to the one already there.

There was no sound, but I was somehow reminded of the rumbly, dangerous noise bears made when they emerged from winter dens.

Abby stared at her creation, then motioned for the vintage ax. When we swapped, I held the ax she’d forged as far from my body as I could.

Abby raised the vintage ax, aiming for the same spot.

“Um, maybe you shouldn’t—” I started.

Too late. The pick end sliced into the ground, and we both waited warily. But there was no rumble this time. No disturbance at all.

Abby swapped the axes one more time with the same results. The earth groaned from a hit with the tool she’d crafted, but the vintage Pulaski set off no reaction at all.

“You try.” She handed me the new ax.

A cold breeze snuck under my collar, sending chills down my back.

I stuck my hands up. This was one of those times when a smart bear would head for the hills.

“I need to see if it’s the ax…” She swallowed hard. “…or me.”

I stared. If I found the slightest hint of malice — or madness — in there, I was out of here. But Abby’s eyes revealed a soul that was scared and confused. A lot like me.

Raising the ax slowly, I gave the earth a meek tap no firefighter worth their salt would waste their time with.

When it hit the ground, I cringed. But there was nothing. Just the quiet scrape of steel over rock.

“Try again,” Abby urged. “Harder.”

I did it again — and again. Still nothing.

We swapped back twice more, with the same result each time. The only combination that caused a reaction was when Abby used the ax she’d made.

Which meant…what exactly?

Witch,a voice in the back of my mind warned.She made the ax that disturbs the vortex, and there’s only a disturbance when she’s the one hefting it.

I followed her gaze as it ran along the original furrow we’d left untouched.

“That was from this morning, huh?” I asked.

She nodded quietly.

“And you weren’t the one who did it?”

She shook her head, looking spooked.

Yikes. Did that mean there was another witch on the loose with another spelled ax?

Definitely time for a smart bear to make tracks. But I just stood there, wondering what was worse: a witch who knew exactly what she was capable of or one who had no clue?

Any bear in his right mind would absorb all this with a mix of fear, loathing, and disgust. But I only registered thefearpart. Abby might be a witch, but she seemed okay.

More than okay,my bear whispered.

A little rough around the edges, maybe, but she worked hard. Plus, she was a loving mother with unwavering devotion to her child. Values any bear could relate to, even if parts of her life were kind of a mess.

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