Page 38 of Alien Huntsman

“There you are,” Agatha said cheerfully. “I was beginning to think I’d have to come look for you myself.”

Her mouth dropped open. She blinked several times, wondering if the woman was a hallucination brought on by too much sun. But no—the elderly woman was undeniably real, from her weathered boots to the knowing glint in her eyes.

“Grandmother Agatha? How—what are you doing here?” She clutched her basket tighter, suddenly aware of how far she’d wandered from the cabin. “Did Scarlett send you?”

Sensing her nerves, Storm growled softly, positioning himself between her and the newcomer. Agatha glanced down at the pup with a raised eyebrow.

“Well now, that’s an interesting companion you’ve found.” She crouched down, extending her hand to the pup with no sign of fear. “Adyani, if I’m not mistaken. Rare to see one so young away from its pack.”

She stared in astonishment as the pup sniffed Agatha’s fingers cautiously before allowing the old woman to scratch under its chin.

“How did you find me?” she whispered, her mind racing. “Everyone thinks I’m dead or missing, don’t they?”

Agatha straightened, her knees cracking with the effort. Her eyes, sharp and knowing, met Tessa’s.

“Not everyone, dear. Some of us knew exactly where to look.”

The elderly woman seemed so at ease, as though finding Tessa in the middle of the forest was entirely expected. But why was she here?

“Were you looking for me?” she asked, clutching her basket of berries tighter. “How did you know I was here?”

Agatha chuckled, the sound warm and rich against the backdrop of rustling leaves. “Looking for you? Heavens, no. I’m on my way to visit Scarlett and Finnar. I always take the mountain path—easier on these old bones than the road.”

“Visit Scarlett?” She blinked in confusion. “But that would mean…”

“That you’re quite close to the Vultor enclave?” Agatha’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Indeed you are, dear. It’s just beyond that ridge to the north.” She pointed with her walking stick. “And the village is barely an hour’s walk in the opposite direction, though the path is a bit steep.”

Her jaw dropped again. All this time, she’d believed Korrin had taken her deep into the wilderness, far from civilization. The realization that she’d been so close to both the village and the Vultor settlement was both shocking and oddly amusing.

“You mean I could have—” She stopped herself, remembering her failed escape attempt. If she’d only gone in the right direction that day…

“Your Vultor chose this spot quite deliberately, I imagine,” Agatha said, her gaze knowing. “Close enough to keep an eye on things, far enough to feel safe.”

She felt heat rise to her cheeks. “He’s not exactly my—” She paused, unsure how to define what Korrin was to her now. “How do you know about him?”

“These mountains hold few secrets from those who know how to listen.” Agatha bent down to scratch the pup’s ears again. “I’ve walked these paths longer than most remember.”

She shifted her weight nervously, unsure what to make of Agatha’s unexpected appearance. The old woman’s knowing eyes seemed to see right through her, as though all her secrets were laid bare.

“There’s been quite an uproar in the village since you vanished,” Agatha added, leaning on her walking stick. “Caused quite a stir, you did.”

“They noticed I was gone?” she asked, surprised. She’d always felt so invisible in the village, just the baker’s daughter who kept to herself.

“Noticed? My dear, it’s been the talk of the town.” Agatha’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Your stepmother tried telling everyone you’d run off—claimed you left a note saying you couldn’t bear village life anymore and needed adventure.”

“That’s ridiculous. I would never abandon?—”

“Of course it’s ridiculous,” Agatha interrupted with a dismissive wave. “Most folks didn’t believe a word of it. Especially not when Edgar started making a fuss about searching for you.”

The mention of Edgar made her skin crawl. She wrapped her arms around herself, grateful for the distance between them now.

“The bakery has suffered terribly,” Agatha continued. “Lenora hired some fellow from the next town over, but his bread is like eating rocks, and his pastries…” She made a face. “Well, let’s just say people are remembering your light touch with great fondness.”

A pang of regret shot through her chest. The bakery had been her father’s pride, his legacy. Though Lenora had made working there miserable, Tessa had always taken pride in maintaining its reputation. Now it was falling apart without her.

“My father worked so hard to build that business,” she said quietly. “People relied on us.”

“They did,” Agatha agreed. “Mrs. Jacobson complained just yesterday that she can’t serve proper tea anymore without your currant scones. And old Mr. Thatcher says his mornings aren’t the same without your cinnamon bread.”

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