Page 72 of Sweetling
Allarion tried to soften his features and hide his whirring thoughts.
“Forgive me, sweetling. I lost my way in my thoughts.”
Molly blinked up at him, her expression skeptical, but let him make his retreat. “All right. I’d tell you to sit down and eat something, but you don’t do that.”
“No,” he said numbly, although he did take her advice to sit.
Bellarand was less gentle.What’s wrong with you?
Allarion stared at his friend, feeling dazed.I’m not sure.
16
It was a quiet morning for Molly, which made her suspicious. Allarion wasn’t due for his next long sleep today, but even then, sometimes his projects were so quiet or so far away that she didn’t hear. Bellarand too could sometimes disappear and not be heard from all day.
But thatbothof them were so quiet had her a little worried.
So when Bellarand stuck his big head in the open top of the split door, she was more relieved than startled. She didn’t even mind when he nickered with disappointment that she hadn’t jumped with fright.
“And where have you been?” she asked.
Come, human. I need your thumbs,was his answer.
Quick as he’d come, his head disappeared back outside.
Baffled, Molly untied her apron, trading it on the peg by the door for her overcoat. Sliding her arms into the warm brown wool, she opened the bottom half of the door to follow Bellarand to the back of the manor, where a shed kept some ancient-looking hardware mostly dry.
Using his horn, Bellarand snagged a beaten tin bucket by the handle to give over to her. Inside lay a hammer and a collection of old nails.Take this,he told her,and grab that, too.He pointed his horn at an old set of folding steps.
“This won’t help,” she warned him, “I’ve hidden the carrots where you’ll never find them.”
That’s impossible,he retorted, tail swishing.I have but to plumb the depths of your mind, and depending on my mood, I may not be gentle about it. But carrots are for later. For now, bring that and follow me.
Molly didn’t know if he was joking, lying, both, or neither. Heart in her throat, she picked up the stepstool and hauled it with the jangling bucket behind the unicorn. She kept her grumbling to a bare minimum, too, just because she didn’t feel like chancing having the overgrown pony hoofing through her mind.
She paused at the tree line, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Molly had never ventured deeper than a few trees; all her time here, she’d kept to the drive or lawns surrounding the house. The wood was so vast, sodifferent…she couldn’t help a quiver of trepidation.
Come along,prodded Bellarand,keep up.
Molly pursed her lips and followed the unicorn, not wanting to seem a coward.
She shivered as they delved between the trees, leaving behind the meager warmth of the late-autumn sun. The air within the forest was cool and dense, rich with the scent of earth and decay. Browned leaves crunched underfoot, and Molly had to watch her steps for fear of catching a hidden root with her boot.
Bellarand led her with confidence, never deigning to inform herwhyshe was hauling the supplies through the forest.
It became immediately clear, though, when they came to a towering oak tree littered with holes in the bark.
“Oh, no,” she groaned. This was about the squirrels.
I asked for your help, not your commentary,he huffed.
“You didn’t ask at all,” she reminded him. Plopping the supplies on the ground, she planted her fists on her hips.
Please, Molly, help me?
She snorted. She was already here.
Unfolding the stool, she set it where he pointed and then hammered nails to attach it to the tree. All the while, the furry residents of the tree poked their little heads from their dens, angrily chattering and shrieking down at them.
