Page 15 of Anwen of Primewood
Danver wriggles away. I wrench back and try to catch him before he darts to the ground. The fox jumps from my arms. I lunge for him, but from my already precarious position, I lose my balance. “Galinor!”
There is no way I’m going to right myself. Just before I topple off the horse, Galinor’s arm wraps around my waist, and he pulls me back. Once again firmly seated, I collapse against him and breathe a sigh of relief.
And then I giggle.
Galinor is irritated, and I try to stop. Instead, I end up snorting, and then I lose all composure. Still laughing, I twist around to apologize. His lips are set in a firm line, but his eyes give him away. He’s not as stern as he would like me to think.
“Thank you.” I smile even wider when he doesn’t respond. “Are you always this serious?”
“The fox stays on the ground from now on.”
Danver is ahead of us, darting in and out of the bushes. He seems much happier.
“Fine, but only if you promise to cheer up.”
He scrunches his forehead. “I am cheerful.”
I nudge his chest with my shoulder. “Then smile.”
He graces me with a fake, wide smile.
I laugh. “You can do better than that.”
Galinor looks away, shaking his head, but, despite himself, his lips quirk up on one side. Satisfied, I turn around, settle back, and once again scan the woods. Irving and Bran are somewhere ahead of us, scouting for boars. The two are excited at the prospect of flushing one out.
Galinor doesn’t share their enthusiasm. His sole focus is finding the eldentimber tree.
We pass a strange bush covered in blue leaves, and I think of Marigold. She would know what it is. I tried to persuade her to join us, but she was adamant about staying out of the woods.
“What is that?” I point to the bush. “I’ve never seen anything like it. There, up ahead, are more.”
Galinor shifts. “It means we are nearing the tree.”
I’m filled with excitement. I’ve never met a fairy, though my father tells me they are kind, benevolent creatures.
“Did Pippa honestly hold a fairy at knife-point?” I ask.
How cruel to snatch a tiny thing from the air and threaten its life—like a child plucking the wings from a grasshopper. I’ve only seen Pippa a few times, but I don’t think I will like her very much should I get to know her further.
Galinor laughs at the memory as if it is a fond one. “She did.”
I scoot forward so I am not sitting so close to him.
A strange clicking noise from one of the bushes catches my attention, and I strain to hear it.
“What is that?” I ask Galinor before I click back, trying to imitate the sound with my tongue and the roof of my mouth.
“Stop that,” Galinor says sharply.
“I’m just trying to draw it out. Don’t you want to know what it is?”
He shakes his head. “Not particularly.”
I scoff at his uneasy tone. “Listen to it—it’s tiny.”
I click again, and this time the creature responds. “Did you hear it?” I squeal. “It answered.”
I click. It clicks back. I click again, and this time a little brown creature pops from the brush and scurries up a branch, leaping from limb to limb to keep up with us. It looks like a squirrel, but it has large, round ears like a mouse.
