The Poison Season(15)

The diversion worked. There was a pretty, young woman who sold the honey, and Story would make her own assumptions from there. “She only comes every other week,” Story said, linking her arm through Jaren’s.

“Why do you think the people here are so obsessed with magic?” he asked in a low voice as they strolled the market. “Is it the thin mountain air? Too much time on their hands?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I can sort of feel it myself, when I’m in the forest. It feels different from the forest back home.”

They had moved from a city more than two weeks away by horseback when Klaus, who had known Jaren’s mother as a girl, had written to Stepan, describing the bountiful forests, clean air, and welcoming community. So far, it had all proven to be true, for the most part.

But Jaren still didn’t understand what everyone was talking about, not even his sister, who wasn’t prone to superstition. The forest just felt like a forest, albeit a quiet one.

They had made their way back to where the old man was still spinning his yarn about the wolf, which had now grown to the size of a cottage. Quite a crowd had gathered by this point, and Story tugged Jaren over to listen.

“My dog went after it,” the old man said. “I kept trying to call him back, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Are you sure you weren’t drinking again, Thom?” a younger man asked. “Your stories tend to get more fanciful the more ale you’ve consumed.”

“It was a troll the last time,” someone else said.

“Fairies, the time before that!”

Jaren found himself nodding in agreement. It seemed there were at least a few people in this village with some sense.

But the old man ignored their jibes and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a massive fang, bigger than any Jaren had ever seen. “I yanked this out of my poor Alfie, once the wolf abandoned his body. And don’t tell me you’ve ever seen the likes of it, unless you’re all drunk yourselves!”

Jaren and Story shared a wide-eyed look and slowly backed out of the crowd.

Once they were on the trail back to their house, Story turned to Jaren. “That was...”

“Strange? Bizarre? Disturbing?”

Story nodded emphatically. “Yes.”

“Even I have to admit that was an impressive fang.”

“Starting to believe in magic now, are you?” she asked, bumping him with her shoulder.

Jaren scoffed. “Hardly. But I am starting to believe the people in this village are even nuttier than I thought.” He gestured to Story’s satchel. “What did you buy for Tadpole?”

“Oh, just some cod liver oil. I’m going to tell her it’s a fever remedy. Hopefully it tastes so terrible she won’t be tempted to fake an illness again anytime soon.”



Chapter Nine


Time is going by too quickly, Leelo thought as she and Sage made their way across the island to their patrolling spot for the day. She had continued to sleep in Tate’s room since the night of the festival, and Ketty even managed to refrain from scolding him when he burned the supper. But though Fiona had seemed better for a little while after the spring festival, her condition had worsened since. She was hardly able to get out of bed most days, and Leelo suspected it was at least partly from the knowledge that her only son was leaving. Tate managed to keep a brave face for his family, but at night he cried in his sleep.

Spring was finally here, at least, and the island was blanketed in green, with more flowers bursting through the soil every day. There was to be a slaughter tonight, a ritual killing of an animal by each family to thank the Forest for its abundance and protection from the outsiders. After this, the Forest would be fully awake. Leelo was dreading it, the smell of the blood, the harsh, angry notes of the killing song. But she knew she would have to go, and there was no point fighting it.

Sage nudged Leelo with her elbow as they sat on a log, watching the opposite shore. “He’s going to be fine, you know.”

Leelo twirled a piece of grass between her fingers. “But I don’t know that, Sage. I’ll never know.” She thought of the fire Tate had promised to make for her, but she had no idea if he would be able to manage it. He was still so young, and if outsiders were half as bad as Ketty said, he could be in great danger.

“He’s a smart boy,” Sage said. “He’s more resourceful than you give him credit for.”

“He’s not even twelve. What were we doing at his age? Playing with the lambs and gathering mushrooms? He’s never been on his own. We might as well be throwing him to the wolves.”

Sage was quiet for a moment. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I don’t know how to make this easier for you.”

Leelo wiped her damp cheeks on her sleeve. “You can’t make it easier. No one can.”

“Then what can I do?”

Leelo looked her cousin in the eyes, relieved to find there was genuine concern there. “Try to understand what this is like for me. And if you can’t, then just be kind.”

“I think I can manage that.” Sage slung her arm around Leelo’s shoulders. “Will you come back to our room, after he’s gone? It’s been lonely.”

Leelo nodded. “I will. I just... I wanted to have as much time with him as I could.”