Chapter 12

The hour was nearing late in the morning by the time Niamh and Amriel made their way home. The lively hum of barter and chatter had faded into the crisp evening air, replaced by the steady rhythm of their boots against the dirt path and the occasional distant chirp of a bird or cricket.

Niamh's basket rested heavily on her hip, while Amriel's pack tugged at her shoulders, both filled with onions, turnips, and sweet yellow potatoes. The rabbit meat Meeko had procured was lean, as expected for this season, but Niamh had already decided how to make it stretch.

"Stew it is," she had announced earlier, tone matter-of-fact, brooking no argument.

Up in the north, stews weren't just meals—they were survival. The growing season was short, fresh game was unpredictable, and waste was a luxury no one could afford. But Niamh's stews were more than a necessity; they were an art. Somehow, she always knew how to coax out every last bit of flavor, turning even the simplest ingredients into something worth savoring.

As they neared the farmhouse, the scent of woodsmoke met them first, curling in the cold air, a welcome contrast to the bite of the wind. The flicker of firelight danced through the windows, painting the night with a golden glow.

Yuriel stood at the open doorway, arms crossed over her chest, her stout frame silhouetted by the hearth behind her.

"Back already, girls?" her voice rang out, full of warmth.

"We got plenty for supper," Niamh said, adjusting the heavy pack on her back.

"That's my girl." Yuriel chuckled, stepping forward to greet them, her hands strong and calloused as she pulled them both into a firm embrace.

When they stepped inside the house, Amriel set her pack near the doorway, rolling her shoulders to shake off the stiffness. The house Simon and Nimah shared with their daughters was simple—worn wooden beams, a long table scattered with mismatched chairs, shelves lined with earthenware, and well-used cooking tools. But there was something grounding about it, something steady. It felt lived in, built on laughter, stubbornness, and years of shared meals.

She wasn't sure when exactly this place had started feeling more like home than her own, but it had.

After helping Niamh scrub and chop the vegetables, Amriel wiped her hands on a cloth and straightened. "I'll fetch the rabbit from the cold cellar," she said, keeping her tone casual even as her thoughts drifted elsewhere. "And check on my patient while I'm out."

Niamh stilled, her knife pausing mid-slice.

Her shoulders tensed before she turned, brows drawn together. "Riel, he might be awake now," she warned. "And I don't think it's a great idea for you to be walking into that house alone."

There was no accusation in her voice, just the quiet weight of concern.

Amriel forced a small smile, trying to brush it off. "I'll be careful."

"You say that every time, and yet…" Niamh exhaled, shaking her head. "At least wait for Simon. He shouldn't be much longer."

Amriel hesitated, but before Nimah could argue, a sudden wail erupted from the back room—one of the twins, loudly protesting some grave injustice.

Niamh groaned. "Not again," she muttered, already wiping her hands on her apron as she strode toward the noise.

Amriel seized the moment.

Before Niamh could turn back, she slipped through the door, her steps light against the cold-packed dirt of the path between their homes.

The entrance to the cold storage beneath her home was located outside the cottage. Niamh was right; she could simply retrieve the rabbit for dinner, and avoid the house altogether.

She could wait for Simon. That was the sensible choice. The safe one.

But that wasn't why she was here.

Her feet carried her forward before her mind could stop them, past the storage entrance, to the worn wooden door of the cottage.

She needed to know.

Bracing herself, Amriel eased inside, one hand instinctively curling around the hilt of her knife. She kept it hidden in her palm, a quiet reassurance rather than a threat. The cottage was bright, the light of the noon sun streamed through her windows.

It only took her an instant to see that he was gone.

The wounded man who had crashed through her door in last night's storm, unconscious and bleeding, had vanished.

A breath she hadn't realized she was holding slipped from her lips, relief washing over her in a sudden wave. He was alive. He had woken up. Good. That was good.

Earlier this morning, when Amriel saw how much his wounds had already healed, she couldn't help but feel a sense of surprise that he was still in a deep sleep. Most others would be awake by now. That was when she had worried.

As she ventured further into the empty cottage, Amriel's tense fingers relaxed their grip on the blade. With each step, she scanned the room, her eyes darting from one corner to another, searching for any visible indications of a struggle. But there were none.

In fact, there was an unexpected serenity that permeated the space. Even the blanket she had used to cover the man was folded with care and placed neatly at the end of the cot. Every detail left her with the impression that he had departed of his own accord.

A strange, unexpected weight settled in her chest. Disappointment? She wasn't sure.

A rustling at the door made her whirl, hand tightening on her knife—

Only to see Meeko saunter inside.

The large forest cat padded across the wooden floor, his cloud-patterned coat still warm from the sun, purring loud enough to fill the quiet space. He wove around her legs, his tail curling against her calf in a familiar greeting.

Amriel let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding and reached down, running her fingers through the thick fur between his ears. His purrs deepened in response, a steady, grounding sound.

"Hey, buddy," she murmured, scratching the back of his head. "Did you see him leave?"

Meeko chirped—a short, knowing sound, but of course, he wasn't about to offer any real answers.

She sighed, absently rubbing his ears as she straightened.

He folded the blanket.

The thought nagged at her more than it should have.

With a final stroke down Meeko's spine, she stepped back. "Don't get too comfortable," she told him as he stretched luxuriously by the hearth, the dying fire painting warm stripes across his fur. "We're expected at Simon and Niamh's for dinner."

Meeko licked a paw in response, utterly unconcerned.

Amriel hesitated for just a moment longer, casting one last glance at the empty cot. Then, shaking off the lingering thoughts, she turned for the door.

As Amriel circled the cottage, she found no further trace of him.

The cloak she had hung up to dry was gone, along with the armor she had carefully removed from his body. To her surprise, even the arrowheads she had extracted from his torso had vanished.

A soft sigh slipped past her lips, curling into the cool evening air. So that's it, then.

She told herself it was a good thing. Clearly, from the state of things, he had been well enough to leave on his own accord. She had other things to focus on—like the fact that she had somehow managed to decipher an ancient language that no one else alive could read. And that it had given her a warning.

One crazy thing at a time.

Bracing herself, Amriel pulled open the heavy oak door to the cold storage beneath the cottage, the old hinges groaned in protest, the sound echoing in the stillness, and a musty scent wafted out, mingling with the chill that seeped into the air.

Descending the short flight of steps, she let her eyes adjust to the dim light, scanning the shelves stacked with neat rows of jars. Berries, roots, dried meats, pickled vegetables. Winter provisions.

She grabbed the wrapped rabbit first, then hesitated before reaching for a jar of preserved berries. The twins would like something sweet tonight. And so would Niamh.

A smirk tugged at her lips as she tucked the jar into her bag, securing the rabbit under her arm.

Stepping back into the crisp air, she pulled the storage door shut and exhaled, feeling a fraction lighter. Maybe it was the certainty of the simple tasks, the normalcy of gathering food for supper.

At her feet, Meeko let out a small chirp, then trotted ahead, his thick tail waving high as he led the way across the field.

Even though the man may have left, Niamh and Simon were insistent that she still spend the night. Just in case.

Simon arrived shortly before sundown. The small house filled with the sounds of delighted children as the girls rushed in to greet their father as he walked through the door. Despite his exhaustion, Simon made sure to welcome his girls with open arms.

Soon after, they all gathered around the table to enjoy the stew that Niamh had prepared. As they sat there, Simon's eyes met Amriel's, conveying his concern for her safety. "Maybe it's for the best, Riel. You don't know who that man was or what he was capable of."

Amriel could only nod in response as she shoveled another spoonful of stew into her mouth. She savored each spoonful. The rich flavors of leeks, onions, and carrots tantalized her taste buds. The occasional nibble of rabbit added a touch of gamey delight to the meal.

She knew that Simon and Niamh wouldn't understand her disappointment. Especially since she couldn't even explain why she felt that way. But that was a conversation for another time. So, for now, she simply ate.

After dinner, came the slices of fresh bread smothered in sweet preserved berries. The girls' eyes widened with delight as they devoured the dessert, their faces, hands, and clothes quickly becoming covered in berry juices.

Niamh sighed at the sight but couldn't help but smile as she remarked, "Well, it looks like some of us will need a bath before bed."

Both women laughed as all the females around the table, twins included, immediately looked at Simon.

Forge work was tough, honest work, but it also left Simon smelling of sweat and ash. Even from across the table, Amriel could detect the lingering scent.

"Why are you all staring at me?" Simon asked innocently, his eyes wide as he licked his fingers clean.

Amriel woke before dawn, the soft glow of twilight barely illuminating the room. The rest of the family lay peacefully asleep upstairs, their rhythmic breathing filling the air like a gentle lullaby. All except for Simon; his snores reverberated through the loft, a thunderous backdrop to the morning stillness.

Gingerly, she rose from her makeshift bed beside the crackling hearth. Her bare feet brushed against the cool wooden floor as she fumbled in the dark for her boots.

How on earth do Niamh and the girls sleep through that? Amriel wondered with a smile, shaking her head at Simon's loud symphony.

She settled on the table bench closest to the door and quietly slipped on her worn boots. As she tied the laces, Meeko, her loyal companion, uncurled himself from the end of her bedroll, stretching lazily before trotting over to her side.

The mornings during this season remained cool, and before she left, Amriel stoked the fire back to life. Simon and Niamh always took such good care of her, and she wanted to repay their kindness by filling the house with warmth before they woke. It was the least she could do.

With Meeko leading the way, Amriel stepped out of the house and into the crisp morning air. She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the familiar scent of dew-kissed earth and blooming wildflowers. The cool breeze brushed against her face, invigorating her senses as she took a long, slow breath. Sunrise was less than an hour away, and this was the time of day she treasured most.

In the stillness of the land, the only sounds were the gentle chirps of early birds, their melodic songs weaving a tapestry of tranquility that wrapped around her like a warm blanket. After a moment of soaking in the peace, Amriel set off for home.