I went to the hall and poured some water from the pitcher into the basin. I rarely looked in the mirror, usually just a quick glance, but I had to clean the blood from my face and straighten the nest of hair on my head. A flash caught my eye and for a moment I thought the pendant was reflecting light from somewhere in the dark hallway, but I dismissed it because my brain was still muddled from sleep. When I examined it closer, I saw I'd gotten blood on it from my hand so I rinsed it as well. I lingered there, clutching it tight in my hand. It was a comfort to hold, it seemed to warm something deep within me. I vowed to keep it on as I shook off a thought from the dream coming back to me and headed for the door.
It was a gloomy day and I didn’t miss having to squint away the bright sunlight. It was early too, so I decided to take the long way to town. I meandered through the fields thinking of all that had passed in the last days. I reached a patch of weeds that reminded me of Evelyn's taunting and felt a spasm in the pit of my stomach at the thought of her choking. And then I remembered growing the weeds in the garden. I was suddenly in a rush to get to Junnie’s.
I rapped our special knock, and in a heartbeat, Junnie was opening the door. “Morning, Freylina. Early start today?”
My voice was determined. “Yes, I want to practice growing.”
She glanced quickly at the pendant against my chest. She was silent for a moment as she looked into my eyes, almost searching. Probably worried I was sad or missing my mother. “No, not today," she said. "It seems I have business with the council this morning.” Her mouth turned down in a tight grimace at the thought.
“Oh.” Okay, not like I didn’t have plenty to do, I’d just head to the library and try to find the missing pages to the northern clan documents. “Well, I’ll see you then.” I smiled at her and headed around back again to cut through the village.
I took my time to allow her to make her way to the council building. As I scuffed my feet along the path, I heard angry whispers and glanced up to find their source. Virden Day was leaning toward a dark figure, wearing a harsh face and pointing out fingers on his other hand. Counting reasons for his argument? The figure turned his head as if scanning for an audience. He found one–me. As his eyes hit mine, I felt I should look away but something kept me as I was. It was him again, Chevelle Vattier.
I swallowed hard and forced my feet to continue walking, though this time trying not to drag. I followed the path as it wound closer to them, knowing it would eventually split, heading to the gate or to the library. I hadn’t decided how to make my escape when he turned back toward Virden and spoke something low, cutting the conversation off completely. Virden shot me one quick look, apparently irritated at me for interrupting the discussion, and stormed into his tree.
Chevelle remained standing where he was, his back to me. I had to decide, library or gate. Walk within feet of him going to the library to research him or run home and hide. My stomach churned. It was ridiculous. I took a deep breath and kept walking, approaching the split.
He turned to me, scarcely a few feet away. “Good morning.” He nodded at me as he spoke, his voice as smooth as velvet.
Close your mouth, close your mouth! I snapped my slack jaw shut at the same moment I realized I had unconsciously angled my body toward him when he spoke. Damn it! Okay, you can recover this; just keep going in this direction like you were on your way to town, because you were on your way to town.
I tried to respond to his greeting but felt choked and instead only nodded back, my mouth tight as I endeavored to grin with a now clenched jaw. Ugh.
I kept going up the path, not daring to look back in case he was behind me. I was convinced he was, he wouldn’t be taking the back way to Junnie’s as I had come, and he wouldn’t be leaving the village without a pack; he was likely going to a council meeting. Yes, he was certainly right behind me, following me into town. Abruptly, the simple act of walking became impossibly complex.
Somehow, I made it to the library without tripping or looking back, though I was nearly overcome with the temptation to turn at the door to see him one more time.
I found a dark, empty corner on the third level and finally relaxed onto a seat, leaning against the inside wall of the old tree. After a few minutes, I decided to attempt to locate the missing pages by magic. I had, after all, succeeded in growing only days ago. I concentrated as hard as I could and, though nothing flitted out of the shelves and onto my desk, I had a strong feeling I knew where the documents were. It also could have been because I knew where they had fallen from the day before.
Whatever the reason, I made my way over and took a few volumes and scrolls back to my secluded table. I was able to find several documents on the northern clans and even one of the missing pages of names–L. I had spread them out on the table and was studiously examining them when a shadow crossed my desk. I realized someone was standing there and distractedly glanced up to see who. My instinct to breathe deserted me; it was Chevelle Vattier.
Chapter Three
Black Roots