As Daks drove the cart through the city gates, he couldn’t help but note the nearest bell tower. He checked himself and Ora into The Wolf’s Bane Inn. Once they had taken their belongings upstairs, the two of them returned downstairs to the bar and dining area.

  They squeezed through the swarms of people to find an available table. They sat down at one in the center of the chaos. The anarchic atmosphere had enthralled Ora, very different from the farm. She kept turning her head to see where each sound was coming from.

  A beautiful, buxom woman with a large mass of blond hair stacked on top of her head scurried over to their table a moment after they sat down. She slammed a large, frothy mug on the table in front of Daks and a smaller wooden cup of milk in front of Ora. She had to speak loudly over the cacophony, but she had the ideal voice for the task. “I saw you come in! Here’s your usual! Good to see you two!” She leaned down and hugged Ora tightly. “How’s my favorite little darling?” She rested her hand on her hip.

  “Good, Daem Renny!”

  “Of course you are! You’re the happiest child I know! And, Daks, how is the farm? Are the chickens behaving?”

  “Can’t complain! The chickens are giving us eggs, even if they fight us a bit for them.”

  “HA! Well, I suppose that’s all you can ask for. Now, I just had some fresh chicken pot pie come out. How does that sound?”

  Ora slapped the table several times. “Oh, yes, yes, please! Yours has the best crust! I can’t get ours as flaky, but Daidi says if I keep trying, I will someday!”

  Renny feigned fear as she placed her hands over her heart. “Oh, no! Well, don’t come after my job now!” She smiled. “I’ll be back with pie.” She disappeared as she pushed her way back through the crowd.

  Renny had been a good friend, especially right after Quin’s death. She and her brother, Cathmor, a widower of ten years, had been so kind to him with many late-night talks and hugs and tears.

  Cathmor waved at Daks from behind the bar. The joke had always been that Cath was the blond version of Daks—beard, thick muscular build, tall. They even both had brown eyes. “Daks! Ora! I’ll be right over!” He turned and filled up a pint of beer from the tap.

  Daks heard a gulping sound. He turned to see Ora, her cup covering her face as she swiftly swallowed all the milk in her cup. She clapped the cup down onto the table and whispered a loud and satisfied, “AAHHHH.” She looked up at him, sheepishly, now wearing a thick milk mustache. “The men are always doing that. I wanted to try!”

  Daks laughed. “What did you think?”

  “Men are strange.”

  Daks laughed some more. “Well, now you have a mustache like Daidi.”

  “Oh, no!” Ora looked around, but there were no napkins, so she wiped her face with her shirt sleeve. “Is it gone?”

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  “Yes, milysh.” He smiled at her. Her little braid was loosening after a long day, and curly wisps had fallen around her face. He pushed some of the wisps back behind her ear.

  Ora wore a tired smile. She was better at enduring the day-long journey to town now that she was older. She had read from one of her books most of the way, a story about a rabbit turning into a butterfly. He was glad that Quin had taught Ora how to read before she—a lump rose in his throat. Quin was better at that sort of thing. He had been able to teach Ora things like milking cows, some cooking, and other things. He still would have to bring Ora to town to further her learning eventually. Smart like her mother, she would quickly surpass him.

  “Here you go!” came Renny’s boisterous voice as she slogged two plates of chicken pot pie down in front of them. “Ora, I got you the best piece in the whole pie!” She looked at Daks. “Anything else right now?”

  “We need some forks and napkins,” Daks said.

  “Oh! Yes!” Renny rushed away and back with napkins and forks. Then she ran off again.

  “Would you like to bless the food?” Daks asked.

  Ora nodded.

  They crossed their hands over their chests.

  “O Gracious Eric, we are so grateful for this food and drink and for the roof over our heads tonight. Atcha.”

  “Atcha,” Daks echoed.

  They both scarfed down their munchings.

  As they sat, recovering from eating too quickly, Daks turned to Ora. “Rae-Rae, how have you been with Prim living with us?”

  “I love Prim! She’s so nice, and she gives really good hugs when I’m sad.”

  Daks smiled. “So you like having her around?”

  “Yes, Daidi! I want her to stay with us forever!”

  Daks’ stomach churned.

  What would Quin say to him allowing this strange woman stay in their home? Quin was one of the most gracious people he had ever known. But would she be so quick to allow someone who had just committed murder to stay in their home with their child? Wearing her clothes?

  “Daidi?”

  “Oh, sorry, milysh. I was thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “Prim.”

  Ora giggled. “We all like her so much!”

  The dining hall had cleared out a bit. The sound of children playing wafted over from across the room. They were all gathered in a circle in the corner, playing marbles or cards.

  “Daidi, my friends are over there. May I go play?”

  “Give Daidi a hug first.” He held her for a moment, cherishing her still small but quickly growing figure. Then released her. “Have fun! I’m going to go take a nap.”

  Daks watched as Ora ran off to join the group. Then he let Cath and Renny know Ora was staying downstairs.

  He wandered up to the room, collapsing on the bed into fitful dreams of blood and wolves and fire.

  Prim sat by the fire, sewing a torn dress of Ora’s. It was a beautiful, dreamy green thing that Ora loved because of how it floated up when she twirled.

  The boys had gone out after dinner because the cows had gotten out again.

  Prim looked toward the window, out into the dark. The cows and chickens had quieted for the evening, so the distant crashing of waves against the cliffs below had become less ignorable.

  Someone, or some thing, had saved her the night before she came to this farm—hadn’t they? How?

  They would not have saved her if they knew what she had done mere hours before. She didn’t deserve the breath in her lungs. Aiglentine didn’t have the luxury of oxygen today—and she never would again.

  The night Prim came to the cliffs her thinking had been so muddled from drink and despair. Mayhaps she’d never know what had really happened. It was all too much. Whatever it was—a dream, a hallucination…or reality—it kept playing over and over. The wolf. The figure made of the brightest golden light. She couldn’t push it out of her mind. But she hadn’t been able to make herself tell Daks that part of the story. If she couldn’t believe it, there’s no reason to think he would.

  She should run. She should leave before they returned. She could make sure all the chores were all done and then…then what? Where would she go?

  She looked out the window again. She knew exactly where she would go.

  She fought to focus on the needle and thread as she slowly weaved it in and out of the fabric.