Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 50898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 204(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 204(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
“You’re kind,” the woman said softly. “Kind in a way the world too often forgets.”
Fawn shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Not kindness. Just what’s right.”
They sat together in the hush of the forest, the sound of distant ravens carrying through the trees, until Fawn rose and offered her hand. “Come. I will take you to Clan MacBrair village and see about getting you settled.”
The woman hesitated, then with trust or fatigue winning over, placed her thin hand in Fawn’s. Her grip, though frail, was steady.
“My name is Elune,” she said.
“And I am Fawn,” came her reply. “It seems your path has led you to me, Elune.”
Sprig gave a soft, approving purr as if sealing the moment.
The two women walked slowly through the forest, Sprig content in his pouch, his small head poking out to watch the play of light and shadow through the multitude of barren trees. Elune leaned lightly on Fawn’s arm, her steps steady but unhurried.
“You live alone?” Elune asked.
“Aye,” Fawn said. “Though I’m never truly alone. The creatures of the forest find me when they’re in need. I mend what I can, feed those who cannot find enough for themselves. They give back in their way, keeping me company, warning me when danger comes.”
Elune’s eyes warmed as she listened. “So, it isn’t only the forest animals you care for.”
Fawn glanced at her, puzzled.
Elune smiled, soft and knowing. “You’ve a generous heart, child. That is rarer than you realize.”
Heat touched Fawn’s cheeks, though she quickly looked away, brushing a curl back from her face. “I do only what anyone should.”
By the time they reached the village, a few villagers paused in their tasks to stare, whispers slipping between them at the sight of Fawn leading a stranger. Fawn ignored them, her chin lifting as she spotted Sara outside her cottage.
“Sara!” she called.
Sara turned, her expression brightening until her gaze settled on Elune. Curiosity sparked in her eyes as Fawn drew her forward.
“This is Elune,” Fawn said. “She’s traveled far and has no home. She needs a permanent place, a home. There must be room here among the clan.”
Sara’s brow creased gently. “That’s not for any in the clan to decide, Fawn. You’ll need Lord Rhodes’s permission for her to remain. No one makes their home here without his word.”
Elune’s face shadowed with unease. “I wouldn’t cause trouble. If it’s too much to ask—”
“You’ll cause no trouble,” Fawn said quickly, her voice firm. Under her breath she added, “Enough trouble is already brewing.”
Sara glanced between them, worry pinching her pretty features, but when Fawn turned toward the keep with determined steps, her arm still hooked with Elune, leaving the elderly woman no choice but to follow along, curiosity had Sara falling into step with the pair.
Together, the three women approached the looming doors of the keep, the fire of Fawn’s resolve as bright as the flame in her hair.
The keep doors groaned as they opened, the warmth of the Great Hall spilling over them. Warriors sat at the long tables, their voices dulling to murmurs when they saw who entered. Fawn’s curls gleamed like flame in the torchlight as she strode forward with Sara and Elune beside her, Sprig’s head poking curiously from the pouch of her cloak.
Boyce’s eyes widened when he spotted them. He rose swiftly and went to his wife, his expression tight. “Sara, what are you doing here?”
“She came with me,” Fawn answered before Sara could speak. “There is something Rhodes must hear.”
Rhodes sat in his chair, broad shoulders filling the space, his dark gaze fixed on her with the same unwavering intensity that had haunted her since the woods. He glanced at Elune, studying her as though weighing her appearance in an instant, before returning to Fawn.
“You’ve brought me a guest,” he said, his voice flat as if it mattered not to him.
Fawn lifted her chin, schooling her tone to calm courtesy. “This is Elune. She has traveled far, she is weary, and she has no home. I ask that she be allowed to make one here, among your people.”
Rhodes leaned back slightly, his expression as impassive as stone. “What could she bring to my clan? Every person here must serve in some way.”
Elune straightened, drawing her cloak back from her hands. They were gnarled with age, her fingers twisted from endless years of work.
“Once, I was a skilled weaver,” she said, a nervous tremor in her otherwise smooth voice. “I clothed my kin, made fine work for trade. These hands cannot weave as they once did… but I can still teach. And I can still work some.”
Fawn looked at Rhodes, expecting at least a small bit of acknowledgment. Instead, his face remained hard, indifferent. Her jaw tightened.
“She needs a home, Rhodes,” Fawn pressed, her voice sharpening. “That should be reason enough.”