Chapter 1

Aurora

"YOU SURE THIS THE PLACE, miss?" The driver arches a bushy brow at me as he pulls gently on the horses' reins, slowing the wagon to a stop.

"I'm sure. Come on, Harrison!" I lift my warm woolen skirt in one hand and hold tight to the side of the wagon with the other as I climb down. The moment my boots touch the soft earth, a tingle runs up my legs and through my body. It's so strong my hair stands on end.

This is definitely the place.

"This road ain't been used in years, miss." The driver stares at the overgrown path, a worried crease in his brow.

We've stopped at a fork in the road, and hiding in the gnarled undergrowth, barely visible from here, is a little wooden sign with two faded words etched into it: Brookside Road . I add a note to my mental to-do list: repaint sign .

"I don't wanna leave you stranded here." The man scratches his beard, uncertainty creasing his weathered face .

"I know the way into town. Do you live in Faunwood?" I ask as I reach into the coin purse tied about my waist.

"Aye, miss."

"Then I'll be seeing you there. Thank you again." I stand on my tiptoes and reach into the wagon to plop two bronze eldertokens into his palm.

"You be needin' any help?"

"No, I'll manage."

There are only two trunks in the back of the wagon, each with a sturdy set of wheels. I lug them out one at a time, and they land in the dirt with a thump . Once I've unloaded them, I lift a hand to the driver in farewell. He still looks hesitant, so I grab one of the trunks and start dragging it down the overgrown path to show him I am capable of doing this on my own.

Only when I've vanished into the forest do I finally hear the creaky wagon wheels start turning.

With a sigh, I drop the trunk and plop down onto it. I was cold in the wagon, but I'm warm now, and I let the knit shawl slip from my shoulders as I breathe in the fresh mountain air.

"You should have let him help you."

I startle, nearly falling off the trunk. "You scared me!"

"I've been here the whole time." Harrison hops silently onto the trunk next to me, then flicks his tail and wraps it around his paws. "Perhaps you weren't paying attention."

I blow a strand of green hair out of my eyes. "You sound like my mother."

Harrison doesn't reply. He doesn't need to. We both know exactly how... complicated my relationship with my mother is .

"And besides, did you see that poor man's back? I couldn't ask him to carry a trunk for me. I'm young. I can do this." I stand and stretch my arms overhead. Harrison just gives me that look like I'm not the bushiest broom in the broom closet. "Come on. Up." I clap my hands at him, and he flicks his fluffy white tail again before hopping into the dirt at my feet.

With my shawl draped in the crook of my arms, I grab hold of the trunk handle and give it a good yank. It starts rolling, slowly, and I smile at Harrison proudly.

Halfway up the dirt path, however, I'm singing a different tune.

"It'd sure be nice if you could help me ," I mutter at him, pausing to wipe a bead of sweat from my forehead.

"If you reach a high-enough level of consciousness in this life," Harrison says, "in your next life you'll come back as a cat."

I furrow my brow. "And then I won't have to lug trunks around? Is that what you're saying?"

He blinks his big green eyes at me. "Precisely."

Instead of responding with a witty remark, I save my breath and use it to drag the trunk the rest of the way up the path. When Harrison and I finally reach the end, we pause.

"This can't be the place." There's a hint of concern in Harrison's voice now. "This cannot be Brookside, surely."

"This is it. Look there." I point into the thicket of aspen and pine trees, where an old swing still hangs from one of the thick boughs overhead. "I used to swing under that tree whenever I'd visit Auntie as a child. And if I'm not mistaken, the garden should be right about..." Leaving the trunk behind, I plunge into the thick dead growth, wading through it toward the south side of the cottage. "Here," I whisper, as if to myself.

Sure enough, I discover the garden buried under years' worth of pine needles, fallen leaves, and all manner of undergrowth. Seeing it brings back memories of my childhood, of long summer days spent helping my auntie plant and water seeds, pull weeds, and harvest brightly colored fruits and vegetables. I was always awed by the ability of a teeny-tiny seed to grow into something so beautiful as a red beet or a big onion bulb. Even today, I have my auntie to thank for instilling her love of gardening in me. It's sad to see what was once her paradise crumbling into the earth, forgotten and discarded.

But that's why I'm here—to start anew, and to bring back that which has been lost. I know Auntie would've wanted this.

I head back to the front of the cottage, where Harrison is waiting for me on the front steps.

"You should be careful." He glances up at the weathered veranda overhead. "I'm not sure this structure is sound."

"Oh, it's fine," I say, still feeling eternally optimistic as I fish the big brass key out of my skirt pocket. "It'll need some love and care, but it's got good bones."

The heavy lock opens with a thunk , and then I push the pale pink door open.

And my mouth opens along with it.

At my feet, Harrison says, "I believe there's a hole in the roof."