Chapter 3

Aurora

WHEN HARRISON AND I WOKE up this morning, we found the fire had died in the night, and the cottage was so cold it felt like the tip of my nose was going to fall off. He stayed cuddled under the blankets while I braved the cold to revive the fire, and only when the kitchen had heated up to his optimal temperature did he rouse from his slumber. Now it's a few hours later, and with the sun comes more hope for the project ahead of me.

"What do you think we should get first?" I ask as we walk together down the winding lane into Faunwood, a wicker basket hanging from the crook of my elbow. Yesterday's warmth was just a tease, and the weather is back to being crisp and cold. This high up in the mountains, it'll be some time yet before we're officially out of the cold season, but I really don't mind it. There's something enlivening about the cold; it wakes my body and soul up even as the earth feels like it's still asleep. I breathe in the crisp air, letting it fill my lungs, and a small smile curls across my mouth .

I really do love it here.

"Food," Harrison says. He's trotting along beside me, silky tail held high. Now that he's eaten and slept, I think he's in better spirits. "Do you think they have wispfish?"

Harrison loves wispfish, tiny lake creatures that glow like wisps under the light of the moon.

"Maybe. We'll stop in the mercantile and see what they have."

Pausing suddenly, Harrison lifts his nose into the air and gives it a sniff. Then his eyes meet mine. "I smell snow."

That statement would typically fill me with joy, but considering I've got holes in my house, I'm not so excited about the prospect.

"We'd better get the roof patched, then." I try to keep my tone light in the hope of not upsetting Harrison. He wasn't so sure about moving here in the first place, and I don't want to make him any more uncomfortable than he already is. The least I can do is provide him with a warm, cozy house. "I'll ask around in town. There must be a carpenter who can come help us."

It takes half an hour to walk into town, and as soon as my boots touch the cobbled streets, I'm whisked back in time ten years, to when I was a girl of twelve, following my auntie into each of the shops, talking with all the people we met along the way.

Faunwood has changed since I was last here a decade ago, but in many ways, it's still exactly the same. Smoke curls from chimneys and into the gray-blue sky, the smell of baking bread fills the narrow streets, and everyone we pass offers a smile and a friendly greeting .

The mercantile is easy enough to find—I still remember it all these years later—and a bell above the door chimes as Harrison and I step into the shop. There are a few ladies browsing the shelves, and they offer friendly, albeit curious, smiles. I don't imagine Faunwood gets to see new faces very often, but given my resemblance to my aunt—forest-green hair, pale freckled skin, and green eyes—they probably know who I am, or at least suspect I may be related to the quirky forest witch who lived in their woods for so many years.

I join the other shoppers in meandering about the snug little mercantile, grabbing items and slipping them into my basket as I go. Harrison wanders off in a different direction, probably looking for wispfish or his favorite sweet snack, starberries. Meanwhile, I fill my cotton bags with fresh-ground flour, sugar, and salt. I brought my big jar of sourdough starter with me, so with these extra ingredients, I'll be able to start baking again. The thought fills me with excitement. There's something so warming about the scent of baking bread in a sunlit kitchen, a cup of tea steaming on a tabletop. I almost get shivers just imagining it.

By the time I finish shopping, Harrison is already waiting for me, sitting on the front counter as if he owns the place.

"Did you find anything?" I ask, setting my basket down beside him.

The annoyed flick of his tail is answer enough. I suppose I'll have to grow starberries in the garden for him this year.

There's a little silver bell beside him, and he steps on it with his paw. After some shuffling in the back room, a woman emerges, thick curly brown hair piled up on top of her head and poked through with a hair stick .

"So sorry," she says, straightening her apron as she steps up behind the counter. "Oh, hello, you." She reaches over to pet Harrison, but he ducks out from under her hand and jumps off the counter to stand beside me.

If there's one thing Harrison hates more than anything else, it's people trying to touch him without permission. I'd not be too enchanted with people trying to touch me all day either.

"He's not a big fan of strangers," I say.

"Oh, I don't blame him." The woman laughs, and it's a delightful sound. "I've not seen you around before." She tucks a curl behind her ear as she looks through my basket and jots down my items in her ledger book.

"I'm new here. Well, kind of. I spent time here as a child, but it's been years." I reach down to pull a few eldertokens from the pouch tied about my waist. "Lilith Silvermoon was my auntie. I'm fixing up her old cottage now."

"Oh, you must be Aurora!" The woman looks at me through new eyes, a spark of recognition glowing in them. "Lilith used to talk about you all the time. I'm Lydia Stonewood." She reaches out to shake my hand. "I'd wondered what was going to become of Brookside. It's been sad watching it fall into disrepair. Lilith loved it so much, you know? Oh, that'll be seven eldertokens."

"Actually, I was hoping to find someone who might be able to help me with some repairs." I drop the coins into Lydia's hand, then take my wicker basket back from her with a smile. "Is there a carpenter in town?"

She perks up. "There is! Follow Hillock Lane south, then turn west onto the little road with the big dead tree. Lightning hit it once. Lilith said it was an omen. Can't remember what it foretold though."

"Sudden change? An emotional outburst?"

Lydia shrugs. "Wish I could remember. Anyway, the carpenter's house is at the end of the road. It's the only one there, impossible to miss."

Someone calls her name from the other side of the shop, and she wipes her hands on her apron before heading in their direction. I turn for the door, Harrison walking along dejectedly at my feet.

"Oh!" Lydia says as I reach for the door. "Tell Alden I say hello."

The little bell chimes as I open the door, and then Harrison and I step back outside into the cold. A crisp breeze tosses my hair around my face, enveloping me in a world of green, and I blow it out of my eyes with a big breath.

"That shop was disappointing," Harrison says.

"I'm sorry." I frown down at him. "I promise I'll grow you some starberries this summer."

"And the wispfish?" he says, tone grumpy.

As if he spoke it into existence, I spot a little fisherman's stand in the village square.

"Come on."

We head over, and the fisherman removes his cap and flashes me a crooked smile. "Morning, miss. Can I interest ye in some fish?"

Harrison hops onto a barrel beside the stand, green eyes wide.

"Do you have any wispfish?" I ask.

"Sure do. Fresh out of Moonstone Lake this morning. "

I catch Harrison's eye and arch a brow. "We'll take the whole catch."

"See," I say, swinging my much-heavier basket as Harrison and I head down Hillock Lane in search of the carpenter's house. "Faunwood isn't so bad."

Harrison doesn't answer, but he's not moping anymore, so that's something.

My boots click across the cobbles as we walk south. It doesn't take long to spot the dead tree Lydia told me about; it's right there in the crook of the road, still blackened from the bolt of lightning. There's a certain elegance to it still, with its bark burned away and its skeletal branches reaching toward the sky. Even in death, there is beauty.

We turn south, and the cobbles shift to dirt under my feet. Harrison catches scent of something, and he dashes off into the crinkly dried underbrush, leaving me to walk down the thin wooded lane by myself.

Pine trees and ghostly white aspens rise up on either side of the road, whispering softly as the breeze weaves through them. I wore my warm skirts and thick stockings today, but the chill still slips though the fabric and into my bones, making me shiver.

"Smells like snow," I whisper to myself, tipping my head back to look up at the gray sky.

I really hope I can get those holes patched before it snows again. We're going to have some cold nights if I don't...

I find a tiny dwelling at the end of the road. It has a big pile of wood stacked up outside, and there's a shed around the side, its door standing open so I can see that it's filled with saws and hammers and a myriad of tools. There doesn't seem to be anyone around, so I head up the creaking front steps and knock on the weathered door.

Nothing happens. No sounds can be heard from inside, and no one calls out through the door. I knock one more time, then turn to leave, feeling a bit dejected.

Now how am I going to—

Just as my feet hit the dirt, the door opens behind me.

And when I turn, I have to physically clamp my teeth to keep my jaw from falling open. Because he is easily the biggest human man I've ever seen.

Orcs are bigger, and so are some shifters, but this man towers at least a head above any normal human male.

When I finally pull my head out of the clouds and meet his eyes, I find them dark and narrowed and... glaring? Why is he glaring?

"Um, h-hello. I'm Aurora Silvermoon. Are you, uh..." For a brief moment, I can't remember his name. I know Lydia mentioned it.

Think, think!

Then it clicks. "Are you Alden?"

"Yeah."

His voice is deep, rough, and not at all welcoming. It makes me bristle, but I try not to let him see how much he's ruffled me.

"Lydia Stonewood said you might be able to help me."

Alden leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms, showing off his thigh-size biceps as they strain against the fabric of his tunic. "With? "

He doesn't sound pleased at the idea of having to help me.

What's his problem?

I clear my throat and try to smile. "I just moved into Brookside, the old cottage up Brookside Road, and—"

He rolls his eyes, just slightly, but it's enough to make me curl my fingers into fists.

"What?" I ask. The word comes out short, snappish.

Shifting in the doorway, he looks down at me with bored eyes, still not saying anything.

I need help , I remind myself. He's the carpenter. I can be friendly. I can do this.

Once more, I offer him a smile. "I need a carpenter, and Lydia sent me here. Am I in the right place? Could you help me fix my house?"

Another breeze whips around me, tossing my long skirts and making them snap around my ankles. My hair catches in the wind, and the long forest-green strands dance in the air like they're caught in a river current.

Alden looks at me a bit more closely, like he finally sees me standing at the foot of his front porch.

About time.

"What's wrong with it?" he asks, moving to scratch the dark scruff covering the lower half of his face.

Four whole words. Not sure if I should consider that a success or not.

"Holes in the roof, porch falling apart..." My laughter is a tiny thing in the crisp breeze. "Probably a hundred other things I haven't noticed yet." The air is getting colder even as I stand here, and I shiver a little. "So? Can you help me? "

With a sigh, Alden pushes off the doorway, and my eyes naturally gravitate toward his toned brown biceps again. "I'll come by tomorrow."

And just like that, he closes the door in my face.

This time my mouth does fall open. I almost hop onto the porch just to kick his door with my boot—though I'm sure that wouldn't improve things much.

"How rude," I mumble.

Clenching my hands around my wicker basket, I turn and stride away from his house and back down the lane, grumbling all the while.