Free Ravenwood by Nathan Lowell Page A

little family. She drew what she needed and gave back much more than she ever took. We can’t put a price on that in terms of so many stones of barley, so many bushels of potatoes.”
    “But I’m not Mother Alderton, Amber. I’m just a little, old woman who’s wandered too far from home.”
    Amber smiled. “You’re a tough old boot with a lot of wear left on the sole, and I mean no disrespect in sayin’ that, mum. If you’ll stay and help us this winter, teach us what we need to know to keep going, and just do what you think you can, you can draw what you need from the stores and we’ll gladly share whatever we have with you.”
    William looked shocked at his wife’s plain speaking, but Tanyth’s mouth twitched in an involuntary grin. “Very well, then. I think I know what I’m up against.” Her face softened into a smile as she noted that both the children had fallen asleep in a huddled pile. “I think they have the right idea. Thank you for dinner, but now I need to go to Mother Alderton’s cottage and sleep on it.”
    William and Amber both rose, but William was the first to speak. “Of course, mum.”
    “Thank you, sir, for a most interestin’ and enlightenin’ evenin’.”
    He grinned and knuckled his forehead. “Thank you, mum, for your kindness and consideration.”
    She turned to Amber and surprised the younger woman by giving her a close embrace. “Bless you, child.”
    Outside, night had fallen almost completely. Only a faint, ruddy glow showed over the tops of the trees to the west and the nearly full moon peeked through the treetops to the east. She crossed her arms against the chilly night air, heavier coat or not. She crossed the village with a few, rapid steps, the night sounds from the surrounding forest keeping her company. A woman’s laugh from one of the huts behind her punctuated the sigh of wind in the tree tops.
    She stopped at her door and turned to survey the tiny hamlet. “You could do worse, old woman.” She murmured it to the night, but the words echoed inside her. “You could do worse.” The cold struck though her then, and an owl called from the spruces. She slipped the latch and entered the hut, closing the door carefully behind her.

 
    Chapter 6
Decisions
    The short night followed by a long and stressful day put Tanyth in a mood to find her bedroll. A belly full of rich, warm food and the snug security of the cozy hut added to her body’s demand for rest. She checked the fire and banked the few remaining coals against the back of the hearth, adding a smallish log to maintain the fire overnight. In her last moments of awareness, she rummaged in her pack for her meager supply of oatmeal and her tiny cooking pot, added some water from the bucket and settled it on the hearth where it could cook slowly while she slept. Her bedroll called her then and she sank into slumber even as her body sank into the luxurious sweet grass tick.
    Her dreams that night were shapeless but haunted by the image of a great tree, its leaves flowing smoothly from lush green to a brilliant scarlet that faded to the glossy wet color of blood. They dripped from the branches to pool on the ground and soak into the soil. Those remaining on the tree turned a scabrous brown and cascaded faster and faster, piling up in a drift to protect the roots and no longer melting into the soil. The falling leaves revealed stark, forking branches, first in small glimpses and then in larger areas. Finally the tree stood exposed and, with it, a small bird perched near the bole, protected from the elements by the body of the tree itself. As the last of the leaves dropped from the tips of the branches, snow began to fall. It touched the branches, highlighting them in black and white against the gray winter sky even while it covered the ground, laying a blanket of glistening white over the leafy brown cloak at the base of the tree. The bird fluffed out its feathers and stood revealed as a small owl with bands of