Free Ravenwood by Nathan Lowell Page B

black and brown across its wings and rings of ruddy orange around brilliant onyx eyes. As the night wore on, so did the procession of seasons in her dream until the snow gave way to stripes of warming sun and gentle rains that washed the snowy blanket away to expose tender grass even as the bare, black branches grew fuzzy tips. The owl turned to face her in her dream and hooted a drawn out who-who-whooo. The last long whooo blended into a raucous cock-a-doodle-doo in her ears. It pulled her out of the dream and back to reality.
    She lay there in her bedroll, momentarily disoriented by a roof over her head even as she lay warmly swathed in the bedroll she associated with an open sky. As the disorientation faded and memory returned, the image of black limbs against gray skies faded in her mind and the sound of an owl’s low call echoed in her ears. She sighed, blinked herself fully awake, and forced her body out of the warm cocoon of blankets. The fire demanded her attention as the chill, morning air scrubbed at her bed-warmed body. She found a few spikes of cattail to put on the coals and blew life back into the nearly dead fire, adding a few small sticks to fuel the blaze. She weighed the luxury of using the ceramic pot beneath the bed against the more practical notion of slipping on her boots and heading for the privy. Boots won and she scampered across the compound in the magical light of morning to deal with the much more mundane issue of bladder.
    On her way back to the hut, the rooster’s call from somewhere near the barn cut the still morning air once more. As the raucous sound echoed down the hollow, Tanyth heard the low call of an owl seeming to answer from the copse of spruces behind the village. The sound was almost identical to the who-who-whooo from her dream. It sent a shiver down her spine as the eeriness of the haunting sound echoed in her mind even as it faded in the pale dawn’s growing light. “Alright, All-Mother. I got the message.” She muttered it under her breath even as she grinned at herself for doing it.
    She returned to the cottage and stoked up the fire to boil water for tea and to warm her oatmeal a bit faster. She stood, basking in the heat and listening to the sounds of the village coming awake around her. For the most part it was quiet, but the occasional clank of pot hook reached through the stout walls. She could practically feel the quickening of the world around her as the light of morning grew in intensity through the narrow outlines of her doors.
    As she was finishing her breakfast, she heard the steady plodding of the ox and the crunch of solid wheels on the gravel of the track. She tossed back the last of her tea and scooped the last few grains of oat from the dish before rising and slipping out into the morning once more. The trees still hid the rising sun, but the morning had reached a fullness where the warming rays would arrive momentarily. William led the ox down the path toward the Pike and waved to her as she crossed to intercept him at the path.
    “I accept.” Tanyth said the two words quickly without any preamble of greeting.
    William smiled. “I’m glad, mum. Amber will be pleased as well.” He didn’t stop walking and Tanyth fell into step beside him.
    “Do you really think somethin’ has happened to Frank and the team?” She asked. “Just between us?”
    He blew out a sigh. “I can’t help but worry that it has. He’s never been this late, but so many simple things could have delayed him by ten days. Innocent things. Problems with a wheel. A horse with colic. Even a delay with the factor purchasin’ the clay.” He shook his head. “I hate to borrow trouble, mum, but we’re gettin’ to the point where it’s more likely that somethin’ unfortunate has happened.” He returned her sideways glance with a shrug. “Short of sendin’ somebody to find him, all we can do is wait it out.”
    “Thank you, William. I appreciate your honesty.” She raised a