Free Huntsman by Viola Grace Page A

ma’am.”
    She focussed on the task and the pile of wood grew, though her hands felt it keenly.
    When she had amassed a suitable stack, he called a halt.
    “Enough. The weather is coming in. Let’s get this stacked up and into somewhere warm.”
    She nodded and began to put the wood on the cart that appeared. Harka was nearly done when hands caught her wrists. “What is this?”
    She froze with her hands around a log. “What?”
    “You are bleeding.”
    She nodded. “I am. My hands are unused to this kind of work. Give me a needle and thread any day.”
    He looked into her eyes. “You aren’t my normal fantasy female.”
    She laughed. “That is one way of saying it.”
    “Who are you?”
    She blinked and burst out laughing at a man who fantasized about women who would wander up and cut lumber. “I am a monitor. I am here to keep you company as you are eased back into the waking world. The Horalthians have cultivated a cure for your people and we already have twenty of your people free and involved in our government.”
    He blinked. “You are an actual new person?” His grip on her wrists eased.
    She laughed. “Yes, I am an actual new person. My name is Harka Tweel. I am a volunteer and a monitor. In the waking world, I am a baker in a small tea shop.”
    A chill wind ruffled her skirts.
    He blinked. “You are coming with me?”
    She nodded. “You lead and I will follow.”
    He quickly loaded the cart, and it trundled off on its own.
    It was strange to see something like that happen, but when you were in someone else’s mind, you had to keep an eye on yourself and let the rest flow around you.
    He led her through the woods and she kept her hands curled loosely in front of her.
    A lodge suddenly loomed in the forest. The cart trundled up next to the door and settled.
    “Come in. I will treat those hands.”
    She blinked. “Very well.” She gingerly lifted the skirts as she stepped up onto the wide plank porch.
    Blood ran down her skirts from the tears in her skin.
    He opened the door and within was a giant library.
    “Wow. Are all these books in Edinar?”
    “They are. I was a librarian, historian, archivist…if it was in print, I was interested.”
    She turned around and around as she tried to take in the sheer enormity of all the books. Her host pulled her by her arm to stand in front of the fire, and in a blink, he had a medical kit in front of him. He urged her into a seat and bathed her hands.
    She blinked. “Why can’t you just imagine them whole?”
    “I tried to. Your mind knows your body should have been injured and it isn’t going to cooperate with me. You will have to heal yourself.”
    He wrapped her hands in snug and warm bandages, tying them off. She was now completely useless; her hands were in mittens.
    “What is your name?” she asked and she should have known, but they had been in such a hurry to lock her in that they had skipped the briefing.
    He blinked. “You don’t know?”
    “I wouldn’t have asked if I did. I have already introduced myself, so you giving over your name is only fair.”
    He sat back on his heels. “Derin Conic, Master Librarian of Edinar.”
    “I am pleased to meet you, Derin.” She extended one of her hands, saw the white wrapping and chuckled. “Sorry.”
    “Don’t be. What is your purpose here?”
    She got to her feet, stepped over him and examined the shelves. “I am here to make sure that you stay under while the plague in your system is being cured. It is a long process as you have to re-grow a lot of damaged tissue, but the procedure has been well received. The two hundred Edinar on our world are slowly coming back to life.”
    He crossed the room and a table appeared with a tea set. “I am happy to hear it. How many of our people survived?”
    “The plague? Just your transport and a few others. It was the Coalition attack on Edinar that managed to wipe out most of your kind. There are a few pockets and singles here and there.”
    He