And in, Fawn reflected. She pushed the door to the kitchen closed with her foot and picked her way around the loom and the piles of Dag’s gear. In the bedroom, Nattie seated herself on the side of her narrow bed and motioned to the one across from it. Fawn set the lamp and the iron ring on the table between and lit the other candles, and went back and closed the bedroom door. Dag glanced at her and sat down facing Nattie, the bed ropes creaking under his weight, and Fawn eased down at his left. “Here we are, Aunt Nattie,” she announced, to which Dag added, “Ma’am.”

Nattie stretched her back and grimaced, then leaned forward on her cane, her pearly eyes seeming to stare at them in a disturbingly penetrating fashion. “Well, patroller. I’m going to tell you a story. And then I’m going to ask you a question. And then we’ll see where we’re goin’ on to.”

“I’m at your disposal,” Dag said, with that studied courtesy Fawn had learned concealed caution.

“That’s to be seen.” She sniffed. “You know, you’re not the first Lakewalker I’ve met.”

“I sensed that.”

“I lead a dull life, mostly. Lived in this house since Tril married Sorrel nigh on thirty years ago. I hardly get off this farm ’cept down to West Blue for the market day or a little sewing bee now and then.”

Actually, Nattie did both regularly, being a chief supplier of fine cloth and having a deep ear for village gossip, but Fawn forbore to intrude on the stream of…whatever this was going to be. Reminiscence?

Apparently so, for Nattie went on, “Now, the summer before Fawn was born was a tough time. Her mama was sick, and the boys were rambunctious, and her papa was overworked as usual. I wasn’t sleeping so good myself, so I did my gathering in the north woods at night after they’d all gone to bed. The boys being less help than more in the woods at that stage of their lives.”

Ages three to ten, roughly; Fawn could picture it, and shuddered.

“Roots and herbs and plants for remedies and dyes, you know. Night’s not only more peaceful, the scents are sharper. I especially wanted some wild ginger for Tril, thought I might make a tea to settle her poor stomach. Anyhow, I was sorry for the peaceful that night, because I fell and twisted my ankle something fierce. I tried callin’ for a bit, but I was too far from the house to be heard.”

Truly, the woods on the steep valley slope to the north of their place extended for three miles before the next farm. Fawn made an encouraging noise in lieu of a nod.