She nodded. And didn’t stop. She finished her cord, of about the length of the one they’d done for him, just about the time her fingers ceased bleeding. “Nattie, I’m ready for you.”

Nattie leaned in and snipped below the end knot. Dag felt it as Fawn’s ground snapped back the way his had.

“Perfect,” he assured her. “Absent gods, it’s fine.”

“Was it?” She twisted around to look up at him, her face tight. “I couldn’t feel anything. I couldn’t feel anything any of the times. Really?”

“It was…you were…’’ He groped for the right words. “That was smart, Spark. That was beyond smart. That was brilliant.”

The tightness turned to a blaze of glory, shining in her eyes. “Really?”

“I would not have made that mental leap.”

“Well, of course you wouldn’t have.” She sniffed. “You’d have gone all protective or tried to argue with me.”

He gave her a hug, and a shake, and felt a strange new sympathy for her parents and their mixed reaction to her homecoming that first night. “You’re probably right.”

“I am certainly right.” She gave a more Spark-like giggle.

He sat back, releasing her, and slipped his aching splinted arm back into its sling. “For pity’s sake, go wash your fingers at once. With strong soap and plenty of it. You don’t know where that hook has been.”

“Everywhere, hasn’t it?” She shot a merry grin over her shoulder, stroked her cord once more, and danced out to the kitchen.

Nattie leaned over and picked up the new cord from the bench, running it thoughtfully through her fingers.

“I didn’t know she was going to do that,” Dag apologized weakly.

“You never do, with her,” Nattie said. “She’ll be keeping you alert, I expect, patroller. Maybe more than you bargained for. Funny thing is, you think you know what you’re doing.”

“I used to.” He sighed. “Though that may have been because I was only doing the same things over and over.”

Spark returned from the kitchen, towing her mother to see their finished work. Dag trusted Fawn wouldn’t mention the last wrinkle about the blood. Tril and Nattie handed the cords back and forth; Tril gave one a tug, nodding thoughtfully at its strength. She squared her shoulders and dug in her apron pocket.

“Nattie, do you remember that necklace Mama had with the six real gold beads, one for every child, that broke that time the cart went over in the snow, and she never found all the bits and never had it fixed?”

“Oh, yes,” said her sister.

“The piece came to me, and I never did anything with it either. It’s been in the back of a drawer for years and years. I thought you might could use the beads to finish off the end knots of these cords of Fawn’s.”