She wondered if the hanged girl had been pregnant too. Then she wondered anew how the tall man had known, seemingly just by looking at her with those eyes, their shimmering gold by sudden turns cold as metal or warm as summer. Sorcerers, huh. Dag didn’t look like a sorcerer. (And what did sorcerers look like anyhow?) He looked like a very tired hunter who had been too long away from home. Hunting things that hunted him back.

A girl baby. Maybe he was just guessing. Fifty percent odds weren’t half-bad, for appearing right, later. Still, it was an encouraging thought. Girls she knew. A little boy, however innocent, might have reminded her too much of Sunny. She hadn’t meant to be a mother so soon in her life at all, but if she was going to be stuck with it, she would very well try to be a good one. She rubbed absently at her belly. I will not betray you. A bold promise. How was she to keep a child safe when she couldn’t even save herself? Also, from now on, I will be more careful. Anyone could make a mistake. The trick was not to make the same one twice.

She eventually ran out of ripped fabric, patience to brood, and the will to stay awake. Her bruised face was throbbing. She hauled the repaired ticks back inside and piled them four deep in a corner of the kitchen, because the next room was still a disheartening mess and she hadn’t the energy left to tackle it. She fell gratefully onto the pile. She had barely time to register the musty scent of them, and reflect that they were overdue for an airing anyhow, when her leaden eyes closed.

Fawn woke to the sound of steps on the wooden porch. Dag back already? It was still light. How long had she slept? Blearily, she pushed up, eager to show him the overlooked treasures in the cellar and to hear what he’d found. Only then did it register that there were too many heavy steps out there.

She should have been overlooked in the cellar—I could have thrown a couple of those mattresses down there—She had just time to think What good is it to not to make the same mistakes twice when your new ones’ll kill you all the same? before the three mud-men burst open the door.

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