Her honest concern for Fawn’s safety stood clear in her face. Fawn was torn between unjust anger and a desire to burst into tears, equally uncomfortable lumps in her stomach and throat. I’m not twelve, woman. She thought of saying so, and more. She had to start practicing it sooner or later: I’m twenty. I’m a widow. The phrases did not rise readily to her lips as yet.

Still…the farmwife’s offer beguiled her mind. Stay a day, do a chore or two or six and show how useful she could be, stay another day, and another…farms always needed more hands, and Fawn knew how to keep hers busy. Her first planned act when she reached Glassforge was to look for work. Plenty of work right here—familiar tasks, not scary and strange.

But Glassforge had been the goal of her imagination for weeks now. It seemed like quitting to stop short. And wouldn’t a town offer better privacy? Not necessarily, she realized with a sigh. Wherever she went, folks would get to know her sooner or later. Maybe it was all the same, no new horizons anywhere, really.

She mustered her flagging determination. “Thanks, but I’m expected. Folk’ll worry if I’m late.”

The woman gave a little headshake, a combination of conceding the argument and farewell. “Take care, then.” She turned back to her house and her own onslaught of tasks, duties that probably kept her running from before dawn to after dark.

A life I would have taken up, except for Sunny Sawman, Fawn thought gloomily, climbing back up to the straight road once more. I’d have taken it up for the sake of Sunny Sawman, and never thought of another.

Well, I’ve thought of another now, and I’m not going to go and unthink it. Let’s go see Glassforge.

One more time, she called up her wearied fury with Sunny, the low, stupid, nasty…stupid fool, and let it stiffen her spine. Nice to know he had a use after all, of a sort. She faced south and began marching.

2

Last year’s leaves were damp and black with rot underfoot, and as Dag climbed the steep slope in the dark, his boot slid. Instantly, a strong and anxious hand grasped his right arm.

“Do that again,” said Dag in a level whisper, “and I’ll beat you senseless. Quit trying to protect me, Saun.”

“Sorry,” Saun whispered back, releasing the death clutch. After a momentary pause, he added, “Mari says she won’t pair you with the girls anymore because you’re overprotective.”

Dag swallowed a curse. “Well, that does not apply to you. Senseless. And bloody.”

He could feel Saun’s grin flash in the shadows of the woods. They heaved themselves upward a few more yards, finding handgrips among the rocks and roots and saplings.

“Stop,” Dag breathed.

A nearly soundless query from his right.