‘This should keep me perfectly safe. Even if I do fall down into a place like that again. Birds saved me. And birds will protect me. So really there’s no need for you to make anything. But I thought you might like to visit Wolf Glen. I know I can’t go. But he never said you couldn’t.’

Chapter Twenty-eight: Grim

28

~Grim~

At first I think she’s only a dream. Been wanting to see her so bad, missing her so much, I’ve imagined this over and over. In the dream I look up and there she is, coming along the path from the big house. Red scarf on her head, red hair under it, basket over her arm. Not smiling or frowning, just looking at me like she knows me better than I do myself.

So when it happens I can’t believe it’s real. We’re having a break, me and Bardán sitting on the big stones near the heartwood house, the other fellows over by the barn. Someone’s made a brew, which is welcome. Platter of bread with fresh butter, brought over by Mistress Della, even more welcome. The lady didn’t stay to chat this time.

The ghost that’s Blackthorn casts her eye over the heartwood house, then over Bardán and me. ‘Got a spare cup, big man?’ she asks. Then smiles. Next thing, Ripple comes running from where she’s been with the crew, barking her head off. Blackthorn says ‘Down!’ Ripple sits and Blackthorn gives her a pat.

I’m on my feet, heart hammering. She’s here. She’s real. Know what I want to do, which is run forward and wrap my arms around her and never let go. But there’s Bardán. Also, she might curse and slap me in the face. ‘You’re here,’ I say like a stupid fool.

Bardán gets up too. Blackthorn’s giving him a long look, the kind that means she’s thinking hard. ‘You must be Bardán,’ she says. ‘I’m Grim’s friend, Blackthorn the healer. I hope the salve helped your hands.’ She looks back at me. ‘It’s good to see you,’ she says. ‘Been a while. I can’t stay long.’

There’s all sorts of things to ask. Why is she here? Why hasn’t Tóla come rushing out and ordered her to go home? What about Cara?

‘Brew?’ I ask.

She smiles wider. ‘Thought you’d never ask.’

I scrape together some of my wits. ‘Bardán, ask one of the men to bring another cup, will you? Say I’ve got a visitor.’ The Longwater fellows mind their manners around the wild man. They know they’ll answer to me otherwise. ‘Tell them there’s no need to rush back to work.’

Bardán goes and we’re on our own, though probably not for long. I look at Blackthorn. She looks at me.