“Never! I shall simply say a bird … maybe a raven … dropped a nut in an effort to crack it. A rather big nut that went to feed the poor at harvesttime.” The Warden smiled at her rather inventive lie. “Now, if you are still among the land of the living, fetch a broom and help me clear up!”

This was nuts! A minute ago, Ark was about to die, and now he was hobbling toward the broom closet to help sweep a heap of straw away. He winced as the little devil gave him a few more stabs in his backside for good measure.

Ark returned and began brushing up the straw, feeling a downdraft of cold air from the hole in the roof.

Warden Goodwoody leaned on her staff, stubborn as a statue, urging Ark to talk.

He had to give her something. “I was already supposed to be dead. You’ll hear the news. It’s somewhat exaggerated.”

“I’m glad to hear it!” The Warden’s face crinkled up with delight. “Your company would be most missed. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I love the hymns and prayers, but the thought of you scampering up to the sky always cheers me up. I sometimes think you are closer to the spirit of the woods than my most esteemed colleagues. This gift of yours confirms it.”

A distant clock chimed and Ark suddenly realized he was late. “I have to go. Sorry.” He quickly pushed the straw into a corner. “My family … I can’t go home for a while.” He wrung his hands, hating himself for asking. “Please, would you visit them if you have any spare food?”

“That’s what harvest is for.” Warden Goodwoody spread her arms to indicate shelves burgeoning with apples, pumpkins, and squash, all scaffield-grown. “Now go.” But before he could, the Warden grabbed his face in her large hands and swooped to kiss the top of his head.

As Ark was leaving, a rare beam of sunlight found its way through the roof and onto Warden Goodwoody’s upturned face. The boy was in her prayers. What more could an old blind woman do?

Ark nearly ran straight into a queue of Holly Woodsmen, faces lost deep inside their hoods, bodies cloaked in raven-black cloth as they shuffled in a long, swaying line, murmuring their prayers of protection. The sound they made was like the buzz of bees, haunting and hypnotic.

Ark quickly pulled his hat down over his face, bowing quickly as the priests swept past him and through the doorway. No one looked up. No one was interested. He hoped the Warden would get away with her story.