That night, Daks and Ora dozed off only to awake to the walls shaking with the tolls of the nearby bell.

  Ora let out a cry. “Daidi, are the wolves here? Are they here?”

  Daks rolled over and held her close. “No, no, Rae-Rae, it’s safe. We’re inside. The wolves can’t get to us. Just go to sleep. I’ll keep you safe. Just go back to sleep.”

  “Atcha, atcha…” Ora swiftly fell back to sleep.

  They spent the rest of the sennight seeing the sights and spending time with Renny, Cathmor, Cathmor’s family, and some others around town.

  Prim was able to distract herself by helping Alf and Sandy around the farm and cooking all the meals. She fed the animals, milked cows, gathered eggs, helped sow the spring crops, and she even fished with the boys at the nearby pond a couple times.

  Thankfully, the boys were kind enough to do the less savory farm tasks such as cleaning out the cype and the cow and horse pens in the barn. They’d also go gather Flu and Clover in the evenings, and they trimmed Maeve’s mate, Luno’s hooves.

  Then after dinner, Prim would socialize with the boys, often playing cards, before it was time to retire to the barn. There she would lay awake as long as she could, listening to the fire crackling in the stove, Sandy’s light snoring, and the periodic low moo from one of the cows or a sigh from Luno.

  Eventually, her eyes would slowly close. And she’d see Pepin’s eyes or Aiglentine’s eyes gazing into her.

  Seven mornings after Daks and Ora had left for the city, Prim awoke, instantly excited. They were coming back today! The boys had been enjoyable company, but she really missed Daks and Ora. Alf and Sandy were eager to go home themselves. Each chore that day was done with an extra spark of enthusiasm.

  As the sun began its descent into the horizon, Prim looked outside. She could see movement on a hill in the distance. Was that their cart? Her hand shielded her eyes as she ran outside. It continued closer until she was certain it was the cart. Finally, she could make out Maeve and then Daks and Ora’s figures. The cart was bursting with boxes and crates and burlap sacks.

  Prim opened the gate out front and then allowed herself to burst into a run. “Daks! Ora!” She ran all the way to the cart. “You’re back! You’re back!”

  Ora squealed. “PRIM!”

  Even Daks laughed. “Hello, Prim! We’re coming to the house! You didn’t have to run all the way out here!”

  “I know! But I couldn’t wait!”

  “It’s nice to be missed.” Daks pulled on the reins. “Whoa, Maeve. Rae-Rae, hop in the back.” He stopped the cart and then helped Prim up to sit next to him.

  “Thank you, jentil-homme!”

  “You are most welcome, daem.”

  Ora climbed onto some boxes.

  When they reached the house, Ora jumped off the cart while Daks helped Prim down. He had good strong hands. The boys came and they all helped unload the cart.

  Dinner was a lively affair. Daks and Ora told stories of people they had met on their trip, and the rest spoke about different shenanigans with the animals.

  After dinner, Sandy went upstairs with Ora to play with her dolls and toys. Alf went to go visit with the cows and horses.

  Prim and Daks stayed downstairs. Prim unpacked one of the crates from the city. “Oh, this fabric is so beautiful,” she said, holding up a large span of blueish green fabric.

  “I thought you and Ora would be able to make some pretty dresses with it. And you’d have some clothes of your very own.”

  “Thank you so much.”

  “You’re welcome.” Daks crossed the room. He took some chips out of his pocket and dropped them into the clay jar on the fireplace. Then he grabbed the violin case leaning against the wall. He removed the violin and began to play it quietly on the sofa.

  Prim was struck by the odd sight of this thick, muscular man with his dark beard playing such a delicate instrument. And he played well. The music flowed smoothly through her ears.

  Prim had never had the opportunity to learn to play an instrument. At Scur’s pub, there had been a pianoforte in the main area that sometimes Mildred would play. And then Aiglentine arrived, and she also started playing the pianoforte. She had even started to teach Pepin. Prim had pushed away thoughts of asking Aiglentine to teach her. Would be difficult to continue hating someone who was doing her a favor. And Aiglentine probably would have done it, too, because she was always helping others. She seemed to enjoy helping others even—

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  She pulled out a paper-wrapped package from one of the crates, tied together with some blue twine. “I wonder what this is?”

  The violin came to a halt. “I think I know what this is.” Daks took the package. He squeezed the paper. “Oh, yes. This is for you.” He handed it back.

  “Oh! More? I don’t remember the last time someone gave me a gift. I didn’t expect anything.” She untied the twine bow. Inside, she found a brown leather book and a wax paper pouch. She ran her fingers over the smooth leather. She opened the pouch to find some charcoal sticks. Then she opened the book to see blank pages. She looked up at Daks, puzzled.

  “It’s a sketchbook. I’ve never heard you talk about drawing. But when I was at Wakeman Mercantile, I saw this, and I needed to give it to you. Airienn said you used to draw.”

  That hurt in a deep place. She hadn’t seen Airienn or Liam in so long. Why did it still hurt? “You spoke to the Wakeman?”

  “Yes. Were they right—that you used to draw?”

  “Yes. At the orphanage. Long ago.”

  “I’m sorry—if you don’t want it, you don’t have to keep it.”

  “No, I—I love it. It’s beautiful, thank you. It’s been a long time since I spoke to the Wakeman. Thank you so much.” She wouldn’t let herself ruminate on them on top of everything else in her mind as of late.

  Daks hesitantly placed his hand on hers. “Prim, I haven’t always been a farmer.”

  “What?” Where was this coming from?

  “As soon as I turned sixteen, I became a Spotter.”

  He had the intimidating physique for it, but she would never have suspected it by his demeanor.

  “I turned out to be a particularly good Spotter. I was good with a baton, and I was a quick learner with a pistol. They put me on the night shift to test my mettle, but I enjoyed it. I realized that I could make quick decisions in a crisis, I wasn’t easily intimidated, and I’m not scared of the dark.

  “But I also learned that at the end of the day, the Spotters are just bruisers for the Maeir and the Consel and whoever the Maeir and the Consel give special privileges to. If they don’t want someone around for whatever reason, they won’t be around for long. If someone needs to be taught a lesson, it is—was—our job to teach that lesson. I was eager to prove myself, and…I quickly went down the crooked path. I did many things I try to not think about—beat many people, killed many people. Most I never found out if they had even broken the law. Eventually, it all began to wear on me. But I didn’t think I could do anything else. I met the Wakeman one day, and then I met Quin…My life completely changed. My uncle sold me part of his land, and we came out here to start a new life.”

  Prim considered what he had said for a moment. “I can’t imagine that side of you. Doesn’t seem like it’s in your nature.”

  He looked at her. “But it’s true.”

  “How many? How many did you kill? No—I’m sorry. You don’t need to tell me.”

  “I stopped counting after twenty—and that was in less than two years.”

  “Oh.”

  “What finally made me realize I had gone too far and really, truly no longer wanted any part in it was this one night. My pack’s Head Spotter sent us to this house. We were told to off any person we saw there. I remember there was this stuffed rabbit laying out in the yard as we walked up.”

  Daks scratched the back of his neck. “Something happened when I looked down to see the little boy and the little girl dead at my feet. The boy had tried to shield his sister. They were so young. All because someone told the Head Spotter of our district that they ‘had to go.’ It had been too easy to pull the trigger. I ran to the Wakeman house and told them I was done. I wanted a new life. They helped me get out of Spotting and found me a job in town. Not long after, I met Quin.”

  Prim considered everything he said for a moment.

  “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.”

  “I just…I want you to know that it’s possible to…to move on. You can let go. You can escape that…unrelenting noise inside.”

  “That’s hard to believe.”

  “I know.”

  Prim closed her eye for a moment. “Everything just happened so quickly. It’s hard to call what was happening in my mind ‘thinking.’ I was overcome and swept away by the rage I felt.

  “When Scur and Mildred first brought me from the orphanage to the pub, I was just grateful to be chosen and rescued from that place. I had my own bed and good food every day. I thought they loved me. So I did whatever they wanted me to without pushing back or complaining. But after a couple of years, it wasn’t like that anymore. I still did whatever they asked of me, but the gratitude was not on my mind as much, and the hope for a bright future had waned. I was never able to bond with Mildred, though she never said an unkind word to me. I felt like she resented me for some reason, like I wasn’t what she wanted. Scur and I got along and I thought we were getting close, but then he stopped wanting to do things with me. He stopped hugging me. When he asked how I was doing, I no longer thought he meant that he cared to know how I was doing.

  “Love and gratitude no longer drove me in the work I did. It was more now obligation and fear of losing what I had. Where else could I go? What else could I do?

  “So, I woke up each day, did my work, ate, and slept. That spice cake was the only thing I had to look forward to anymore. I now realize how miserable I was, trapped in the tedium of life at the pub

  “Once Aiglentine arrived, she worked so hard, and the patrons loved her so much. Her presence shined a light on how little I cared about the job anymore.

  “I was so jealous. I hated that everyone liked her better—all of them. Mildred acted like she finally had a daughter—what I thought I was supposed to be. Scur would hug her and Pepin. I hated how she always smiled. I hated that she helped more than she had to—that she wanted to help. Deep down, I knew I had no reason to hate her, but I did anyway—more and more everyday. Until that night. And…then I found her alone in the kitchen. She had taken away any affection Scur had for me—the only almost-father I’ve ever had; she took away my job; she took away my first real home. I didn’t have anything else.

  “When I came to, I was standing over her body with the knife in my hand, her blood everywhere. There was so much blood. I couldn’t believe what I had done. I still remember every detail of how she looked when she was—”

  Prim stared into the fire. “—Dead.”

  Daks said nothing.

  Prim forced herself to look up and directly into his eyes and continued with as firm a voice as she could muster. “I need to leave, Daks. I am broken, and I break things. You’ve both been through enough. I don’t want to hurt you more.”

  “You won’t. You’ve made our lives better.”

  Prim shook her head.

  “Yes, Prim, you have. Listen.” His eyes were unwavering. “I don’t know who you were before, but I know who you are now. Ora and I are so happy you’re here. Being around a good womanly presence has done her good. She really cares about you.

  “I know we spoke of you staying through the winter, but I need to say you are welcome to stay after winter as well. Despite whatever you did before you came here. I’m glad who you are here and now is here in my home with me and my daughter.”

  She didn’t want to accept his kind words but reluctantly said, “Thank you.” Her fingers traced the leather notebook, each edge and indent.