Alira woke gradually but remained still, her eyes shut. She could feel by the chill and the darkness around her that she had slept until after sundown. She listened for Henry’s movements and heard his voice.
“And then? The Daughter of Man…What was the next passage?” She heard fingers snapping and surmised he was in his human form. “I’ll never remember. I gotta get my hands on the book.”
Alira opened her eyes and watched the slender man for a long moment as he muttered to himself. He had kept their small fire alight, the bright flames highlighting his shiny curls as he shook his head. Henry tilted his head back and sighed heavily, leaning back on his hands. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply through his nose. He had given himself a green satin lined cloak to ward off the cool night.
Did he feel the cold?
“Talking to yourself seems a little unstable,” Alira said as she stretched on her back.
“Hmm, well you’ve not spent two decades alone with the stars and the dead.” He kept his eyes closed as he replied, only opening them when she sat up. “You talk in your sleep.”
“I do?”
“You did.” His eyes found hers and he smiled, the barest hint of warmth touching the grin.
“Anything interesting?” She stood and dusted herself off and turned her back to him to head to the water’s edge. She knelt and reached her hands into the dark water, the coolness waking her. She cupped a handful and prepared to dash it across her face.
“You said you wanted to say goodbye to her.” His words came from her elbow and a small fox nose nudged her arm. She splashed her face and scrubbed it before answering.
“I do,” she took another handful of water and sipped it noisily. “I don’t know when I’ll be back here again.”
“I think she’d have liked that.” Henry laid his head on his paws and sighed. “I’ll also be able to say goodbye.”
“Would you like to see her grave?” Alira asked suddenly as she sat back on her heels. Henry lifted his head and blinked.
“Of course.” His tone was hard as though she had offended him. “She tamed me and deserves the respect that comes with that privilege.” Alira looked away respectfully and nodded once.
They walked for about an hour, Alira silent and fox-Henry chattering almost constantly. The young woman was used to being quiet and didn’t feel the need to respond to the spirit’s inane comments about the heat under the trees or how much longer it would take them to walk instead of fly or run as he wanted.
“Why are humans so incredibly slow?” Henry whined as Alira climbed up and over a huge fallen tree. She dropped to the soft ground on the other side of the log and grunted her non-committal reply. Henry huffed his annoyance and shimmered into his human form again. He tried to take her hand to urge her faster but Alira resisted and pulled free, shaking her head.
“I need the slowness.” Her short comment brought a contemplative look to Henry’s otherwise impish face.
“You’re sad,” he stated. Alira nodded and shrugged her pack higher onto her back, brushing past him as he waited for further expansion.
“I’ve not been home since I left two years ago.”
“That makes you sad?” Henry seemed genuinely confused. “Are you not excited to be home, then?” Alira shook her head, finding it hard to explain why coming back to her childhood home would be bittersweet. Suddenly, Henry seemed to understand.
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“You've been seeing your childhood in a different light since meeting me. You’re wondering what other secrets you may uncover.” It was Alira’s turn to huff in annoyance.
“Yes, but having it voiced aloud like that is just as painful as realising it on my own. Thank you for your insight, but please shut up.”
For once, Henry obliged, putting his hands up in surrender and waving her forward. He became a fox again and trotted at her side, his tail swishing softly against her leg.
When they finally came upon her old homestead, Alira couldn’t leave the line of trees. She stared at the small cottage, the whitewashed walls a dirty grey. She could see the faded blue curtains in the window of the kitchen and the bright yellow ones in the window of their bedroom. The yard where her mother had kept several egg-laying hens was so densely packed with grass that she couldn’t see the small coop. The cobbled path that led to the patch of woods where they had picked mushrooms and hazelnuts was overgrown with weeds and wildflowers. Tears filled her eyes as she took a step into the relatively wild and reclaimed area around her childhood home.
Alira ignored Henry’s questions as she put one foot in front of the other, letting her body take her to the small grave beside the cottage. It too had been overrun by nature, the wooden marker she herself had placed was weathered and green with moss. She had buried her mother and left, intending to come back after she had some money saved and buy her a real headstone. But the raiders had come, ripping her plans from her hands.
She stood before the resting place of her mother and felt a calm come upon her shoulders. The birds in the woods behind her went silent, the sun dimmed slightly, the wind silent. A preternatural hush fell around her as Henry, his form human, took her hand.
A younger, stouter Alira shovelled soil, digging her mother a grave. The sun was setting on her form, the shrouded remains of her only family beside her on the ground. Tears were falling fast and hard from her, sobs escaping with such force they choked her. She felt like she would never know peace again. She felt like the world would never feel safe or right or happy again. She wanted her mother back.
She bent and lifted her mother, struggling to keep the sheet wrapped around her. When she had managed to get her mother’s body into the grave she started to pile the things her mother treasured on top of her: a heavy dark cloak, a paper wrapped bundle of herbs and a long, heavy package wrapped in thin leather. Her Witch Knife.
Before placing the blade in with her mother, Alira unwrapped the wicked looking weapon one last time and stared down at it. The dark red gems caught the fading light and looked like droplets of blood, the emeralds were almost black. The moonstone in the pommel shimmered blue and pink, green then silver. The black blade rippled and a dark panic rose inside her. She covered the blade as a shiver ran down her back and tucked it into the grave, laying it on her mother’s breast. The wind picked up, tugging on Alira’s plain brown dress as she began covering the grave.
“Her blade is buried with her,” Henry said in awe. Had he seen her memories? Alira just nodded and his hand tightened on hers. “Why?” he whispered.
“She told me to.” Alira looked up to his face and was surprised to see his face shocked, his eyes wide.
“They didn’t come to claim it?”
“No. She told me to tell anyone that was looking for her that her Knife was buried with her…” her voice trailed off as she remembered her mother’s words.
…red hair…
Henry hissed, sucking in his breath as he let go of her hand.
“The Morinn would never let an unclaimed blade be lost if they knew about it.” His form shimmered and he became a fox again. “Dig it up and let’s go.”
“What?” she said, breathless at his suggestion. “Dig up my mother’s grave?” The wind picked up and Alira heard cawing above them. She looked up and saw several enormous crows looking down at her, their heads tilting as they surveyed. The bright, metallic smell of magic was on the wind and a chill shot down her spine.
“Idiot!” Henry barked and began to dig with his small fox paws. “It’s not an unclaimed blade. The Witches can track the blade if it’s claimed, if it has a blood pact bound to it. They know exactly where this thing is and how to find it.” His frantic yips became unintelligible as he dug deeper. Alira fell to her knees and dug her hands into the hardened soil.
In a matter of minutes they had the grave opened, the grey shrouded corpse giving off a whiff of earthy death. Spotting the leather wrapped blade, Alira pointed to it and shouted.
“There!” Henry grabbed it in his jaws and yipped as he bound away, running full tilt for the door to the cabin. Alira took off after him, tripping over the vines and roots around her. At the entrance to the cottage, Henry dropped the bundle and became a man again. He leaned back and punched the window out next to the door and reached in and lifted the latch. He threw the door open and waved her in as he stooped to pick up the blade.