“If you’re certain…” he said, his voice tentative.
“I’ll be back soon.Maris, keep an eye on the stew, will you?I’ll not have it burn and go to waste.”
She huffed.
“She will,” Papa said, his voice sharp.
Which made Serena’s gaze snap in his direction.His eyes were hard as he peered at Maris, his arms folded across his chest.It had been a while since he sounded so…fatherly.
“Yes, Papa,” Maris said, dropping her gaze back to her mending.
“Be safe, my girl,” he said, giving her a nod of farewell.
“I will.”
Serena was out the door and around the back of the house to their one-stall stable.But it was difficult to walk in the deep snow.Taking the horse was the right decision.
Her father was once a farrier, but when the illness took their mother and then him, he was no longer able to work.They were luckier than most, though, as they managed to keep one horse for those days when she needed to travel swiftly into the village square.She was grateful for the mare, who snorted her greeting, the breath pluming like steam in the cold air.
“Hello, old girl,” she greeted, her voice soft.
After securing the pelts on the back of the horse, she mounted and was away.It was slow going with the horse picking her way through the thickening snow.The village was quiet.All were inside their own homes, with their own fires burning.Serena wondered what she would find in the village square.Surely, the merchant would be open despite the weather.
As she neared the square, the snow turned to slush where other horses and carts had rambled into town, leaving deep rivets in the ground.Still, she kept the horse slow and steady.Only a few brave souls were in town with ruddy cheeks under thick cloaks and scarves wrapped around their necks to ward off the chill.
At the merchant shop, she tied up the horse and hefted the pelts off the back.The door chimed her arrival.Once inside, she stamped her boots leaving behind snow drops.Mr.Brightwood stood at the counter placing an order with the merchant, Mr.Fullhide.They both looked her way as she paused in the door.Mr.Brightwood’s dark brows winged upward while Mr.Fullhide’s face fell into an unwelcome expression.
But Serena did not let that sway her.“Oh, Mr.Brightwood, hello.How is your ankle faring?Better?”
“Yes, thanks.”He turned back to the merchant and picked up a large package wrapped in brown paper.“You’ll put this on my account, Gerald?”
“Of course.”He gave a nod.
Mr.Brightwood turned from the counter and paused next to her as he passed by.“I hope your father is doing well, miss.His recovery is truly a miracle.”
There was a sharp edge to his tone.One she didn’t like.But she plastered on a smile, anyway.“I agree it is.My sister and I are thankful he’s better.”
“Hmm,” was all he said as he cut another glance back to Gerald Fullhide.
Then he was out the door.Serena approached the counter, releasing the pelts with a sigh.Her arms were shaking from the exertion.“Good afternoon, Mr.Fullhide.I’ve come to trade.”
He lifted a brow.Mr.Fullhide had been the village merchant since before she could remember.He was a grizzled old man, tall and reedy, with a face hosting a map of wrinkles and eyes that peered through old spectacles that had seen better days.The lenses were scratched, and it was a wonder he was able to see out of them at all.His thin gray hair stuck up around his head in spikes.
“I see.That all you got?”
“Yes.”Coming here didn’t seem like the best idea.Her nerves rattled.
His gnarled hands rifled through the pelts, looking at them each with a critical eye.“How was it your father made such a recovery?”he asked, clearly more interested in the local gossip than the furs.
“Oh,” she breathed.“A tonic.”It was as close to the truth as she was willing to get.
His icy gaze lifted as though he didn’t believe her, his eyes clouded behind the old lenses.“I heard it was a witch’s brew.”
“What?”The word sailed out of her before she stopped it.Then she shook her head.“No.Of course not.Wherever did you hear that?”
“Dr.Graves says he didn’t treat him,” he said.
Ah, so, since the old physician didn’t care for her father, then it could be nothing other than a magic concoction.How preposterous.Though, telling him she got the elixir from the stranger at the Well of Wishes seemed preposterous.And what could she say to that?The truth was that the doctordidn’ttreat her father.But if she told Fullhide the truth, he wouldn’t believe her, anyway.
