Sage shrugged. “It will grow out. I’ll be just like you again.”
“You were never just like me,” Willow replied. “You’re too smart.”
Sage’s face, illuminated by the firelight, showed no emotion as she stared into the flames again without answering.
Marcus’s heart sank. He couldn’t help but step forward to be closer to her, aching to take away her anguish and offer her comfort.
“Do you need help moving your animals from the water?” Christian asked John.
Marcus’s gaze fell on Christian. Sterling’s father was pursuing them, and they had no time to lend a hand. He knew rain and floods wouldn’t stop them.
“I appreciate your offer,” John replied. “But I moved them when it first started raining.”
Raven and Landyn sat at the table across from Sage. “What’s the next part, Sage?” Raven asked.
Sage lowered her head. “Simple directions.”
Marcus’s chest tightened as he heard the anguish in her voice, and his feet moved toward her almost automatically. He knelt, taking her hands into his; they were cold to the touch. Her auburn gaze met his, and he was struck with a wave of sorrow. Without thought, he opened his arms and pulled her close, hugging her tightly against him.
The room became silent as all eyes fixed on Sage.
The little boy skipped up to Sage and hugged her.
Marcus pulled back, startled by the sudden show of affection from the boy. The child wedged between Marcus and Sage, squeezing onto Sage’s lap, his little fingers gripping her clothing.
Her eyes widened as she stared at the boy. The confusion in her gaze slowly shifted to resignation. She sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping, and rested her forehead against Marcus’s shoulder.
As she snuck from the farmhouse, the creaking floorboard seemed to amplify Sage’s quiet footsteps. She paused at each one to ensure the sound hadn’t woken anyone. She steadied her breath and inched open the door until a narrow beam of moonlight shone through, then peeked back at Marcus, who was fast asleep against the wall. A tattered blanket covered most of him except his feet, which were crossed and bare. She exhaled softly and snuck out into the night.
The rain had ended, and a foggy mist clung to the night sky. In the distance, she heard the vigorous rush of the river. She slowly raised her gaze to the heavens, and the thin, crescent moon shone like a half-closed eyelid, as if someone were watching her.
If Willow had lost Mercy, she would have been devastated. Sage’s eyes came to rest on the six horses in the sodden pasture and recognized Mercy immediately. She was the smallest horse. They had often teased Willow about that when they were young. Yet, Mercy had proven herself over and over as the fastest, and through her devotion to Willow.
Sage’s feet sloshed through the wet field as she approached the six horses. A few curious heads lifted and turned towards her, but it was her steed, Achilles, that trotted towards her, nickering a friendly welcome. Sage paused to give him a gentle brush on the nose before continuing to Mercy. The light bay mare softly nickered as Sage stroked her neck and reached out to catch her reins. She was certain that Willow had inspected Mercy thoroughly for injuries. But it would relax Sage to recheck the steed.
Sage trailed her hands over the steed’s back and down her rear legs. Her mind wandered from her work to the book. The next few directions were pretty straightforward.Follow the riverbank north to the split oak. Go east and follow the sunrise.
She had no idea how long this would take or where the directions were leading them. All she knew was that she had to be right. And there was one section in the directions that disturbed her.
The dead point the way.
It sounded foreboding and chilling. She hadn’t told the rest about it because, perchance, it wasn’t what it seemed. None of the directions were. Who would have thought East was a town? Or that the dragon would turn out to be a plant? Whoever had made these directions did not intend for them to be followed easily.
She ran her hands over Mercy’s right leg, feeling for heat or swelling as she moved her fingers along the mare’s fetlock. Mercy shifted her weight and stepped back, her ears swiveling toward Sage. She spoke in a low voice and gave Mercy’s neck a reassuring stroke before continuing her examination.
Sage’s jaw clenched as a vivid image of Willow’s face scrunching in fright just before she disappeared beneath the murky brown water flashed in her mind. She shook her head to clear the memory and focused on Mercy. Finding nothing to worry about, she released a sigh of relief and stepped away from the animal.
Her teeth were still clenched, and her neck was tight. Was this worth endangering her family?
“Willow already did that.”
Sage whirled and found Raven standing a few feet away, her arms crossed, her face set in an expression of curiosity. Sage was slightly annoyed that she had not heard Raven approaching. She glanced at her steed with mock disappointment. “Thanks for the warning.”
The horse bobbed his head as if in reply.
“I know,” Sage answered. “It gave me something to do.”
Raven’s eyes narrowed slightly in thought. She looked at Mercy and then at Sage. “Can’t sleep?”
