Page 116 of The Sun He Buried

She catches the smallest child by the back of his coat.

He hangs there with both boots off the ground.

“Sorry,” he says.

“You will be.”

She points him downhill.

He collects the hide and runs.

I smile at her.

“Not one word.”

“You were wonderful.”

“One word.”

Snowpetal returns with half a pine branch in her mouth.

“You can’t bring that inside.”

She drags it after us.

By the time we find Ketill, the branch has knocked over a bucket, caught between two fence posts, and collected a strip of somebody’s washing.

Ketill removes a wool stocking from it.

“Productive morning?”

“She’s learning about the settlement.”

“The settlement has concerns.”

Asta takes the stocking and turns toward the nearest houses. “Whose?”

Ketill points without checking. “Third house. Blue door.”

She goes to return it.

He watches her cross the path. “Does she always fix your damage?”

“Only the parts I can’t hide.”

“That explains the lists.”

“You saw the lists?”

“Everyone saw the lists.”

Asta comes back before I can defend emergency stockings.

Ketill has three ledgers tucked beneath one arm and a burn-darkened coat fastened to his throat. “I’m going to the scale yard. You can come, if you agree not to enter the mine.”

“Why would we enter the mine?”

He looks at me.