3
CODY
Cody waits for her father for an hour, and then she searches the wood. But she cannot find him.
She doesn’t return home until dusk, and would search through the night if not for the Night Beasts.
She tethers the mare, and spares a few minutes to brush out its bur-tangled mane. She’s been swearing and worrying and now, the gentle beast is out of sorts. It stomps its feet and shakes its head and snorts.
Cody makes her breath even; she makes her heartbeat slow. She whispers words as fluffy and sweet as sweetbread. She cups a hand over the mare’s dusty muzzle, stroking it softly, and it calms.
She has a way with the mare, and a way with the squawking, mite-ridden chickens, half plucked by their own hooked beaks, which now make rings around her ankles. She shoos them off.
Th
