The second footstep landed heavily on the frozen gravel outside the cabin, and every muscle in my body tightened before I had time to think.
Stay quiet, Alana warned, her presence sharpening inside my mind. One person. Male, I think. He smells of leather, steel, and mountain snow, but there is no Blackridge scent on him.
I moved immediately, returning the silver mortar, pestle, and vellum-wrapped roots to the juniper box before lowering it carefully into the hollow beneath the floor. The cedar plank settled back into place with only a faint scrape, but I kept Evelyn’s journal pressed against my chest. Whatever happened next, I was not putting my mother’s words back into the ground.
The vial of bitter tonic already rested in the inner pocket of my cloak, so I slid the journal beside it a
