Chapter 18: Belonging
We take the knot of wood back to Grace’s cascade. Side by side, eyes closed, we listen to the rushing water. And we reach for magic.
But when I open my eyes, only Grace is silvered in a thin sheen of mist.
I hurl the useless bit of wood into the stream and watch it bob away on the water.
Then I wade in after the stupid thing, grumbling with every slippery step at myself, at tree-monsters and their wordless cursed gifts, at gross, messy, impossibly inconvenient nature in general. I’m drenched to the hips by the time I catch it again.
Grace is still where I left her at the side of the stream, though not, as far as I can tell, chatting with Cadence this time. I stretch out on the bank to dry in the sun, one hand on the damp bit of wood that fits itself so perfectly
