Frost (6 page)

A few of the people around me began whispering. I saw the worried glances, the wide eyes. The Farmers and others who lived on the outskirts of the community looked most unsettled, because they were the ones most likely to encounter one of the creatures.

“Don’t be unduly alarmed,” the Mayor continued, flashing the crowd a reassuring smile now. “Simply be prepared. Follow the rules and work hard. Safety, fraternity, integrity.”

We repeated it after him.
Safety, fraternity, integrity
. It was our village motto and highest code. Because of our high level of organization and our strong set of rules, we’d survived when other communities here had failed.

Guilt stabbed at my heart as I spoke the words, because I had failed the first imperative—safety. I might have failed the last, too, because I was harboring the Farther in my barn and I was keeping him a secret. But I didn’t know what else to do—I’d picked up a rock snake, and I was afraid to let it go lest I be bitten and killed.

We were dismissed after repeating the motto. Villagers stood and streamed for the doors, whispering about the Watchers or discussing the courtship lists. I sat in my place, feeling miserable and numb.

Ann grabbed my arm and clung to it tightly, as if she would be safe as long as she hung onto me. “Can you believe the news about the Watchers?”

“It’s frightening,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. In my mind’s eye I kept seeing the tracks in front of the barn. Sometimes I felt a little resentful of Ann. She lived in the town and the Watchers were just a scary story here. It was the ones who lived on the edges of the village grounds that had to really worry. People like me, people who were already struggling to meet quota and feed their families.

“Will your family be safe?”

“We’ll be fine,” I murmured. I thought of the Farther in the barn again, and my stomach tightened. Right now, I had worse problems on my mind.

Apparently my lackluster response failed to satisfy her. “Lia,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “Are you all right? You seem...distant.”

“I’m just thinking,” I replied, standing and giving my skirt a shake. “And I’m really tired. The storm kept me awake last night.”

Ann bit her lip, sympathy flashing in her eyes. “You’ve always hated the storms, haven’t you?”

Cole, who’d been listening quietly from a few feet away, stepped over and inserted himself into the conversation. “I have a hard time believing you’re afraid of anything, Lia.”

His smile was wide and sly, like he was paying me a compliment, but I felt only intense irritation. How little he knew me, if he thought that. I was afraid of everything. I had to be, if I wanted my family to survive to the next winter. And sometimes it seemed like I was the only one who worried about these things.

Right now I wanted to be left alone so I could think about them in peace.

Cole saw my expression. His smile faded. Ann saw, and rushed to salvage the mood. She followed me down the aisle toward the door, Cole at her side. “Are you coming to the social?”

She didn’t look at Cole when she asked, and I had the sudden suspicion that this conversation had been planned between them.

“I don’t know,” I said, brusque. “I can’t promise anything.” I loved her, of course, but at the moment I wanted to be rid of her so I could go home and make sure Ivy and Jonn were alive and well, and the Farther was undiscovered.

“Come on,” Ann coaxed, not noticing my impatience or maybe just ignoring it. “There’s going to be sweets, and music, and dancing...more fun than we’ve had in months. Surely you don’t want to miss it.”

“I won’t have anything to wear,” I said, both because it was a good excuse and because it was true. Speaking of my poverty usually shut people up.

But Ann was undeterred this time. “Borrow something of mine. We’re the same size.”

“Come on, Lia,” Cole said.

“All right,” I said, just so they would leave me alone.

Ann beamed. She hugged me, releasing me abruptly when her father called her name. “I have to go—those pillows won’t make themselves.”

Cole and I were left standing together, watching her saunter off arm in arm with her father. A tiny flicker of exhausted resentment rose in my chest—how was it that her quota involved cross-stitching on decorative pillows, and mine involved hours of spinning yarn?

Cole shuffled his feet and fiddled with his hands. The sly smile crossed his face, but he schooled it into a serious expression. “Lia…”

I looked toward the paths to the farms, anxiety gnawing at me again.

“About the social,” he said, and then stopped. “Maybe it’s painfully obvious, but...”

Pain
. That reminded me. “I need to visit the market,” I said.

He paused. “I’ll accompany you.”

We walked swiftly, me because I was worried about Ivy and Jonn and the farm, him because he was trying to keep up with me. I spotted the woman I needed—old Tamma Gatherer, with her bags of dried herbs and roots. She sold the extras in the market after making her quota every week.

“What herbs would you suggest for a deep wound that might become infected?” I asked when I reached the stall, my voice barely above a whisper. I wished Cole would go away, but he lingered within hearing distance. I silently willed him to not listen, or not ask me questions.

Tamma pursed her lips. “Blood’s bane, for the wound, and fever root for the sickness that will come from the infection.”

I took the herbs from her outstretched hand. They rustled in my hand as I slid them into my pocket. I withdrew a small bundle of yarn from my other pocket and slipped it to her. My insides ached—that could have gone toward our quota—but the Farther needed medicine if he was going to survive another night.

“One of your horses injured?” she asked, her eyebrow lifting shrewdly. “The cow?”

I flushed. “No.” I turned and left before she could ask any more questions. As I walked away, I berated myself for acting so suspicious. I should have chatted, perhaps suggested something that would have given her a different impression.

Cole caught up to me again. A few of the other villagers glanced up at us from their chores with knowing smiles, and my face flushed. Was my reluctant courtship the talk of the whole town?

“You’re in such a hurry.”

“I have to get back,” I said. “Lots of yarn to spin.”

“Quota, quota, quota,” he growled. “You never talk about anything else.”

I bit down on my tongue to keep from snapping at him. “What else is there?” I said, sharply. Between my crippled brother and my airheaded sister, we never had enough hands, it seemed, but I couldn’t tell the Elders that or they’d split us up and take the farm.

Cole’s eyes narrowed. “Come on, Lia. You’ll never get anywhere with that attitude.”

I glanced over the herbs Tamma had given me, mentally calculating how long they’d last.
Get anywhere
? As if there was any future for someone in our village besides back-breaking work. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You wait and see,” he said, his voice suddenly fierce. “One day I’m going to be at the very top, and you’ll wish you’d believed in me then.”

I glanced at him, and the intensity in his gaze frightened me a little. “Cole…”

“Sorry,” he said, turning his head to hide his gaze a moment. When he looked back, his expression was neutral again, and he smiled at me and changed the subject. “You should come by and see me at the shop sometime,” he said. “Next time you’re in town for your quota.” He emphasized the word with a flick of his eyebrows.

I forced a smile. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt your work.” With a shrug, I turned to go.

“Lia,” he said, grabbing my wrist. “An interruption from you is never a bother.”

My eyes dropped to his hand, and I held them there, warning him silently. He blushed and let go. We were
not
courting. He had no right to make advances.

“I’m sorry,” he started to say, but I cut him off.

“I must go.”

He fell back, and I could feel his eyes boring into my back as I took the path toward the farms.

A shadow detached from the alleyway beside me. Adam Brewer. My heart squeezed into my throat, and I walked faster, but he blocked my path.

Our gazes tangled. I sucked in a breath, and his jaw twitched.

“I need to speak with you,” he said.

No greetings, no small talk. Just that. I didn’t know what to say.

Adam waited. Wind stirred his hair and ruffled his cloak. The sunlight against the snow around him blinded me, making me blink and turn away. “What do you want?” I gritted. I was tired from dealing with Cole. I was anxious from the news I’d heard at Assembly.

“Your family—they are all well?”

The question stung, coming from him. I lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I suppose.”

“Your farm is far from the rest of the village,” he said. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. Was he trying to antagonize me, or was this his clumsy attempt at making friends? “Do you see much out there?”

See much? I hesitated, thinking of the Farther. Did he suspect…?

No. None of them could possibly know. I was being too nervous, too jumpy.

“Not much,” I said.

Adam glanced over my head at the forest beyond the village walls. “The woods can be lonely on the farms. Ours is quite remote too. Nothing but ice and trees all around.”

“Yes,” I agreed. Was he trying to tease a confession from me, or establish solidarity? This conversation was turning into a deadly dance.

Adam hesitated. I could see him weighing the words in his mind. “The Watchers don’t wander too close?”

A shiver of anger went through me, and I turned my head to stare into his face without responding.

He flinched at my expression. “I know certain accusations have been made against my family—”

I almost choked. “Accusations?”

His eyes narrowed. “Yes. Accusations.”

I couldn’t contain the words that burst out of me. They burned on my tongue, hot with fury. “Calling them accusations implies that you feel they are not true. My parents are
dead
, Adam. Dead! That has not been fabricated. And they were helping your father with his quota when it happened. He left them in the forest alone with his barrels while he went back for more. He didn’t report them missing to the Elders. Can you deny it?”

He hesitated. Was it guilt that kept him from spitting the words out? Did he want to apologize for my parents’ deaths?

“I cannot.”

My hands formed fists. Nervous energy danced over my skin, fueling my words. “Leave me alone. Don’t try to be my friend.”

“Your parents—”

“
Don’t
speak to me about my parents,” I said, shutting my eyes. “I’m sick of this conversation.”

Whirling, I headed for the gate, and home.

He didn’t follow.

MY ANGER HAD settled into a cool resolve by the time I reached the farm again. I shut Adam Brewer and his baffling behavior from my mind as I stared down at the house from my vantage point at the top of the hill. I couldn’t worry about him right now. I had more than enough on my proverbial plate already. I needed to ensure we made quota, and I needed to deal with this Farther in our barn. I went down into the yard, heading for the house.

A cold wind blew down from the mountains, chilling my cheeks and stealing my breath. I inhaled deeply, my hand on the door, and then I went inside.

Jonn looked up from his place by the fire. Ivy sat beside him, her hands full of yarn, and I almost slumped against the wall with relief that she hadn’t run off again.

“Took you long enough,” she said, glaring.

“I had to get herbs for your Farther…”

“He’s not
my
Farther,” Ivy said.

“…And then Cole Carver wouldn’t leave me alone.” I didn’t mention Adam Brewer.

“Cole Carver?” Jonn looked amused.

“Bringing him home was your idea,” I said to Ivy, shooting Jonn a warning look. Unperturbed by my glare, he grinned.

I went into the kitchen and fetched a kettle. Filling it with water from the pump, I stomped to the fireplace and slung it over the cooking spit.

“What did they say in Assembly?” Jonn asked.

“The usual. Rules, rules, don’t break the rules. No mention of Farthers. But the Watchers have been sighted in greater numbers lately.” A chill slipped down my spine just saying it. “I saw some of their tracks this morning in the yard.”

Ivy paled. Jonn straightened, the blanket around his waist slipping over his knees. “Do they know why the Watchers are acting restless?”

I shook my head. I already had a sick stomach just thinking about those tracks in the snow. “They said they didn’t. They said to keep wearing the snow blossoms and to be careful after dark.” My eyes moved to the yarn. “How’s the quota coming today?”

He held up a bundle, neatly tied and ready for the sack. A little of the tension drained from my body. It was progress. At least Ivy hadn’t wandered off today. Maybe the whole Farther thing was scaring a little sense into her.

I tucked my hand in my pocket, and my fingers brushed metal. The thing from the Farther’s back. I pulled it out and held it aloft. Firelight flashed over the slick surface as I turned it.

“What is that?” Jonn asked, leaning forward with interest.

“I took it out of the Farther’s back. Do you think it’s some sort of bullet?”

“Hmmm,” he said. I put it into his fingers, and he turned it over. “It’s a shoddy bullet if that’s what it is. The shape is all wrong. And what are these etchings?”

I took it back from him and put it in my pocket. Maybe I would ask the Farther himself.

When the water in the kettle heated, I poured it into a bucket and headed for the door with the bucket in one hand and a packed basket of food for his dinner in the other. I had to get this out of the way before nightfall. Hopefully he was well enough to swallow some dry bread and cheese, because I had little else.

“Shall I come with you?” Ivy asked.

“No, work on the weaving.” With the herbs in my pocket and the bucket and basket in my arms, I slipped to the barn and struggled to get the heavy door open with my arms full. I let the bar fall down behind me as I stepped inside and crept toward the nest of hay in the back.