He shouldn’t. He thought of Alva. Those big eyes. Those soft lips. How she felt under him when they made love.
What could it hurt to hear what the witch had to say?
“Tell me my future.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” How bad could it be?
As it turned out, pretty damned awful.
CHAPTER FOUR
Telling a person’s fortunes took only a little preparation. Grandmother soon set a carved stone dish filled with what appeared to be water in front of them.
“Put your hand in it and watch.”
Odd request, but Anders did as told, placing his hand in the warm water, eyeing it as the rippling surface smoothed. Grandmother placed her fingertips on the lip, and a tremor went through the dish.
Magic. Anders swallowed hard.
The water shivered then turned opaque before clearing into something else. A battlefield. With soldiers.
“That’s Guntar and me.” He watched in amazement as he swung a sword—one he didn’t own yet. He wore a uniform, too. The image showed him fighting in some skirmish, a glorious moment—
He gaped as he fell to the ground, stricken. The vision didn’t show him rising.
“I’m injured.”
“Dead,” Grandmother corrected.
“Dead?” He yanked his hand free. “No. I don’t believe you. This is some trick.”
“No trick, just your future if you continue on your current path.”
“Meaning I can’t become a soldier.” How would he tell Guntar?
“You would quit before you’ve begun?”
“Yes.” He’d be no use to Alva dead.
“Then let us try again and see what happens now that you’ve changed your path.”
He died again. This time, brigands outside of town robbed him of his hunt—a fat deer. They also took his life.
Upon snapping free from that horrible future, he declared he’d simply never leave the town again before he stuck his hand back into the water.
Trampled by a horse that snapped free of its tether.
In frustration, he slapped the dish and sent water spraying. He heaved and huffed. Agitated. “You are going too far with your tricks.”
“Don’t be mad at me because you can’t handle the truth.”
“Meaning I should accept the fact that I’m going to die?”
“Of course, not.” Grandmother laughed. “You should ask me what you can do to escape those fates.”
He waved a hand. “We both saw. Nothing will save me. There exists no path to a happily ever after with Alva.”
“Don’t be so sure. I know of a way. But there is a cost.”
“Of course, there is,” he grumbled. “I have no money.”
“You have other things.”
“Such as?”
She eyed him in a way that undressed and examined him intimately. It made his skin crawl.
“I will not betray Alva.”
Grandmother uttered a snorting noise. “I am past an age for those types of things. You planned to be a soldier. Meaning, you have the instinct to protect.”
“I guess.”
“And you are a hunter?”
“Yeah.” With funds so scarce, he had to rely on all his skills, including that which put food on the table and allowed him to trade for the basics.
“Excellent. You can serve me in payment.”
His gaze narrowed. “Serve you? For how long?”
“For as long as it takes.”
“That’s not an answer. I am not agreeing to that.”
“Then I hope you enjoy your death, whichever one you choose.”
“I am not dying,” he grumbled.
“The basin of fate never lies.”
“It’s wrong this time. And I’ve had enough of your tricks. We’re leaving.”
Her matronly expression turned sly. “Leave if you like. But first, there is the matter of payment.”
“I owe you nothing. I told you, I am not taking your deal.”
“This is about everything else. The lodging, the food, the many readings we did. Those services aren’t free. Why, how would I sustain myself otherwise?”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“So you just assumed you could take? Are you a thief?”
“No.”
“Then pay.”
“I have nothing.”
“But yourself. And that’s all I need.”
Before he could protest, invisible bonds banded him. He couldn’t move, and yelling proved fruitless. He could only see and hear. Hear Grandmother humming to herself, smell fragrant herbs.
And then she approached, arms full of fur, which she threw over him. A pot of boiling liquid followed, along with pain, only he couldn’t writhe, couldn’t scream.
He closed his eyes and fought to remain afloat amidst the agony. His entire body tore and jerked, wrenched in one direction and then the next. Ligaments and skin ripped. Flesh and bone expanded. Parts of him shrank. Crack, crunch, sploosh.
He would have screamed if he could, but there was no air, no mouth, no tongue.
The long, crucifying moment of agony suddenly eased.
When he opened his maw wide to yell, it emerged as a howl.
CHAPTER FIVE
After a long and rough winter, with more wolf attacks …
Alva hummed as she rose with the dawn. Time to get baking. Each day got easier and easier because, as the days lengthened and spring sprung, she knew it wouldn’t be long before Anders returned from his first stint at war.
She couldn’t wait. She’d spent the winter preparing, sewing by lamplight every night. Expert stitches for the gown she’d be married in and a fine coat and pants for him. She hoped he’d be as excited as she when she told him that Papa wanted to hire him. They could even live with her parents above the shop. It would be tight, but Mama and Papa talked about moving into the empty house down the street with the little garden. The widow had died over the winter, leaving it available for purchase from the town.
The crocuses popped, blues and purples and yellows, the first colors of spring. As the snow on the roads melted, the first of the travelers and peddlers began coming through.
From them, she heard stories of the distant battles. Wolves hunting the woods. Bears, too. Oh my. All kinds of tales, tall and short.
But no soldiers came.
When word finally arrived from the king’s army, it was via a letter that Guntar had sent to his family—a family soon mourning, for the captain had died in battle. But in good news, Guntar, the son and now supporter of his mother and sisters, was fine.
No letter for Alva. She even resorted to knocking on the door to the hut Anders shared with his mother, asking if she’d gotten word.
The screaming rang in her ears long after she fled. She mailed a letter to the king’s army, addressed to Anders. Cost her a few loaves of bread to send.
Summer waxed and waned. No reply came, but Alva didn’t lose hope. In her heart, she knew that he was all right.
They were soulmates. She just had to keep the faith.
While she waited, she kept busy. As if the bakery weren’t enough, she tended the garden and canned everything she could. It would be a long winter. She could feel it in her bones.