Before the Emerald Crown: A Romantasy Fairy Tale Villains Backstory Retelling Adaptation (The Before . . . Fairy Tale Series) by Michelle Deerwester-Dalrymple

Author:Michelle Deerwester-Dalrymple [Deerwester-Dalrymple, Michelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sword and Thistle LLC
Published: 2024-02-28T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Geneen’s sadness lingered throughout the day, and I was no fool. Her pain and worry were stamped across the deep lines of her face, only this time, it was not worry for me.

It was worry about me.

About me and what I might be able to do.

Geneen might have been welcoming to an orphaned lass with nowhere left to turn, but harboring a would-be witch wanted by a revenge-driven clan?

That was another matter altogether.

I sighed as I made my way past her and out the door to the lean-to. The animals were squalling, calling to be fed, and I obliged.

My body went through the motions but my mind was elsewhere, on what I was doing with my charming here with Geneen, and how that might affect her. My hands moved on their own as I spread the feed and poured icy water into the trough.

Something bumped my legs from behind, and I turned to find Mathilda. She looked up at me with her round brown eyes inquisitive and as worrisome as Geneen’s. She ripped me from my conflicted thoughts, and I patted her knobby head as I set the bucket to the side.

“I think we may have worn out our welcome here, Mathilda,” I told her.

I sat in the hay and she trotted close, her heavy, hairy scent both familiar and thick, enveloping me. She nickered again.

This time, I could almost hear her question as my head and neck tingled.

What?

“We may have to leave and find our own way. Geneen has taught me the value and ability of living on my own, and I think our time has come to depart. To protect Geneen. I may have become a burden. Do ye want to remain here or come with me into the unknown?”

She head-butted me lightly with another bray that sounded unquestionably like with ye.

So perchance I would not be completely alone.

But how to find a home? Thatch over our head? Enough nourishment to keep us fed?

Mathilda sensed my concerns and nickered again, tilting her head back.

We’ll be fine.

I glanced over her furry body to the chickens clucking, including a few young pullets.

I’m certain Geneen would gift me a chicken, and with Mathilda’s milk and my ability to speak to animals, we would do fine. At least, Mathilda was assured of our success.

“On the morrow, then,” I told Mathilda.

There were two things I needed to finish first.

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