Tanyth Fairport 03 The Hermit of Lammas Wood by Nathan Lowell

Author:Nathan Lowell [Lowell, Nathan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy
Amazon: B00HTRX3CE
Goodreads: 20524342
Publisher: Durandus
Published: 2013-12-31T17:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-four:

Terrible Gossips

Tanyth found her bedroll next to the hearth and vowed to never try to drink along with Gertie Pinecrest ever again. The room swam around her. Only the sure knowledge that the stones could not move kept her from trying to grip the floor.

She lay there in the glow from the dying fire and gazed up at the oblongs of moonlight that marked the windows. A hundred winters seemed an incredible amount of time until she realized that it was only twice as long as her whole life. Less, really. Someone born when the cottage had been built might have been still alive when she started the long path that led her to it. Those who did the actual building were long gone, but time felt a bit more fluid to her—a bit more forgiving, somehow.

The night wind whispered in the eaves of the cottage. A storm blows from the west, sweeping a bit of snow onto the peaks but dropping icy rain on the lowlands. Across the valley and over the next ridge, two women huddle in their bedrolls and stare at a meager fire. The scent of roasted rabbit wafts on the breeze. Far to the south, a dark blight festers in a notch on the coast.

Tanyth sat upright in her bedroll and blinked her eyes wide in the dimness to wake herself. She found that she was not sleeping.

Gertie’s chuckling interrupted the sound of the winds in the eaves. “Told ya,” she said. “Terrible gossips, trees.”

“You heard it?” Tanyth asked, lowering herself back onto the hard floor.

“Almost every night, there’s a wind that blows up the valley. Surprisin’ what you’ll hear if you listen.”

“Storm comin’?”

“Aye. ’spected as much. My hands ache somethin’ awful when the weather changes. Trees not tellin’ me what I don’t know.”

Tanyth rolled onto her side and cradled her head on an arm. “Never heard the like before.”

“Never been far enough from people to hear before.” The old woman sighed. “The price we pay for the gift.”

“You’re here.”

“Aye, but only barely. The older you are, the less you’re here until your body gives up and lets you move on.”

Tanyth felt her eyes closing and sleep stealing over her. “That’s why the girls had to leave,” she said, her voice a low murmur.

“Aye. They’re young and alive and very much there. The wind finds them and the trees see them clearly. Old sticks like me? Only barely here. Easy to overlook an old woman but even then I can’t hear as well. See as much when you’re here.”

Tanyth heard the cot’s ropes stretch and scrape as Gertie rolled over. If she was going to spend too many more nights here, she’d need to make a bed of her own. The stone floor offered scant comfort to old bones.

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