Chapter 6 #2
Hazel just shakes her head. “That won’t ever be us.” She repeats the sentiment from the day I saw her in the forest. “I won’t cower like that. We won’t,” she says. “We don’t hide.”
Cedar just pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. “If it comes down to choosing between hiding or dying, I would hide, Hazel.” I pull at the ends of my hair as I watch Hazel glance over at her. “And I hope for the sake of the gods, and the people in this town, that you would hide too.”
“I won’t—”
“We already lost Finnick,” Cedar interrupts her, her words rubbing salt in the wound I’m uncertain will ever heal. “We cannot lose you too.” She grabs Hazel’s hand, her firm voice softening. “You are too valuable. To this town, and to us.”
She’s right.
I remember the fear that I felt when Hazel came into my life. That she so effortlessly became someone I cared for terrified me. The only thing that’s ever happened to anyone I've loved is death.
All except for one.
I was so scared to let anyone else close enough that they might get hurt too, but I didn't have a choice with Hazel, nor Cedar, and sometimes that fear still finds a way to choke me. When I am alone at night, it creeps over my shoulders like a blanket, like something I keep near for comfort. But it’s not warm; it's cutting.
Cedar is right about more than just Hazel’s value to us. This town would suffocate under the pressure if we lost another healer. We are teetering at the breaking point as it is.
“We shouldn’t even have to speak about this,” I say, shaking my head. “What we would do in a situation where the only other option is death.” My voice catches as my eyes become hot with moisture. Enough people have died in my life—I can’t bear to imagine adding another name to that list.
Cedar changes the topic, her hand still holding Hazel’s. “Did you find what you were looking for in those journals, Everleigh?”
“What journals?” Hazel asks.
“Those journals.” Cedar gestures to the pile of books stacked on a chair in the corner of the room.
“When the mayor made his appearance at the library, I was there, issuing out some old healer’s journals. I’m looking for anything around the correct dosage of Belladonna for a patient of Thorley’s who is experiencing paranoia.” Although after hearing from Mr. Bagley, I’m not sure I can blame her.
“Belladonna can—”
“Kill, I know,” I finish her sentence. “Hence, I’m searching for any and all records of it being used.”
“And did you?” Cedar cuts in.
“Not exactly,” I say. “There are mentions of it being used in a journal I read through this morning, but no exact measurements. I need to keep reading…I got distracted after Mr. Bagley’s arrival.”
I couldn’t get the images out of my head, couldn’t concentrate on anything after everything that he told me. “Can we change the subject?” I ask, not wanting to linger on those thoughts for any longer.
“Yes, of course,” Cedar says.
“On another note,” Hazel switches the tone once more, picking up her tea from where it sits on the table, steam rising in the candlelight. “How is Silas?”
Cedar’s cheeks round with a smirk at the question.
“Silas is…Silas. I’m not sure how he is,” I say, my voice betraying my unbothered approach. I’m not sure this line of questioning is any better for my spinning mind.
Hazel just snorts into her tea as Cedar coughs a laugh. “Of course you do.”
“I don’t. I haven’t seen him for a few days.”
“Wow…” Hazel mocks. “Trying to act relaxed about it, are you?”
“Relaxed about what?” I shrug, picking up my own cup of tea. “I’ve been busy, he has been busy. As is life.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“What?” I ask, tipping my head with a dull expression.
Cedar just grins one of those silly girly grins. “We are not simply going to sit here and pretend that you two don’t have this charged energy between you. One that has been simmering under the surface for nearly two years now.”
“It is boiling at this point,” Hazel adds.
I choke on a laugh.
“Not to mention you have been in love with him since you were, what? Seven years of age.”
“Okay, that’s slightly dramatic, Cedar,” I say. “Even for you.”
Cedar mimics being stabbed in the chest. “Oh, the brutality!”
I just roll my eyes whilst fighting a grin. “Nothing is happening between Silas and me now, just as there has been nothing going on between us forever.”
The girls simply raise their eyebrows in disbelief. “Can we pick any other topic?” I ask, and they both chuckle, sharing a look between themselves.
“Oh, Hazel!” Cedar’s attention is quickly stolen as she begins telling Hazel of a book she found for her in the library.
I smile, shaking my head as I pick up the empty teacups and take them into the kitchen.
I place the jug on to boil so I can wash the cups now because if I wait until later, I simply won’t do it. I tip the excess tea leaves out, being careful with the cups—they were my mother's, and one of the few things I took from our old house.
I nearly jump as I look out the window in front of me, a figure catching my eye in the dim moonlight.
He stands relaxed, leaning up against the tallest oak tree right at the edge of the clearing.
He looks to have something in his hands, something he is twirling between his fingers.
Moonlight catches on his sandy hair, and I suck in a breath as the realisation hits.
The boy from the lake.
His gaze jumps up, as if he could feel mine on his relaxed stature. I can barely see him, let alone his eyes, but I get the distinct feeling that he is looking right at me.
It is odd to see someone I met only yesterday standing outside my house.
I feel as though I should be concerned, worried, or even disturbed that he knows where I live, that he is staring at me through my window right this very moment.
But I don’t feel that at all. The only thing I feel is intrigued, curious as to what he is thinking as he throws whatever he was holding away before he slips into the darkness of the forest, leaving me staring at the oak tree as if it holds all the answers.
“Everleigh!” Hazel’s voice is suddenly right in my ear as she stands beside me, pulling the kettle from where it was whistling on the stovetop right in front of me. I didn’t so much as hear a whisper of it.
“Gods, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she says, pouring the boiling water into the sink.
“No, uh…” I scramble for words. She looks out the window as if she will see what caught my attention, but he is long gone. “Sorry, I was in a fog for a moment there.”
“Are you okay?” Cedar asks from her spot on the lounge.
“Yes, most definitely,” I say, carefully dunking the cups in the hot water to wash them as Hazel gives me a pointed glance. I just nod in assurance as she walks back to where Cedar is sitting.
“What were we talking about?” I ask.
“The new blacksmith,” Cedar says, folding her legs up into a cozy position. “Apparently he’s young. Unlike old Mr. Smithson…”
Their conversation fades away as I look out that window once again, but all I see is a small rabbit bouncing through the clearing before he disappears into the tall grass, leaving it empty once more.