6
“Deliver this to the Gallows’. Inform them of our sorrow for their news,” she says before turning and leaving the room.
“Isa,” I whisper, reaching for the tin. “I can do it. I should do it.”
“I guess mother wants me to take these,” she mutters spitefully beneath her voice, her eyes glassy and shoulders slumped.
“At least let me come with you,” I urge, sadness beginning to catch in my chest.
But she’s already pulling on her boots, stepping through the screen door and marching across the yard toward the forest.
I tear after her, my lungs burning with dry summer air, sweat prickling my brow. She’s quick on her heels, dodging branches, stepping over rocks and roots like it’s second nature until she slows suddenly, eyes cast ahead.
“Isa?” I ask as she stops, wiping her eyes, straightening her pinafore. “What’s wrong?”
She turns to me for the briefest moment, before cursing beneath her breath. It startles me, the strength of the word slipping from her lips with such ease.
Footsteps sound ahead of us, drawing my attention away from my sister. On the rubble path beyond a fallen gum tree, he approaches. Bow thrown over his broad shoulder, arrow tails whispering into his ear.
His swagger effortless as the sun illuminates his face, smile enigmatic when he sees us. My heart kicks beneath my ribs, his stride making something unwanted smoulder deep within my stomach.
“Isabel Rhodes,” he says warmly, stopping when he reaches earshot. “What brings you out to the woods?”
Isabel shifts on her feet, a nervous energy beginning to overcome her. She twists the ribbon from the tin between her fingers, watching it intently.
“Cole,” I say, awkwardly bowing in greeting. But his eyes are fixed on her, my younger sister, not yet a woman.
“Good afternoon, Cole,” Isabel says, her cheeks flushing pink.
“And a fine afternoon it is, is it not?” he coos, oily and slick.
Rot and damp earth cloud my senses, the smell so thick in my nose that my breath becomes shallow. The ground beneath me feels unsteady, shifting and moving with each pulse of my blood.
“The finest. However, we have somewhere to be,” I say, nausea beginning to rise through me again. I grip Isabel’s elbow, my fingers pressing against the soft fibre of her blouse sleeves. She flinches, glancing toward my hand before returning her sights to Cole’s steady gaze.
“A beautiful afternoon,” she agrees, an unfamiliar lilt in her voice. “I’m just taking these cookies to Francesca’s parents. Our condolences, you see,” she says softly, eyes fixed on the weapon strapped to his back.
“Ah yes. Young Francesca’s body was found in the forest, correct?”
Isa nods solemnly, her shoulders slumping again. Quietly, I stand aside, observing this peculiar interaction, breathing through the tightness in my chest.
“Such a shame,” he tsks, turning to the expanse of trees beside them, as though talking to the wind. He sighs, a heavy sound that echoes for a moment before he turns back to us. “Young women should never be in the forest alone; you never know who could be lurking in the shadows.”
Isabel nods, agreeing, but purses her lips – the spitting image of our mother for the smallest moment. “I’m perfectly capable of finding my way. My sister and I grew up in these trees.”
“Of course. I didn’t mean anything by that. I would just hate to see something happen to a beautiful young woman such as yourself,” he says, smile twisting into something predatory and disconcerting.
“Thank you Cole. I’ll be sure to keep an eye out of any men who may wish to cause me harm,” she says, pushing past him.
He stands for a moment, his smile faltering before he continues along the path, adjusting the bow across his shoulder as he steps through the scrubby weeds.
“What was that about?” I ask, rushing back to Isa’s side.
“What an asshole,” she seethes, clutching the fabric of her dress as she draws heaving breaths.
“Are you okay?”
There’s something I’ve missed. A piece of the puzzle I can’t fit into place.
She shakes her body, her shoulders and fingertips, dispelling the anger as she draws a grounding breath.
“I– I just have to finish this,” she whispers, gripping the cookie tin to her chest and stepping forward again.
There’s something fierce about her now, the way she steadies her eyes ahead, knuckles whitening beneath her grip.
The way she forges ahead without concern of keeping within my line of sight.
As though I fell asleep one evening, and awoke to a whole new person.
An adult version of the small sister I once knew.
The passing of her childhood into womanhood, gone in the blink of an eye.
No longer is the young Isabel standing ahead of me. Instead, now, she is grown. And she is fire.