Page 9

T he second night at Eilith’s, I had a vivid dream.

I was walking through rings of ancient, weather-worn standing stones, arranged in two circles, one within the other.

The inner ring was shorter, most stones coming up only to my knees or waist. These were surrounded by an outer circle of much taller, wider stones, dug into the ground and standing on their narrower sides, reaching high above me. Their tops were shrouded in fog.

I moved through them, drawn toward something, although I did not know what.

I reached the center and paced a lap around the inner circle, searching.

Yet it wasn’t my own human feet I walked with.

When I looked down, I saw the great paws of a wolf.

As I paced, trickles of viscous red liquid oozed from the stones around me, running down the faces of the rocks.

More and more rivulets of deep red sprang from the stones, flowing faster until the ground was soaked and my paws were stained dark red, almost black in the low light.

There was something there I needed to find, something I needed to see, but it was hidden.

I began digging into the blood-soaked mud but could not find what I was looking for.

Faster, more frantically I dug, but all I found was more blood pooling thick around my paws.

I awoke suddenly, soaked in sweat, my head pounding.

I made my way to the stable and was relieved to see Anam had drunk a large bucket of water. He still hadn’t eaten, but his wounds did not seem to have worsened overnight.

“How are you feeling this morning?” Eilith called from the milking stand where she sat milking one of her goats, whose head was wedged obediently between two adjustable planks, chewing oats contentedly.

“My head still hurts, but much better than yesterday, thanks to you and Byrgir,” I said.

“Glad to hear it. Here, help me get this cleaned up.”

She released the goat and ushered her outside, then carried over a bucket of hot water that was already waiting in the stable.

I held Anam’s head while Eilith peeled off his bandage and washed his wound.

Black, coagulated chunks of blood and necrotic filth came off on the clean rag.

She smeared a generous amount of the salve over the gashes.

“It’s looking better,” she said. “I think we’ll leave the bandage off now. It’s healing up well on its own. As long as he starts eating and maintains his energy, he’ll probably beat this necrosis.”

I exhaled a long breath of relief at her words. “Thank you for helping him. When he’s healed enough to walk, we’ll be on our way.”

“Nonsense.” Eilith waved a dismissive hand at me. “You’ll stay as long as you need to. No sense in running back out into those woods just to get gutted by a ghoul that smelled your horse’s wound. No, you’ll stay as long as you need, however long that may be.

"But, if you do choose to stay, there are rules. Firstly, you are to respect all living creatures here and treat them with dignity, including myself. Secondly, you are to respect my steading and my systems, and follow instructions. And thirdly, you are to send a letter to any family members you may have to inform them that you’re safe and healthy.

Where you came from and where you are headed are none of my business, but if you do have a mother out there worrying about you, I insist you put her mind at ease before you spend another day here.

Do you understand?” Her words were direct, but her tone was not unfriendly.

“Yes, Eilith. I understand.”

“Good. Come now, I’ll show you around.”

Eilith led me about the steading, most of it covered and winterized for the season.

Not much was visible beneath the snow, except for a spring that bubbled from the earth and ran in a small, clear creek.

Where the groundwater surfaced and for fifteen or so paces downstream, it was still free of ice.

Eventually the creek entered a small gully that led off in the direction of the river I had crossed the day I arrived.

Not far from the spring were the gardens, which were irrigated with spring water carried through pipes and ditches.

She showed me the chicken coop, the cold storage, and another tool and supply storage shed.

Everything was tidy, everything had its place.

It would have been a lot to maintain on one’s own, even though it was small.

I wondered if she had always been here alone, or if she was widowed, but I did not ask.

That evening after dinner I wrote a letter to my mother.

I did not tell her exactly where I was, just that I had found a place near Skeioholm with a kind woman and was earning my keep on her steading.

I told her not to worry, that I was healthy and safe.

I did not mention the nuckelavee or my injury, nor when I might return.

I had no intention of returning. Not for a long time.

∞∞∞

The first week at Eilith’s passed in a groggy blur.

I slept ten hours a night, and sometimes napped during the day.

I felt useless with my lack of energy, like a bad house guest, in those early weeks.

Yet even though I was weak, foggy, and stupid most of the time, Eilith was determined that I would earn my keep and her healing services in what small ways I could.

The first thing she taught me was the recipe for the tincture that I was taking three times a day.

I had burned through the last stores of it in the first few days, and as it was winter, all the ingredients needed were already cut and dried from the previous season.

The main ingredient was lion’s mane mushroom, which was combined with roasted chaga fungus, St. John’s wort, sage, and rosemary.

Eilith showed me the amount to weigh of each, although she had to remind me every time I made it because my injured brain could not retain the information.

We then combined it with strong distilled grain alcohol.

Next, she taught me how to make the salve she had been spreading on Anam’s wounds.

This one was easier, and consisted of mostly dried yarrow with calendula flower and honey.

I was surprised by how much honey was used, but Eilith explained that she kept the bees herself, and they always provided enough.

I discovered she had not been exaggerating on my first trip to the cold storage.

The hillock it was in was not a natural hill, but an old earthen dwelling left behind by people long passed.

Flat limestone plates had been stacked and fit snugly together to frame the doorways and make the outer wall, with a dome of earth capping the top.

The doors faced south, away from the cold north winds, and the structure curved into a semi-circle.

It would have made a cozy communal living space, with a flat area for a fire pit in front.

I ducked through the squat doorway and stepped down into the dark.

The ancient dwelling turned cold storage was filled with earthenware jugs and glass jars of all sizes: Jars and pots of honey, jams, and preserved fruit; jerky; dried fish; and barrels of salted meats.

My concern over eating all of her winter stores eased as I surveyed the shelves for what I needed.

There was enough here for us both for two winters at least.

After a few days of rest and heavy applications of Eilith’s healing salve, Anam’s wound began to heal.

He started to eat again, much to my relief, and his vitality slowly returned.

I took him for gentle walks around the steading as his energy increased.

He was a bit stiff in the hind legs, but walked without too much effort.

As both Anam and I recovered from our injuries, I fell into a routine. In the mornings I would work around the steading, helping Eilith with chores and preparing any medicaments she deigned to teach me. In the afternoon, I’d take Anam on a short walk before making dinner.

Eilith was a peculiar woman. Kind, knowledgeable, and particular, but with eccentricities I did not immediately understand.

Sometimes I would see her crouched in the snow, a pail of oats or fresh goat milk beside her, as if she had just stopped while walking between chores.

She’d stay there, eyes closed, bare hands plunged into the snow.

Then she’d stand, brush her hands off on her coat, and go on with her day.

She was organized and strict in her systems, a quality that made me feel inept at first but which I learned to appreciate.

If things weren’t done a certain way––her way––she would either redo them herself or, more often, tell me to do them again, with no extra words of reassurance to spare my feelings.

Some days it annoyed me greatly, especially in the early weeks of our friendship.

I took her corrections as personal admonishments.

Usually though, I would complete a task her way and see there was a purpose behind her instruction, whether that purpose was efficiency, organization, or something I could not identify immediately.

Sometimes, the deeper purpose was simply to benefit me, even if it was not clear right away.

These lessons were always the most annoying.

Early in my days of learning her recipes, Eilith walked me through the steps patiently, reminding me over and over when I forgot the amounts and ingredients. She saw my frustration with my slow, muddled thoughts as my brain recovered.

But, after some time, she quit helping me.

She’d bark a list of tasks from across the room and leave, expecting to come back and find them done.

Then she’d scold me if I’d done them wrong or forgotten a task she’d asked me to complete.

Several times, I cried with frustration at my own inadequacy, my own helplessness.