Page 9 of Twisting Twilight (Homesteader Hearth Witch #9)

“I think I have an idea.” Quickly, I removed my boots and socks and wiggled my toes into the rich, soft soil. Sucking in a deep breath to steady myself, I slid my magical perceptions into the ground.

It wasn’t quite the Scouting Spell—that magical ping that illuminated animals to my mind’s eye.

It wasn’t exactly the Seeking Spell either—that trace of magic back to its source.

It wasn’t my father’s Tracking Spell—no footsteps illuminated on the ground.

But an entire world came alive to my inner eye.

It was an opening of my magic to the world around me. My magic oak tree was a cord, and I’d just plugged it into a wall socket. Instead of electricity, I’d been granted firsthand access to Elfame itself.

Magic and life essence infused everything here, and the oak tree was eager to be a part of it. A sense of homecoming swept through me. Welcomed me.

Welcomed that spark of Violet that had traveled its way through her descendants to rest in me.

At my feet, my familiar gasped. “What did you do? I see, I see—” Words escaped him. They escaped me, too.

It was so beautiful, as if we saw everything through a bioluminescent lens.

The pulse of energy and life traced through every capillary of the nearby trees and foliage in twinkling blue and green lights, and the bats and nocturnal birds glowed fire-gold as they flitted after the smaller fire-gold specks of insects.

Their passage through the air created white glittering trails that eventually dissipated like cobwebs broken apart by the wind.

Unlike the creatures of these immortal lands, Sawyer blazed with amber radiance in my new sight.

And not one mallaithe in sight, thank you very much.

With my mind’s eye fully open to the wondrous life beneath Elfame’s surface, I followed Laoise without hesitation or fault.

My only problem was staying focused and not stopping to explore or stare open-mouthed at some new delight.

I was like a child again back at the manor, discovering a new-to-me species of butterfly or hummingbird when I should’ve been practicing making runner beans grow (as if they needed any help in that endeavor).

I was so in tune with the world around me that I sensed the approaching herd of red deer before Laoise had.

“Deer incoming,” I whispered.

Laoise stood stock-still, registering the truth of my statement a few seconds later. “How did you—? I said don’t talk!”

Smugness radiated from Sawyer that his witch had out-sensed a fae.

“Quickly,” the fae told. “This is their trail.”

“And what? They don’t like to share?” Sawyer asked.

“Shhh!”

The fae attendant grabbed my arm—not that I needed the guidance—and pulled me into a run. Ah. Yes. I wouldn’t be able to keep up without the Rabbit Step Spell.

“Ugh, why are you barefoot?” she demanded, though she didn’t stop for me to put on my socks and boots. In fact, I was surprised she wasn’t barefoot like me, but maybe she preferred the touch of water on her soles instead of soil.

“Hey! Wait for me,” Sawyer cried, already yards behind us even though he raced along with all his might. “I have little legs!”

At my command, a tree bent down and scooped up the tomcat in the fork of a branch and catapulted him through the air.

Sawyer yowled once in surprise, but this wasn’t his first time being airborne, nor was this the first time he’d been launched by a tree.

I caught him one-handed with a muted, “Oof,” and tucked him under my arm as Laoise pulled us along.

His claws dug deep into my ribs, his whole body tense as he fought to hold on.

We reached a clearing and had enough time to duck into the brush before the red deer came thundering by.

They were massive creatures, tall like the moose of my world rather than deer.

Their hooves pulverized the ground—no wonder it had been so soft under my bare feet.

Dozens if not a hundred individuals coursed down the trail, following the great stag at the herd’s head.

“Keep your head down,” Laoise whispered to me. “These are the high lord’s beasts. But they’ll erase any trace of our footsteps.”

From her tone, I was sure that was the exact reason why she’d chosen our trail through the forest. Releasing my connection with the earth, I studied Laoise with my normal vision.

Though it was still so very dark, I could make out the furrowed puckering in her brow as she watched the deer go by.

On her finger, the beam of light that had guided us so far shrank back into the jewel and glowed like a smoldering coal.

Presently the fae swallowed, as if steeling her resolve, and moved slowly out of our hiding spot. “We wait now. Do not speak. And put on your shoes.”

While the fae attendant stood like a statue, watching and listening, I set Sawyer down and joined him on the ground. A few hearty smacks of my hands against the soles of my feet dislodged the soil. As I wiggled first into my socks and then the boots, Sawyer explored the clearing.

“This is a crossroads of some sort,” he reported . “And I smell something.”

“Something bad or something good?”

“I don’t know. But I think we’re being watched. Use your sparkle vision so we can look over there.”

I snorted at the term sparkle vision but quickly sobered.

And not because of Laoise’s warning glare.

He could be sensing something dangerous we’d never encountered before.

Something worse than mallaithe, and I never wanted to tangle with those monsters again.

A juvenile had almost killed me, and I dreaded to think what an adult could do.

Especially one that had grown up and matured in a place as nutrient- and magic-dense as Elfame.

With an apprehensive shiver, I peered in the direction Sawyer had indicated.

Many night-prowling creatures illuminated in my mind’s eye, each fire-gold in color, and none of them acting in a way that rose the hair on the back of my neck.

If we were being watched by something, it was probably solely out of benign curiosity.

But what was even more curious was the presence of five twinkling threads of light weaving out of the forest from the way we had come.

Startling too, for they led straight into my chest. I wasn’t in pain, and my oak tree registered no threat, so I didn’t smack at my chest like I normally would have as if dislodging a stinging insect that had chosen to hitch a ride on my shirt.

The threads proved impervious to my fingers as I attempted to fiddle with them, content to twinkle to a rhythm all their own.

“Hey, aren’t those the colors of the Crafting Circle?” Sawyer said, bracing his front paws on my knee. He lifted one to bat at the amber thread that connected his heart to mine, his efforts having zero effect. “These look like the ones we saw on that hill in the Tussock woods.”

And the same on the bridge when I’d faced off against Ossian for hurting Flora.

Green for Flora; sky blue for Daphne; red for Shari.

My friends were coming.

And the fifth, a cobalt blue, wavered off into the night. It was the same blue as the fated mated bond Ossian had ripped out of Arthur’s chest and imprisoned in that cloch on his necklace.

But this thread was frayed, splintered, and my heart became a stone in my throat as fear took me.

Was the thread ragged because Arthur was more bear than man, or was h-he— My last memory of Ossian, the Stag Man appearing on the moonlit hill covered in blood, flittered across my mind like a bat. Whose blood was that?

Mewing softly, Sawyer rubbed against me. “Courage, Meadow.”

I swept him into my arms and buried my face into his soft fur.

A few minutes later, Orla emerged from the shadows leading Cody and Emmett.

The two men wore something akin to cowled friar frocks—perhaps the garb of the working class?

—with rope for belts to keep the homespun from flapping.

Well, at least to stop the frock from flapping around Cody’s twiggy waist. Emmett’s potbelly rendered his rope belt moot for anything other than a fashion accessory.

The compass light of the blue ring on Orla’s finger, identical to Laoise’s, sucked back into the cabochon the moment she stepped onto the crossroads.

There, it continued to twinkle with the faintest of glows.

The brindle-skinned fae approached Laoise and gave her a light kiss on each cheek in greeting.

Apparently the two men had been given the same gag order as me, so Emmett only waved excitedly when his old eyes finally spied me through his spectacles.

Cody sniffed loudly and jerked his chin as he hiked up his rope belt—a series of gestures reminiscent of a baseball coach signing a change of strategy mid-play.

Succinctly, he was asking, Whaddya think of all this?

I replied with a soft sigh and a shrug. Just rolling with it for now. It was the best I could do. A quirk of my eyebrows asked, Are y’all alright?

The way Cody pursed his lips, removed his ball cap, ran a hand through his white hair, and settled the cap back in place told me in no uncertain terms he was going to give me an earful when allowed to do so.

For now, he tabled his tirade to guide Emmett onto a fallen log for a brief respite.

With a few muted pops of his joints, he sat down on the log beside his best friend.

I joined them, giving each a healing boost that had Emmett sighing with relief and Cody grunting in surprise.

Sawyer continued to prowl around the clearing, ears and whiskers twitching madly.

From experience, I knew not to disturb him when he was “on the hunt.” Whether it was simply a cricket or magical skink he was stalking, it was beyond rude to interrupt.