The Hunt of the Grimalkin (Erresuma Book 1) by Dani Swanson (books to read romance TXT) 📗

a bundle for her to attach to her bag. She put on her cloak with the silver sparrow and said her good-byes, as she started back towards the main path again. She was leaving with more questions than she had answers. The more she tried to remember, the more her head hurt. Fig trotted behind her. He seemed happy to be away from the fairy circle.

They walked down the path towards where they saw the smoke. The day got warmer as the sun rose higher in the sky. The trees started to thin the farther they walked. They stopped for lunch at the edge of the trees, that opened to a large pasture. There were a few deer cautiously walking through the long grass, and some wild horses playing in the sun.

She saw what appeared to be a small farm, or at least what was left of one. The buildings all had peeling paint and faded shutters. The fences were broken down in some places, which seemed fine since there didn’t look to be any animals around. Someone was living there though, she could see the light grey smoke spiral up into the sky. “What do you think, Fig?” she asked the orange cat. He sat on the edge of a log and had his head tilted to the side. He was eating a bit of pickled fish that Willow had sent with them.

“Meow,” He answered as he licked his paw and then rubbed his chubby cheeks.

“Oh you think so?” she said jokingly. “I guess we’d better go check it out.”

Before they started she pulled a brush out of her bag and ran it through her hair, and checking her face in her small hand mirror. She wanted to make sure she was presentable for whomever she was to meet. She had lost track of how many days she’d been gone from the cabin, but felt that it was starting to show in her appearance. She really wanted to sleep in a bed.

They walked across the field; Fig playing with a couple of toads hopping through the grass while she was watching her step to not twist her ankle on a rock. As they neared the broken down fence, she could smell bread baking. The gate opened with a loud squeak and then crashed shut with a bang. “Well we won’t be sneaking up on them,” she said in a whisper. She walked up to the run down little farm house and with a deep breath and knocked on the door three times. She could hear movement inside.

A deep voice from inside replied, “Just a minute!” A few moments later she heard the bolt being released on the door and out poked the nose of a little old man. He barely came up to her ribs in height, and had a long, grizzly beard that dragged on the floor. He had kind eyes that smiled behind his little square glasses. He grinned and showed his gapped-tooth mouth to her. “Why, hello there! I haven’t seen you in ages!” he said cheerfully.

She felt a surge of relief take over her body. The pounding in her chest had subsided. “You remember who I am?!” she exclaimed to the little man.

He looked startled at her excitement. “I was talking to him,” he said in his deep voice, gesturing to Fig.

“Meow,” said the little cat as he rubbed up on the man’s legs in a greeting. Fig walked past the man’s legs and plopped down at the fire.

“Now, who are you, miss?” he directed back to the girl. She felt her face turning red as she looked back at the little man.

“That’s a very good question,” she replied.

The little man listened to her story, and after some time, finally invited her into the house. He fixed her a plate of the homemade bread and some cheese. She offered him some of the dried meat that she had gotten from Willow. She learned that his name was Flynn, and he had lived there at the farm his entire life. As the girl took a bite of the bread, she remembered the sweet taste of cardamom that was dancing on her tongue. The pain in her head started to throb again as she attempted to evoke the memories attached to the taste.

“I do recognize you,” Flynn said between bites. “You go to the market on Tuesdays. I remember you saved that guy who fell off his horse. He was hurt pretty bad, but you gave him something out of your bag there and he walked away as if nothing had happened. That was the last time I remember seeing you. I think that was a few months ago,” he said to her. “But this little guy still goes to the market on Tuesdays, even though you haven’t been there.” He scratched under the sleepy kitty’s chin. Fig opened his eyes when Flynn stopped scratching him and meowed as if in protest.

“Can you tell me anything else about me?” she asked Flynn, in a small unsure voice. He rocked back and forth on the back legs of his chair, while he nibbled on a little piece of bread. “Well, I know that you have sold a lot of different things at the market. You have a stall there. You sell medicine and art stuff for people’s houses. I saw you weaving a blanket one time with my wife, Eleonore. She should be back in the morning if you want to meet her. Maybe she knows more about you. I really just know that you buy my bread each week.”

She smiled big at Flynn, with the potential of meeting someone who knows who she could be.

“If you come back tomorrow I’m sure she would love to talk to you.” He finished his thought and planted the chair back on the ground.

“Oh,” she murmured disappointedly. “It took me a few days