Birds sang, pouring joy into air that was fragrant with flowers. She could see foxglove dancing lightly in the breeze. For a moment she felt the earth beneath her sigh and whisper with the pleasure of a new day.
Grief would come and go, she knew. But today there was light, and work. And there was still magic in the world.
When a shadow fell over her, she turned her head, smiled at Moira.
“How are you this morning?”
“Better,” Glenna told her. “I’m better. Sore and stiff, maybe a little wobbly yet, but better.”
She turned a bit more to study Moira’s tunic and rough pants. “We need to get you some clothes.”
“These do well enough.”
“Maybe we’ll go into town, see what we can find.”
“I have nothing to trade. I can’t pay.”
“That’s what Visa’s for. It’ll be my treat.” She lay flat, closed her eyes again. “I didn’t think anyone else was up.”
“Larkin’s taken the horse for a run. It should do both of them good. I don’t think he slept at all.”
“I doubt any of us did, really. It doesn’t seem real does it, not in the light of day with the sun showering down and the birds singing?”
“It seems more real to me,” Moira said as she sat. “It shows what we have to lose. I have a stone,” she continued, brushing her hand through the grass. “I thought when Larkin comes back we could go to where the graves are, make one for King.”
Glenna kept her eyes closed, but reached out a hand for Moira’s. “You have a good heart,” she told her. “Yes, we’ll make a grave for King.”
Her injuries prevented her from training, but it didn’t stop Glenna from working. She spent the next two days preparing food, shopping for supplies, researching magic.
She took photographs.
More than busy work, she told herself. It was practical, and organizational. And the photos were—would be—a kind of documentation, a kind of tribute.
Most of all it helped keep her from feeling useless while the others worked up a sweat with swords and hand-to-hand.
She learned the roads, committing various routes to memory. Her driving skills were rusty, so she honed them, maneuvering the van on snaking roads, skimming the hedgerows on turns, zooming through roundabouts as her confidence built.
She pored through spell books, searching for offense and defense. For solutions. She couldn’t bring King back, but she would do everything in her power to safeguard those who were left.
Then she got the bright idea that every member of the team should be able to handle the van. She started with Hoyt.
She sat beside him as he drove the van at a creeping pace up and down the lane.
“There are better uses for my time.”
“That may be.” And at this rate, she thought, they’d be a millennium before he got over five miles an hour. “But every one of us should be able to take the wheel if necessary.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Do you plan to take this machine into battle?”
“Not with you at the wheel. Practicalities, Hoyt. I’m the only one who can drive during the day. If something happens to me—”
“Don’t. Don’t tempt the gods.” His hand closed over hers.
“We have to factor it. We’re here, and where we are is remote. We need transportation. And, well, driving gives all of us a kind of independence, as well as another skill. We should be prepared for anything.”