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Myla flung one leg over her windowsill, set her toe carefully between the cabbages, and dropped down into the vegetable garden. The moon rode high, so she'd have hours to search. She slipped toward the postern gate, amazed at every step by how freely her legs moved in trousers. She'd debated whether to wear them tonight and finally decided they were much more practical for crawling through undergrowth searching for plants. No one was going to see her anyway. At least she hoped not. She'd made herself look fool enough already. Besides, if Kaven could choose his own clothes, so could she. She went out the gate, closing it behind her.
She set off east this time, where she'd been told the stream at the back of the orchard ran hard between higher banks. The night air slid cool and damp across her skin. It occurred to her that she was bolder in Isadia's house. Green Valley was so different from home, with the household organized around Isadia rather than Da. Myla could see now that Da was always angry, even when nothing had happened to upset him. Half the time she didn't believe he noticed she was there, but in his presence she always sensed some unnamed, unpredictable danger. Isadia wasn't like that at all. She ran a thriving manor, so it wasn't as if she had no cares, and she plainly missed her husband. But she seemed content with her life. Myla hadn't known a manor holder could be so serene.
The sound of running water came from ahead, and she emerged from the trees to find herself atop a steep bank. Moonlight broke into slivers on the stream. When she leaned over, she could see that as she had hoped, the water had undercut the bank in places. She sat on the damp grass to strip off her boots and stockings, then rolled her trouser legs up as far as she could. Looping the strap of her carry bag around her neck, she took a single step before she felt the itch between her shoulder blades. For a long moment, she held still, waiting for whatever animal watched her to wander away. Slowly, she turned, searching the undergrowth and finding nothing. Perhaps she'd been mistaken.
She slid down the bank, unable to suppress a yip of shock as the icy water rose halfway up her shins, lapping around the rolled up folds of trouser legs. Ah well. She and her clothes would both dry with no harm. She sloshed along, enjoying the squish of mud between her toes and scanning the hollow spaces under the banks but not finding what she needed. Her hope began to fail. Help me, Silvit, she prayed to the wildcat god that embodied all life in the forest. Give me insight and strength. The moon had slid halfway down the sky when she realized she'd come a fair distance from where she'd left her boots. Reluctantly, she started back, finally spotting the ruts in the mud where she'd slid down. She struggled up the bank, arriving wet and muddy to the knee. With some dismay, she thought of the washing she'd have to do. She couldn't just toss these trousers in the laundry for someone else to clean because they weren't what Isadia had given her to wear.
She was rubbing her bare feet in the grass, trying to clean them before she had to put her stockings on, when something quivered on the night air, and the crickets and tree frogs fell silent. She straightened, searching the darkness a second time. This time a pair of yellow eyes gleamed back at her. Knees trembling, she backed slowly away, never taking her gaze from the eyes. A low growl rasped through the night.
Movement flickered on the edge of her vision. She recognized Kaven in time to choke back a scream. He had his bow in hand, an arrow on the string. "Get up in that tree," he said with seeming calm. "Move slowly."
She glanced at the tree, and her heart sped up so she felt like she was choking. "I can't," she managed.
"See the low branch?" He moved closer, nudging her in the right direction.
"I'm afraid of heights," she managed. Terror took up most of her mind, but there was a tiny space where she was horrified that she was humiliating herself in front of this boy.
He gave a choked laugh. "That's a wildcat which is, for some reason, ticked off." He crowded closer. "Go!"
The yellow eyes moved as if the cat were tilting its head from side to side.
"This way," she forced out and leaped off the bank into the water. A moment later, Kaven splashed in behind her, holding his bow high to keep it dry. She waded to one side and slid into the hollow under the bank. Kaven crouched and squeezed in beside her, close enough that he could probably hear her heart pounding. "This is better," she babbled. "Cats can climb."
He twisted his bow in his oversized hands. "True." He shifted and wound up pressed even more tightly against her. To her annoyance, she had to admit his solid warmth was reassuring.
She strained her ears, but heard nothing overhead. "Maybe it's gone," she whispered.
They both ducked out of the hollow and stretched to peek over the top of the bank. The cat stood looking around, at least two yards long and all muscle. Its golden eyes met hers. For a moment, her fear gave way to awe at this wild creature.
She heard Kaven's breath catch. "You have to admit it's beautiful," he said.
The cat lowered its head to sniff at the grass until it found Myla's boots. It picked one up, flopped down, and began chewing at the leather. The cat glanced at them, and they both dropped down to sit in the mud under the bank again. Kaven let out a shaky breath, so maybe he wasn't as calm as he pretended.
As she listened to the sound of her boot being shredded, she tried to make sense of the last few moments. "How did you come to be here anyway?" Her earlier feeling of being watched came back to her. She stiffened and turned to glare at him. "Were you following me?"
Even in the dark, she saw his face flush. "Sort of."
"What does that mean?"
"I couldn't sleep--"
"Feeling guilty for spying on me?"
His hand opened and closed around the bow. "I went for a walk--"
"With your bow?"
"I saw you leave, so I went after you to be sure you were all right. The forest isn't completely safe at night." He waved his hand toward where the sound of enthusiastic chewing filled the air.
"No, it's not," she snapped. "All kinds of animals sneak up on you."
He set his jaw. "Luckily, as it happens."
"Well, true." She rose to peek at the cat, who looked at her with her bootlace dangling from its teeth. She caught a whiff of the feral, musky scent.
"Is it the cat that smells like that?" Kaven surprised her by asking. "That makes no sense. I've smelled that all day."
"Me, too." They exchanged a look.
"Maybe it's one of Silvit's creatures," he murmured. "It would make sense for the cat to bless Isadia's manor. She treats her land well."
Myla heard the slight emphasis on she and wondered what lay behind it. She fingered the strap of her carry bag. "Silvit's creature or not," she said slowly, "it's still a cat. Maybe it wants a treat."
"Something other than your boot?"
She dug in her bag and pulled out the catnip. She wadded it into a ball, then made to slip out of hiding, but Kaven said, "Let me." She frowned at him. "I'm taller," he said. She surrendered the herb to him, and he rose. She leaned out to watch him hurl the ball onto the bank before he ducked back down.
They sat, pressed together, and she smelled again his scent of leather and fresh sweat. Something inside her twinged.
The sound of chewing stopped. Even over the noise of the stream, she heard the cat sniffing, followed by rustling and a cat moan. With difficulty she forced herself to wait until the noise stopped. Finally, cautiously, they peered over the bank. The herb was scattered across the clearing along with bits of her boot. The cat was gone.
"Let's go." Kaven climbed up, and as he drew her up after him, she stumbled against him.
"Sorry," they said as one and jumped apart.
She wiped her feet on the grass and pulled on one stocking and her remaining boot, tucking the other stocking in her bag. Better to go barefoot than rip it to shreds. She unrolled her trouser legs. Kaven was wet too but he seemed unworried. "I suppose we'd better get back," Myla said. "I don't want Isadia to throw me out."
"Me either." Kaven smiled a little uncertainl
y, and Myla surprised herself by smiling back. "But we should take a little detour. I found that plant you were looking for today."
"What?" She whirled to face him. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I just saw it after supper. I went out to take one more look, and when I got back to the house, you'd already gone to your room."
At the thought that he'd gone looking for the plant because she wanted it, she felt an unexpected softening in her chest. "It was kind of you to do that. I owe you."
He frowned down at his feet. "No. You don't." He turned and started toward home, leading her limping back the way she'd come.
At the moment he veered off, she felt an odd, pulling sensation, like someone was reeling her in on a string. Then she and Kaven emerged from the dark into a clearing, and she stumbled to a halt. A house-sized mound of earth rose before her. Even in the moonlight, the moss covering it glowed, and she recognized a Forest burial mound. "Green Valley's?" she asked.
"Yes. We're not far from Isadia's front gate. The plant is by the tomb door."
She followed him to the tomb's north side where a stone door stood with an image of Silvit carved at the top of the frame. The door was closed, of course. Tombs were supposed to open only to those bearing the blood of the manor they belonged to, and not always then. There'd been so much intermarriage between manors that most families had lost the ability to enter even their own tomb.
"There." Kaven pointed and Myla crouched to see night ripple. A delicate, blue scent rose in a cloud around it. She wasted no time harvesting a fist full.
"Thank the Forest," she said as she rose, "and also you."
His mouth quirked in a half smile. "You're welcome." He studied the door. "Have you ever been inside a tomb?"
"No," she said carefully.
"Me either." After a moment, he murmured, "That would certainly solve some problems though."
She waited to see if he'd say more, flexing her fingers around the strap of her carry bag and feeling again the way that other tomb door had trembled under her palms before it slid open. Should she tell him?
He shook himself and gestured to the far side of the tomb. "The lane is that way."
She'd keep her secret, she decided, for now anyway. Side by side but not touching, they walked into the dark.
If you want to read more about Myla and Kaven and the secrets each is keeping, their story is in Deep as a Tomb (Loose Leaves Publishing, 2016):
Sixteen-year-old Myla feels the land in her blood and bones. Royal heir Beran wants revenge for murder. Forest native Kaven wants to protect Myla from every danger.
Thrown together as fosterlings in the same household, each must decide just how far they're willing to use personal and political power to get what they want.
Praise for Deep as a Tomb:
"Winsor is a meticulous writer who expertly balances intelligence and delight."
--Saladin Ahmed, author of Throne of the Crescent Moon. Finalist for the Hugo, Nebula, Crawford, Gemmell, and British Fantasy Awards
"This story is all heart. Dorothy Winsor's Deep as a Tomb is a poignant coming of age adventure that explores the bonds of friendship, the demands of family, and the responsibilities of heritage and community. I couldn't stop reading!"
--Amy Bai, author of YA fantasy, Sword.
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