[This post is from J.T.’s point of view.]
Leinth watched his face for a few seconds, then spoke, her voice still quiet. “Something happened there.”
J.T. startled slightly, glancing toward her. “What?”
She motioned toward the garden, with its once-manicured hedges, broken benches and its fountain with Robin Goodfellow perched in the center. J.T. took a slow breath and nodded.
“Yeah. It—it’s a long story.” That was a lie—the story wasn’t that long, but he wasn’t sure he had the energy to tell it. He stared at the remains of the garden and sighed quietly. Had Carolyn’s faery friends returned there at all? He wasn’t sure he wanted to ask, wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Leinth squeezed his shoulder again.
“Are you all right?”
He smiled crookedly, nodding. “Yeah. Just morbid thoughts, that’s all. I’m fine.”
“Are you?” she asked, her voice gently probing. J.T. shook his head, still managing to smile.
“As most of us ever get, anyway,” he said, then turned, heading down the hill toward the barrow. “Just thinking, that’s all. Dangerous proposition around here.”
“True,” she admitted, then smiled herself, falling back into step with him. “Very, very true. This conversation is a prime example of that, I think.”
J.T. nodded in agreement. “Twisting paths and all that. It’s a tangle.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
A pale blue haze hung over the barrow, though J.T. was certain no one else would have seen it beyond a handful of their friends. He took a deep breath, exhaled it slowly. Something had stirred, though what it was, he didn’t know, couldn’t know—not yet.
“Do you see it?” he asked her softly, lips barely moving.
Leinth nodded. “Aye. I do.” She touched his arm gently. “I can go down alone.”
“No,” he said. “No, together. We go together.”
With a resolute stride, he walked down the hill, Leinth trailing half a step behind.
