3. House of Flowers

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In which Grandma Luna finds a cottage in a forest of flowers.

In which Grandma Luna finds a cottage in a forest of flowers

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Up in the room above the inn, a small fire crackled in the grate, casting a warm orange glow on the walls

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Up in the room above the inn, a small fire crackled in the grate, casting a warm orange glow on the walls. Alvar was fast asleep on the bed, blankets drawn up to his chin. His stick-sword lay on the side table, dusty boots on the floor.

On the loft balcony, Ruth sat with Luna for a long time. For about an hour or so, neither said a word.

Then, slowly, with an effort, Luna began. She told her friend all that had happened back at home in Eastmoor.

Ruth looked terrified as she listened, unable to muster even a word of consolation, tears forming in her wide eyes and streaming down her cheeks--yet Luna felt nothing, as though she were merely narrating the tale of some other, unfortunate soul. The past few days out in the wilderness had shifted her focus entirely on ensuring the boy's survival and put leagues of distance between the tragedy and herself. Grief seemed a grey, faraway thing cloaked in fog.

"Ruth," she said at last, "promise you'll look after Alvar for me."

"For you?" She looked most bewildered. "Why do you say it like that? You going off somewhere?"

A long silence followed.

"I don't know," said Luna. "I didn't think I'd make it this far. Now I don't know what to do."

"You can't possibly go back to Eastmoor. There's nothing left!"

Luna thought of her garden withering, the books in the shelves lying beneath dust and cobwebs. She could go back and nurse her plants back to life and sweep the floors and make a warm meal with vegetables from the garden. She could finish sewing the pattern of rowans on the tablecloth and spread it over the kitchen table. But Ruth was right.

There's nothing left.

No matter how much she made the house livable, no one was ever going to come back there. Perhaps her daughter Elena would return, but there was no news from her for months, and her hope was running thin.

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