Dreamwalker's Bride - Chapter 322

Chapter 322: Wooden toys
The next leg of the journey left Ford with a deep sense of regret. Mia seemed strangely hurt, and he couldn’t figure that out.

He was also afraid to try to talk to her, since he still wasn’t a hundred percent clear on what Seth might consider ‘pursuing.’ He should have gotten a lot more detail on what that meant before making the promise, but Seth had seemed so angry that Ford probably would have promised a lot just to get out of that conversation alive.

Mia was holding up, barely, though Ford could see more easily than the others how fatigue was setting in on her. Or maybe they noticed and chose to pretend they didn’t.

Ford tried to keep himself distracted by working on his whittling project, but reached an impasse when it came to the head and face of the carving. The detail needed was too great for him to proceed, so took to practicing on other bits of wood along the way.

The one he tried now was moderately better than previous efforts, but still not close to what he wanted. Thankfully, he’d collected a few pieces that didn’t get used for firewood and was able to toss the effort aside and begin on the next one without delay.

He might as well get good at something on the journey.

Every now and then his eyes drifted to the front of the group, where Mia’s slumping shoulders filled him with guilt.

The first night he’d stayed away from her, he’d sat at the other end of the campsite during his watch. Seth had woken intermittently to glare at him, clearly suspecting Ford would break the promise.

Mia’s whimpers through her nightmares had been difficult to bear.

The next day, Seth had advocated for resuming the use of tents, but that was overruled by the ongoing concern that mobility was more valuable than the small amount of shelter.

Ford didn’t really know what Seth thought that would accomplish anyway. Of course, it would be harder to sneak into a tent than simply move around to the other side of the fire to get to Mia, but how much harder, if he were really determined?

Maybe Seth just wanted to remove his daughter from Ford’s sight. That was… understandable, he supposed.

Each night since then, Ford had tried to avoid looking at her altogether. How long had they been in the forest now? He was beginning to lose track of the days as they blended together.

Ford’s next effort at drawing a face from a piece of wood wound up looking feminine, somehow. The delicate curve of the nose and the full lips…

He tossed that piece aside as well before Grandpa or anyone else could see.

“Not going well?” The old man asked casually.

“I think I’ll give up for a while,” Ford shrugged.

Grandpa looked over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t.”

“What? Why not?”

The old man raised one eyebrow. “I think your creations are being appreciated. You notice how they disappear?”

Ford turned in his saddle and looked back on the forest floor for the discarded carving. He couldn’t see it anywhere.

“Surprised you didn’t notice before,” Grandpa observed. “What with those things taking an interest in your work.”

Ford felt a little silly for forgetting how the changers–wights–whatever was out there–had reacted to his carving.

“So I should make… more?” He asked, a little bewildered. Would they like him better?

“When was the first time you threw one away?” Grandpa asked curiously.

Ford had to think about that for a moment. “Right after the red flowers.”

A dozen possibilities rattled through his mind with the realization. “Do you think they’re keeping the forest safe for us? Because I’ve been discarding wood carvings that I didn’t think were good enough?”

“It’s one possibility,” Grandpa allowed. “I was wondering why it was so dangerous at first and not now. I thought perhaps there was some sort of gatekeeping, an area designed to scare intruders away, but… now, I think we’ve been in this forest longer than Mia expected, and I can’t be sure what that means.”

Ford mulled over the theory, and Grandpa held out his hand. “Mind passing me a piece?”

The younger man fished out a chunk of wood and handed it to the elder.

“Shouldn’t one of us be looking around?” Ford asked as Grandpa pulled out his own whittling knife.

“Not if my thoughts on the matter are accurate,” The elder began to whistle as he worked, drawing the attention of first Anaisa and Daniel, and eventually Seth. The man said something quietly to Mia before pulling his horse to the side and hanging back.

“What’s the trouble back here?” He asked his father with an edge in his voice.

“Since when is whistling a tune an indication of trouble?” Grandpa waggled his eyebrows and tossed his carving over his shoulder as the horses continued plodding along. Ford frowned and handed another piece of wood into the man’s outstretched palm.

“Should I even ask what that’s about?” Seth glanced backward. “Or have you finally lost it?”

“I haven’t lost anything, so far as I know. Is it still there?” Grandpa asked idly.

“Is what still–your little toy?” Seth turned around. “Why wouldn’t it–”

His voice cut off, and his head snapped back forward. “We’re being followed?”

The question was filled with steel and anxiety. Ford could practically see the wheels in the man’s head working out the implications of danger being right on their heels.

“Have been for days, I suspect,” Grandpa nodded.

“By what? What do we do?” Seth’s eyes darted in all directions. Ford looked down at the carving in his hand, trying not to cut himself as he worked with his horse’s gait. “…What are you two doing?”

“I just do as I’m told,” Ford said, perhaps a little too pointedly. He kept his eyes down on his whittling but could hear Seth’s sigh.

“That’s not a helpful answer. Grandpa? Care to enlighten me on the workings of this either exceedingly clever plan or your descent into dementia?”

Ford snuck a look at Grandpa, who showed barely a reaction to the words.

“Do you actually want to know my theory or just take out your impatience on your old dad?”