Thrice Sworn: A Short-Story Prequel to Winterling Read Online Free PDF Page A

have mouse-ear-sized leaves budding out, and the bees would be stirring. Spring tingled just under her skin, waiting to burst out. But now everything was waiting. It was just this chilly in-between time. Mud time.
    Fer shivered and put her hands into the pockets of her patchwork jacket. In the left pocket, she had two twigs and a smooth stone she’d found in a creek that afternoon. In the right pocket, a little cloth bag of herbs, loosestrife and lavender, mugwort and harewort, a protective spell that her grandma made her carry with her always. Protection against what, she didn’t know, and she didn’t bother asking anymore. Grand-Jane’s answer was always the same—a dark, silencing look.
    Fer sniffed the air. The crisp smell of toasted noodles and onions; Grand-Jane had cooked a tofu casserole for dinner.
    Mmm, dinner. Fer’s stomach growled. She huddled into her patchwork jacket and shivered. She was awfully late. It would be even worse if the principal had called. Fer didn’t mean to get into fights at school, but sometimes they just happened and there didn’t seem to be anything she could do about it.
    When she went in the door, Grand-Jane was going to have a conniption. A really hairy one.
    Oh well, might as well get it over with. Fer went up the steps and into the kitchen.
    At the sound of the door closing, her grandma, at the stove, turned and glared. Carefully she set down a covered casserole dish. “What time is it.”
    It wasn’t a question. Grand-Jane knew what time it was. Fer glanced at the clock that hung on the wall beside the fridge. “Seven thirty-five?”
    “Oh, for crying out loud,” Grand-Jane muttered. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
    Fer hunched her shoulders, ready for the shouting.
    Grand-Jane released her breath and opened her eyes. “We have been through this, Jennifer,” she said sharply. “It is not safe for you to be outside alone. You must come home immediately after school.”
    “I can’t,” Fer said, staying by the door.
    “Yes, you can,” Grand-Jane said.
    No, she couldn’t, not after being cooped up all winter. House, bus, school, bus, house. The same thing every single day, except on the weekends when it was just house, house, house, because she and her grandma never went anywhere . She had to get out under the sky or she got so twitchy, she felt like she might twitch out of her own skin.
    Grand-Jane looked her over with sharp blue eyes. “And your school’s principal called. Apparently you had a run-in with that Torvald boy again.”
    Not just Jimmy Torvald, but his brother Richie and their stupid friend Emily Bradley. Jenny Fur-head they called her. What was she supposed to do? Let them call her that? Her hair did come out of its braid and it did get messy, and sometimes it did get twigs tangled in it, but that was no reason for them to be so mean all the time.
    “Well, Miss Sullen, tomorrow’s Saturday,” Grand-Jane said. “You’ll spend it with me cleaning the stillroom.” She turned to the stove, put her oven mitts back on, and carried the casserole dish to the red-painted kitchen table. “Take off your coat,” she said, her back to Fer. “And come eat your dinner.”
    Fer started to unbutton her patchwork jacket, then paused. All day tomorrow cleaning the stillroom? That meant dusting shelves, sweeping out spider webs, sorting through hundreds of tincture jars and bags of crumbling herbs, and more lessons on herbology and healing spells. And Grand-Jane’s sharp eyes watching her the whole time, as if Fer were about to burst into flames and her grandma had to be there, just in case, to dump cold water on her.
    Grand-Jane’s warm, red-and-yellow kitchen closed around her. Fer felt like a bird bashing itself against the walls of a box.
    Quick as thought, before Grand-Jane could turn around, Fer opened the door and flung herself back out into the night.
     
    She’d never been out this late before. The world felt different under the