Page 192 of The Knucker King

His tail swished excitedly, he just wanted Avice to be happy. So, if that is what made her happy, he would move paradise and Albion to make it happen.

“And you will have to explain more than that,” Trewoofe prompted.

“Things are different now,” she continued. “The villagers can come to fetch me from Knucker Hill if they need my services without fear of punishment from the church. If the seed becomes a Spriggan Queen, she may well draw the males to her. I feel it would be… well, insensitive to have them where the mothers who lost their children may see them.”

Trewoofe immediately understood. “I suppose your garden is also disqualified for this reason.”

“Exactly,” Avice agreed. “I also have plans for my cottage and garden.”

“My, my,” he teased. “You have been plotting. What are your plans?”

“Hati and Nell both want to learn my witching. So, we will have lessons there. I may even hold a monthly clinic for villagers and Good Neighbours to visit with their ailments,” she explained. “My home is the Underneath, and our nest.” Trewoofe chuffed happily at her words. “But I am glad I can walk in both worlds without fear.”

They hiked for some time through the woods. Neither of them was sure of where they were going. Trewoofe knew that Avice was trying to spot somewhere safe and secluded for them to plant the seed. It was then, an idea struck him of where it could go.

“I know where we can take the Spriggan’s seed.” He curled his neck and looked down at a damp Avice under his chest. “Safe, secluded, and far from the village.”

She peeked out from beneath her hood. “Lead the way.”

Gentle grief dogged his steps as his paws squelched in the mud. Trewoofe – still sheltering Avice beneath his chest – entered the glade where his family had been slaughtered. While that ache was still there, and always would be, his soul-bound’s presence was a soothing salve. That just by being there, she eased the itching scars over his heart.

Avice rooted to the spot. “My Lord, are you sure?”

“I think…” He peered down his muzzle at her. “…the bones of Lindana and my daughters would look after the Spriggan’s seed.”

She pulled back her sopping hood and met his eye. “This is a great kindness.” She stepped from under him and squinted through the misty grey. “Is there a spot you had in mind?”

“Up the knoll.” He pointed with his snout. “The Sun touches the soil the most there.” He stepped over Avice again, once more sheltering her beneath him. “At least, when the Sun is out.”

She walked with him up the steady slope. Trewoofe hoped it did not exhaust his little witch too much. She hiked most of the day, tucked beneath his chest to shelter her from the pelting rain.

Typical Albion weather.

The constant shower begun to seep through his scales, and the light was rapidly dimming. One way or another, they had been on their feet from Sunrise to Sunset, and even he was beginning to feel the ache of the long day.

“Here?” Avice asked, pointing to a flat, grassy spot.

“It will do,” Trewoofe agreed with a dip of his head.

He dug his talons into the soil, scooping out the rich, soaked earth. He tossed it aside where it landed with a splat against the viridian grass and yellow daffodils.

Avice squinted into the hole. “Do you think it is deep enough?”

“One more should do it.” With that, he scooped again, doubling the size of the hollow. “Alright, little witch. Let us do what we promised.”

She nodded, pulled back her sopping cloak, and extracted the linen covered seed. Avice gently unwrapped it, careful not to touch it directly with her bare skin. The moment it was exposed to the rain, the seed sparked with green magic and let out a call that reminded Trewoofe of the buzzing bees. She flapped the seed loose from the cloth, and it fell inside the hole with a wet thump. The seed illuminated the hollow, casting the interior with an eerie green light. Trewoofe slopped the mud back in, packing the soil as tightly as possible.

He patted the top with his paw and flicked his tongue at it. “I would consider our task done.”

Avice threw her arms around his mud-caked leg. “Thank you, Lord.”

Trewoofe brushed his tongue over her face. “It is my duty and my pleasure.” He arched his neck towards the sky. “It’s getting late,” he observed. “Perhaps we should stay the night.”

“I do not think I could face the trudge home,” she agreed. “The only problem is, where do we rest?”

Trewoofe huffed and scanned the tree line. “Perhaps I could tear off some branches and make a shelter?”

“Not a bad idea.” Her face brightened. “Let me try something first. If it does not work, we will go to your suggestion.”