Ysabet did not promise to keep the secret.
Suth asked after they had drunk the last of the bitter infusion, while Ashaun and Chaska were comparing two possible routes out of the reed hollow. Pip slept beneath the bench, its new forks laid against dry moss. The mouse had moved to its half-covered box, drawn by grain and the familiar bedding.
“Glassroot,” Suth said. “We’ll reach it tomorrow, if these knees remain open to negotiation. I’d like to tell them there.”
“Why there?”
“The elk knows it. I know where to sit. There are fewer people asking whether the roof will fall on me.”
The remaining roof creaked.
Ashaun looked up.
“She’s right,” she called. “It will.”
