volunteer to risk your lives to save everyone else?"
Eyes turned away from them. Women grasped onto their husband's arms, letting them know they weren't to volunteer. No one else stood up to their mate, choosing to take the risk Connor and Bastian were.
Everyone knew Tressa had nothing to lose.
"I have to go." Bastian turned back to Vinya, his teeth gritted.
"You don't have to do anything," she snarled back at him. She shot a glance at Tressa, huffed, and stomped away. "Make sure you tell your daughter goodbye before you freely walk to your death," she tossed over her shoulder.
Hazel grabbed Vinya’s arm, sending the three a look of sympathy. Her understanding was beyond comprehension.
Bastian turned his back on his retreating wife. "When do we leave?"
"We need to gather any supplies we can carry." Connor turned to Tressa. "Did you unpack your bag?"
Tressa shook her head. "No. There wasn't time. I'm ready to go as soon as the two of you are."
"It'll only take me a few minutes," Connor said. "Bastian, go home, get a change of clothes, some food, and whatever else you think we'll need."
Bastian looked over his shoulder. Vinya was gone. "I don't need to. I keep extras of everything at the forge."
Connor looked at him in surprise.
Bastian shrugged his shoulders. "I sleep there sometimes."
Connor laid a hand on Bastian's shoulder. "You should say goodbye to your daughter. I'm going to give my boys big hugs and kisses before I leave."
Bastian mumbled something to Connor, but Tressa couldn't hear. She fought the urge to listen in. If it wasn't for her ears, then she'd have to live without knowing. When they were kids, Connor and Bastian would cook up plots to terrorize her. Spiders in her hair, that sort of thing. One day, she kicked Bastian between the legs, on purpose, and told him that's what he'd get if they ever kept secrets from her again. That was the last time they'd spoken in whispers in front of her. Until today.
Connor nodded. "I understand." He shifted a bit, including Tressa in their conversation. She pretended like she hadn't even noticed they were excluding her. "Bastian and I will be back here before the sun crests."
Tressa looked up into the sky. They didn't have long. "Okay. I'll be back then too. I just need to grab my pack and a couple of other things."
Connor tossed an arm over Tressa and Bastian's shoulders. "The old gang back together. This is going to be some adventure."
Bastian smiled, nodded, and then walked toward the forge. Tressa slipped out from Connor's arm and left for her cottage. She glanced over her shoulder one more time at the dead dragon. Her heart swelled and she knew only one thing: she needed to see another one of those, alive and strong.
Chapter Thirteen
Tressa snuck into her cottage, avoiding the crowds still milling around outside. They seemed to have lost interest in blaming her. In a way, the dragon saved her from an angry mob. They would have turned on her, all of them, and she knew it. Udor only would have fanned the flames of their ignorance, leading them into thinking she was everything he wanted them to believe.
She reached into the corner of the small cottage, grabbing her travel pack. It was stuffed with a change of clothes, breeches not a dress, bread and apples, a bit of jerky, a jar of honey, and little else. A small doll crafted by Granna from fabric scraps hid in the bottom. It was the one sentimental item she allowed herself. Everything else would have to stay behind. Waiting for her return.
Well, if she'd had family that might be the case. With Granna gone, her goods would likely last a day before they were distributed to others who needed them. No one ever came back, so why bother saving them?
She reached into her pocket, fingering the crinkled note she'd found earlier. She wanted to chalk it up to more of Granna's wishing.
A lilting noise interrupted her reverie. Tressa peeked out the back window, looking for the source. In the apple tree behind her cottage, a small downy bird, with huge eyes and a tiny beak peered at her. Its head bobbled up and down, then flipped to the side. Tressa gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. Nerak, Granna’s little owl.
Tressa tsked with her tongue, while stretching out her hand. The owl tilted its head to the other side. It was such a strange movement, as if it