The well cover was lying in the grass like someone had gotten tired of it.
Not pried.
Lifted and set aside, nails still in the wood, the dirt around the rim smoothed by hands that had not been in a hurry.
Jorn was on the bench.
He had done what he was told.
That was the problem.
"I didn't stand," he said, as soon as the horse came into the yard.
His voice had too many edges for one man.
"I didn't go to the trees. I didn't say her name. I sat here and held that damned toy until my fingers went numb, and then the cover moved by itself. I watched it. I thought if I watched it, it would be ashamed and stop."
Rigel dropped off the horse and did not go to the rim yet.
The packet in his coat had gone still, which was worse than the slamming.
"Where is she."
Jorn laughed once, helpless.
