**
"I dragged you here to buy roots, not to referee nail merchants." She put wintergreen into the satchel with more force than the leaves needed. "Still. You didn't make a speech. I hate speeches at market."
We bought the rest of what she came for and started back before the rimed boards got worse.
On the path she walked faster than the cold excused, then slowed without apology.
"You're good at the ugly small things," she said. "Keeps the big ones from arriving as often. Don't let Ingrid turn that into only dens work. You're allowed to be seen where people buy onions."
I did not answer with belonging. I adjusted the satchel strap and kept walking.
---
The side hall smelled of pitch when we returned. Oscar and Felix were back from the fringe early, a cracked brace on the bench between them and a streak of blood on Felix's forearm that he was ignoring in favour of the wood.
Freja saw the blood first. "Sit.".
"It's nothing."
"Sit anyway."
