09. || after the fire is gone.

Mint and herb tickled the back of River's throat as their fingers alternated between picking a roll on the banjo and raising a morning joint to their lips. With every exhale, wisps of smoke intertwined with the blue mist that rolled slowly off the mountain, drifting down the road like a tempting finger. The rising sun poured gold around the hemlock trunks where spiderwebs stretched in between, glistening with dew diamonds, but River stared past their shine, just able to faintly trace the outline of the strange woman's cabin through the trees.

Both of their cabins faced one another, built before the winding dirt road had ever connected them. All the camps scattered along this side of the mountain had been used for the coal miners and their families, but now stood abandoned if they even stood at all. Most mornings, the woods were still enough to hear the leather flap of black wings as the crows left the tall pine, southbound to the valley. And most mornings, River woke to their call as they passed overhead. But today was different. Today, the slam of the screen door against the cabin down the road stirred River from their warm bed.

So as the crow flies, River stared down through the woods at the cabin below, wondering if the third slam this morning would be its last. But like most mornings, it wasn't long before their wondering got interrupted.

<I've got a bone to pick with you. Literally, might I add.> Rustling in the branches above River's porch, the Ghost Cat appeared. <Why are you smiling like that?>

"What?" Quick to take another puff, River hardened their jaw. "I'm not smilin'."

<You were definitely smiling.> As the white lynx turned his head to follow River's line of sight, the black tufts of his ears twitched when he spotted the cabin. <Really, River?>

"Really, what?" River scoffed, drawing a longer hit. "If I'm smilin' it's 'cause I'm lookin' down at the springhouse."

The Ghost Cat side-eyed River as he began to clean the fur between his toes. <The springhouse, right.>

With a heavy exhale, River looked across the road to find its stone walls between the maple trees. Beyond it, the black tip of the rotted hemlock pierced the morning sky. "Well, that and Vera's returned."

<Funny, you're not smiling now.> Stopping mid-lick, the lynx lowered his paw to stare back down at River. <Wait, Vera? The Hemlock Witch? Your dead lover you've been moaning about for the last century? That Vera?>

"I ain't been moanin' 'bout nobody." River plucked a couple strings, but the damn cat was right. At least, right enough to be irritating. "It's complicated. And don't act like you didn't know she was back, like it wasn't you feedin' her information." But the lynx was unusually quiet and kinda had a weird, pensive look on his furry white face. Almost made him look wise, the way you'd expect a woodland spirit to be. "She did say she's always been around, watchin' me."

<Through the trees. Told you to quit burying them bodies so close to your place.> Shifting uneasily on the branch, the Ghost Cat retracted his claws from the bark. <So what did she want?>

"Just as you said, that woman's the last of her blood."

<She wants to finish the rite, River. To crack open this mountain again while we're all still bound to it. If ever there was a time to break the curse, it's now.>

With a loud hum, River ignored the lynx and plucked a faster roll on the banjo.

<Oh, but no, you're too busy flirting with the only key we got, asking to pick her apples which is probably some perverted innuendo...>

Hitting the wrong string, River cringed at the flat twang. "Now, Ghost—"

<She already invited you past her wards. Why do you want her apples when you've got a perfectly healthy grove down back. That little bear ain't bothering—>

"Ignatius!" Calling him by his god-given name, River commanded his full attention. "You old fool, I asked her for an easy favor 'cause I know she'll feel more secure askin' me in return." As River propped the banjo against the bench, they took another long drag and found themself staring off towards her cabin once more. "She's runnin' from somethin' dark, I can feel it. The trees can feel it. She'll need help sooner or later."

<Yeah, um, about that...>

"River?"

Choking on a cough, River jumped up from the bench and turned to find the woman standing there with the wooden tool caddy filled to the brim with apples. While that damn lynx had been yammering on, she had somehow snuck up the road. River's heart thumped and bounced around like someone was playing 'Little Darlin', Pal of Mine' on the bass fiddle, just slapping away at their heartstrings 'cause seeing the woman now in the morning light, they could no longer ignore how much she looked like a girl they once knew.

"Sorry," she whispered, taking a step back. "I heard you playing so I figured you must be up."

River continued to stare as their thumb nervously tapped the joint between their fingers. "I didn't wake ya, did I?"

"Oh no, not really. It was nice, actually." She wore the same floral dress as yesterday, but it was much lighter now, almost white and her dark hair was free of leaves and sticky burrs. Long bangs shadowed half her face. "I wasn't sleeping too well, anyway. Maybe not at all, if I'm being honest."

"Them ol' wood haunts spookin' ya in your sleep?" Leaning onto the railing, River scraped the joint against the wood, then slipped it into their breast pocket. "I half-expected you to be gone by dawn. Heard your door slam before the crows callin' this morning."

"I guess I still have something I need to take care of before I head out." As the woman glanced over her shoulder, her hair fell off to the side where a path of dark bruises marred her neck up to her eye. Marks that had already healed with the moonshine last night. She looked back with a half smile, careful to drape her hair around her neck again. "And besides, it'll take more than some bony, undead, twenty-one point, not-deer named Buckmouse to scare me off."

"That's... oddly specific," River murmured as they watched the edge of the woods behind her. "Buckmouse, did you say?"

She let out a soft sigh as she shook her head. "I think I had one glass too many last night, as much as I needed it. But speaking of," she held out the caddy in front of her with both hands, "I just wanted to say thank you for yesterday and to apologize once more for trespassing." Her eyes lowered to the red apples that filled the box. "Although, I'm realizing now how stupid I must look, standing here, uninvited on your property. Again."

"The way you keep worryin' about lookin' stupid makes me think someone's been feedin' you lies." River jogged down the steps to take the apples. "You're welcome here anytime, Boots."

As she retucked that tress of hair that didn't want to stay put behind her ear, her face lifted with a smile. But it was then that River noticed the purple shiner she had was around her left eye, opposite from the one last night. Letting the apples fall to their side, River took a step back.

"I know that's not enough apples to make your cider," the woman began, "but I thought if you wouldn't mind, I could bake something for you? I can't offer much else."

Lost in thought of what these new bruises might mean, River realized they were staring all slack jawed again. "Oh, you don't have t—"

"I do," she insisted. Her ice-cold fingers wrapped around River's hand, drawing their attention to the old garnet ring. "Because I have a favor to ask you now."

"Curse you, River Hawthorne," Blaire's voice called out behind them and the woman dropped River's hand. "Forty-five is too damn old to be gettin' bent like..." Wrapped loosely in a red silk robe, Blaire stepped out onto the porch. "Oh goodness, I thought you were just talkin' to yourself out here again. Pardon any nip-slip, sugar."

"I'm so sorry," the woman began to back up, eyes to the ground. "I didn't realize you—well, I thought you were alone. Lived alone."

"I do—"

"You pay no mind to me," Blaire laughed as she tightened the belt at her waist, making sure she was all tucked in. "I'm just on my way out." As she met eyes with the woman, her stare lingered, but not in her normal fiery way that would send most other women running. This was more like she was looking for something. And maybe she found it 'cause her smile sorta slipped. "River, I'm just gettin' the last of my stuff packed. Jed's already on his way."

River scrambled up the porch steps as Blaire disappeared behind the screen. "Boots, just uh, just gimme a sec."

"I think I should probably let you go."

"Don't be rude, River," Blaire called out again. "Invite that poor girl inside before the dew soaks her boots."

With a reluctant smile, River propped open the screen door and motioned for the woman to come in. She hesitated at first, teeth grazing her bottom lip, but her hand found the railing quick enough and she walked up the stairs, ducking beneath River's arm to come inside.

"It's a bit of a mess right now," River muttered under their breath as they removed a couple mason jars from the sink and set the apples in its basin. "I just uh, need to see Blaire off, but then I'm all yours. For whatever favor this might be, I mean." Opening a cabinet door, River hid behind it as they searched for a set of mixing bowls. "Now, I'm not gonna refuse your baking offer, but don't feel obliged. I'd be glad to help ya with anything you need."

"Help always feels like some unwritten debt," the woman replied, rinsing off the apples in the sink. "I don't like owing people."

River set the bowls on the counter and slid them over towards her. "You and me both."

She didn't look up again, just continued rinsing, fully set on making something of those apples so River left her to it and headed down the hall. Stopping in the bedroom doorway, they watched as Blaire tugged a shirt down over her bare back, but then they quickly looked away. Caught in an unraveling relationship, they didn't want to get all tangled up in those kinds of loose threads.

"Don't make it awkward, River," Blaire laughed as she fluffed her blonde hair out. On top of the tousled bed sheets, her bag stretched open wide as she rummaged through the dresser for the last of her things. "Ain't like you never seen me naked before."

With a smile, River leaned against the door frame. "Just not sure how to go about this."

Even after a hundred years, parting with lovers was never easy. Driving them away always seemed to hurt them more in the moment, but was most effective in the long-run. Except when it came to Blaire. She'd been the most stubborn to the point River nearly came clean about the curse and the woods and themself. But even if they had, and even if she believed it, what kinda life would that be for her?

She was getting older and River was not.

Not at her rate, at least. Seven years would pass, but only one would show on River's face. Another seven and maybe a wrinkle. And Blaire deserved someone who she could grow old with. The curse was a lonely one, but someone needed to protect the mountain. River was just no longer sure who they were protecting it from; a witch, a demon, or just some greedy jagoffs looking to exploit her resources.

The latter being a conversation still not had.

"We didn't really get to talk much last night."

Blaire was quiet a second, her eyes buried in her dresser drawer. "Well, no, not verbally, but I think we both made it pretty clear that last night was our last night." Saying those words aloud seemed to be what she needed. She dumped the rest of her belongings into her bag, but turned her back again. "And for real this time, River."

"Not about us, I mean about yinz leasin' the land out. The scald."

"It's a done deal, there's nothing more to talk about." Blaire closed the dresser drawer that was no longer hers and met River's eyes in the mirror. "My lord, River Hawthorne, tell me you're not still scared of that witchy woman," she teased, slinking closer. "It's just an old story. Made up to blame a woman for every god-awful disaster that's happened this side of the mountain instead of the men who ran the coal companies."

River rolled their eyes as Blaire tickled their side.

"You oughta be more scared goin' to get your whiskey at night than worryin' about that old scald. Daddy always told me she was bound to that dead hemlock by the springhouse. Tricked her lover into buryin' her bones up there."

"Woulda taken a special kind of stupid to go and do somethin' like that," River mumbled, sliding Blaire's hands off their waist.

"Oh, I dunno. They say he was just a teenager, couldn't have known better. And hell, if it is true, then she deserved to burn. What kind of wom—" River clapped a hand over Blaire's mouth before another word came out. Slowly, she reached up to peel their fingers down, holding them tight in her hand. "Gosh, I don't think I've ever seen you scared before. Riv, if it makes you feel any better, we ain't lettin' 'em drill."

"Then what do them jagoffs need access to your land for?"

A truck horn blared from the road, pulling both their attention to the window. Blaire let out a half-hearted laugh as she peeked through the curtain. "Twenty years, and he still won't come up the drive."

"Smart lad."

Fussing with the curtain on its rod, Blaire seemed in no hurry to leave. "So you gonna tell me what's goin' on with that girl? Where'd she come from?"

"She's just stayin' at the old springkeeper's cabin for the weekend. Emery and Sofiya's granddaughter. Nothin' more n'at."

"Nothin' more my ass." Blaire tugged and fought with the curtain before letting it fall back into place. Turning around, she came closer to whisper. "River, she looks beat half to death, dressed in an outfit that costs more than Mama's rent. Those Manolos alone are more than I made this whole week."

River bent down, snatching up their green flannel from the floor, and thumbed through the pockets for the money from the jagoffs last night. With the hundreds hidden in their hand, they walked back over to Blaire. "Since when does Backwoods Barbie know diddly about fashion?" Carefully, they slipped the bills into her back pocket and gave her ass a playful slap. Any other woman maybe would've taken it as an insult, but a proud smirk tugged at her lips. "Said she got into a little fender-bender is all."

"A fender-bender?" Any hint of a smile faded as Blaire cocked her brow. "In a white Mercedes, maybe?"

River let go of her hips and glanced down the hall towards the kitchen. The woman's timing had been a little suspicious, her behavior even moreso. And with the way the trees reacted to her blood, well, Blaire didn't need to be nebbing in her business. River laughed, but maybe a little too rude. "Sheriff Holden got you on his payroll or somethin'?"

And that ignited the fire in her eyes that'd been smoldering since last night. "Unless her seatbelt grew fingers, it wasn't her car that strangled her. I seen bruises like that on women before and it don't ever end well. Whoever did it is probably still lookin' for her." Grabbing her bag, she started to head towards the hall, but River tugged her back.

"Well, she came home for a reason," River assured her. "Long as you don't say nothin' to Holden, maybe no one else will know to look for her here either." 'Cause the last thing River needed was the sheriff and his goons sniffing around and finding pieces of those jagoffs by the hemlock. Hopefully, that little songdog got her fill last night and they could tend to the remains this afternoon.

"Holden couldn't find his own ass with two hands and a flashlight," Blaire mumbled with a soft laugh, but River knew she held a deeper grudge against the sheriff for not finding the man who killed her sister fifteen years ago.

It wasn't entirely Holden's fault though; River had just found the guy first.

"Danny came in shortly after you stormed off last night," Blaire continued. "His tow cable wasn't long enough to reach the car so it'll probably be sittin' down there awhile." As she adjusted the bag on her shoulder, she leaned in again to whisper. "He showed me pictures of the car. Or what's left of it. Nothin' but twisted metal now. If she really did survive it, God must be playin' favorites." Another honk tore through the hollow and Blaire rolled her eyes. "That or she's some kinda immortal."

And hearing that tickled River's interest 'cause Blaire's God had no authority within the mountain's cursed boundaries, including the bottom of Devil's Elbow where the car came to rest. The idea of finding someone else cursed by immortality had only ever been a fleeting thought. Some pitiful hope to combat the loneliness of watching everyone you love die without you. If this woman had made some kinda deal with the ancients, they'd have kept her alive just as they did for River.

And maybe this favor she needed had something to do with it.

"I left your keys and your jacket on the front seat," Blaire said over her shoulder. "You really need to get that hunk of junk looked at." Chopping echoed out from the kitchen as they both walked down the hall and into the living room. Blaire poked her head into the kitchen and caught the woman's attention. "If River gives you any trouble, you just stop on down to The Deer Jaw and let me know. And don't let her trick you into tryin' any of her moonshine."

"Afraid it's too late for that," the woman replied with a smile and that bass fiddle started up in River's chest again. She returned her focus to the knife and apples, chopping in rhythm with River's pounding heart.

"I had a feelin'." As Blaire caught them staring, Jedidiah blasted the horn again. River turned quick to the front door, but Blaire was still slow to follow. "I hope she sticks around for a while," she said quietly. "It'll do ya good to have someone up here." Her hand clasped the doorknob, but it didn't turn. "Maybe I won't have to worry about you being all alone."

"You could just stay." Those weren't the words River meant to say, but they came out anyway.

Blaire didn't dare look back, but she still wasn't turning the doorknob. "You know I can't."

Cupping her hand, River turned it for her and pulled the door open with a heavy heart. Her hand slipped away from theirs and she didn't hesitate this time. It seemed all she needed was that little push to cross the threshold. She didn't stop, she didn't look back, she didn't wave. Which was all probably for the best. It never did any good to look back.