The Pillars Of The World

she finished latching the inside shutters and drawing the winter drapes across them. Normally she enjoyed watching a storm roll in from the sea, but this one seemed ominous, somehow.
    “You’re getting daft, Ari,” she muttered as she stripped off her clothes and pulled on her heaviest nightgown. “First you talk to horses, and now you think storms have moods.”
    But storms did have moods, and this one made her uneasy.
    A gust of wind struck the cottage hard enough to make the windows rattle.
    Ari froze for a moment, then shook her head. Only a fool would ride out on a night like this.
    She put on clean socks, stuffed her feet into slippers, then put the snug on over her nightgown. Running her hand down the heavy wool, she smiled sadly.
    The snug was her mother’s idea. Tired of shawls that never seemed to stay put, Meredith had taken one of her shawls and sewed up the sides to make loose sleeves. Ari had woven fasteners that could keep it closed with a button. The result was a cross between a shawl and a coat that Meredith, laughing when she tried on the result of their efforts, had said would keep them warm and snug even in the stiffest breeze.
    Another gust of wind had Ari moving into the cottage’s main room. She stood in front of the hearth, breathing steadily as she focused on the wood. The power of fire swelled inside her, making her right hand tingle a little. She banked that power, gently. Raising her hand, she fed the rest of it into the wood.
    A bit of smoke rose from the kindling. Then a tiny flame flickered, caught more kindling, and grew stronger. She continued to feed that tiny fire until the last log began to burn easily.
    Moving into the kitchen, she sniffed the aroma of rabbit stew and pressed her hand against her growling stomach. She started to smile, but it faded when she looked at the kitchen door with its shiny new bolts and locks.
    How had old Ahern known that her kitchen door had been broken last night? Surely he hadn’t come around last night because it was the Summer Moon? Surely not. He’d never looked at her that way. But in his own gruff way, he’d always been kind.
    He’d said he’d come looking for the gray stallion, and she knew that one came around in the evenings from time to time to graze in the meadow—had been doing so for as long as she could remember.
    But Ahern had never come looking for the gray horse before. In fact, one time when she’d asked him if the horse had strayed, there had been a twinkle in his eyes, shadowed by sadness, when he told her that the gray had strayed a bit too far in its younger years but that time was long past, and that she needn’t worry about the horse. Then he’d given her a searching look and asked if it troubled her to have the gray around. It didn’t trouble her, and she’d told him so. So why had Ahern come looking for the gray last night?
    “Don’t borrow trouble,” Ari told herself firmly, dishing out a bowl of stew. “He was here for the reason he said he was, and because he was, he noticed the door and came back this morning to fix it. If you keep thinking this way, you’ll end up with the headache as well as a stomachache.” She cut two slices of sharp cheese from the wheel, then cut a thick slice of bread from the loaf she’d baked that morning. As an indulgence, she spread what she considered to be an extravagant amount of butter over the bread.
    Bringing her dishes to the table in the main room, she lit a couple of candles. Satisfied with the look of things, she hurried back to the kitchen, took the stew pot off the stove, put the teakettle on, then filled a glass with water to have with her meal.
    Returning to the table, she gave thanks to the Mother for her bounty, then bit into the bread and almost groaned with pleasure. As she chewed slowly, she looked around the room.
    After dinner, she could bring the small loom in from the workroom and sit by the fire and weave for a little while. Or she could sit in the rocking chair that someone had given her grandmother so many years ago and just dream by the fire. Or she could snuggle into bed and get the sleep she needed to deal with whatever tomorrow would bring.
    Like whatever damage the storm may do to the young lettuce and the seedlings you planted in the past couple of days. Or having the root cellar flood because you still haven’t gotten the spell for keeping out water quite right.
    Ari shook her head and picked up her spoon. Borrowing trouble again. She’d