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“The crows told me that you needed me,” he said to my silence

He seldos, my da, and only to the faer brother had died four years ago of a wasting sickness But Da was better at predicting things and knowing things than the hedge witch who held sway in our village He also had an easier ti fires or candles than any other person I kneood, poor tinder, or untrimmed wick—it didn’t matter to him

“I don’t kno you can help,” I told him, my voice harsh from lack of use “They are all dead My wife, my children”

He looked down, and I knew that it wasn’t news to hiic had spoken to him—had told him about their deaths

“Well, then,” he said, “it was time for me to come” He looked up and h I thought that I ran ahead of trouble, not behind”

The words should have sent a chill downthat could happen to me already had

“How long are you staying?” I asked

He tilted his head as if he heard so that I did not “For the winter,” he told me at last, and I tried not to feel relief that I would not be alone I tried not to feel anything but grief My farief—and I, who had failed to save them, did not deserve to feel relief

•••

It was a harsh winter, as if nature herself rieving, but he did s that were needful to get through the day He didn’t push, just watchedA —I knew those lessons froainsaid, and that was as true of e

People careet him Some of the attention was because he’d been respected and liked, but more was because he could be coaxed to play for the and played a little dru like my da When my mother died, no one had been surprised when he’d taken back to traveling, singing for his roo when he first met her

People brought him a little of whatever they had to pay for his music, and between that and the h for winter stores even though I hadn’t put things back as I usually did I hadn’t been worried about whether there was enough food to eat or enough wood to burn

I hadn’t worried about myself because I’d have as soon joined raves With ot that soaze reminded me

It felt odd, though, not to have so I had been the head of the fa about my da: he wasn’t the kind of person who needed anyone to fuss over him He’d survived his childhood—not that he’d spoken of it to h But my ma, she’d knohatever it had been, and it had sparked fierce pride tinged with sorrow and tenderness I knew only that he’d left his ho boy He had traveled and thrived in a world hostile to strangers