Chapter 71

Chapter 71

The Orchard Path

Morning arrived softly over Nevermore Valley.

Mist rested between the trees, turning the distant hills pale beneath the early light.

Thomas Vale stood at the edge of Nevermore Village with his notebook in one hand and his lantern hanging from the other.

He looked toward the old orchard.

The path waited beyond the last row of houses.

Gideon Marsh approached from behind.

"You came early."

Thomas glanced at the sky.

"I wanted the light before the mist burned away."

Gideon looked toward the orchard.

"Then you chose wisely."

Thomas smiled.

"I assume that means you have changed your mind about coming."

"I said tomorrow."

"And today is tomorrow."

Gideon gave him a sideways look.

"You are becoming troublesome."

"I have been told that before."

Together, they walked toward the orchard.

The first trees stood close together, their branches reaching across the path.

They had once been carefully planted.

Thomas could see the evidence immediately.

The trees were arranged in rows, though time had blurred the pattern. Some had fallen. Others had grown crooked, their branches twisting around neighboring trunks.

Thomas opened his notebook.

"Apple trees."

"Mostly."

"Mostly?"

"There are a few pear trees farther in."

Thomas made a note.

Gideon watched him.

"You write everything down."

"That is the purpose of a notebook."

"Some things are better remembered."

Thomas looked up.

"And some things are remembered incorrectly."

Gideon smiled.

"Fair enough."

They continued.

The ground beneath their boots was soft from the previous day's rain.

Every few yards, Thomas stopped to examine something.

An old pruning mark.

A broken branch.

A stone half-buried beneath moss.

A rusted piece of metal that had once belonged to a fence.

Nothing seemed extraordinary.

But together, the pieces told a story.

Someone had cared for this orchard once.

Someone had walked this path regularly.

Someone had built boundaries.

Thomas crouched beside a low stone wall.

"This was constructed."

Gideon nodded.

"Yes."

"How old?"

"Older than the village road."

Thomas looked at him.

"How much older?"

Gideon considered the wall.

"I couldn't tell you."

Thomas carefully brushed away a little soil from one of the stones.

He stopped himself before disturbing anything further.

"Then we leave it as it is."

Gideon nodded approvingly.

They followed the wall.

It curved away from the orchard and disappeared behind a cluster of overgrown trees.

Thomas stepped around them.

Then he stopped.

"Gideon."

The older man joined him.

Beyond the trees stood an old gate.

It was made of weathered wood reinforced with dark iron.

One hinge remained attached.

The other had long since rusted away.

The gate stood open.

Thomas stared at it.

"Was this here when you were younger?"

Gideon was quiet.

"I remember the gate."

Thomas waited.

"I don't remember it being open."

Neither man moved.

A breeze passed through the orchard.

The gate creaked.

Once.

Slowly.

Then it became still.

Thomas reached for his notebook.

Gideon looked beyond the gate.

"What is it?"

Thomas glanced at him.

"That's what we're here to find out."

He began sketching.

The gate.

The stone wall.

The position of the orchard.

The direction of the path beyond it.

He added measurements where he could.

Gideon watched.

"You don't need to draw every tree."

Thomas looked at the page.

"I disagree."

"Why?"

"Because if we return and something has changed, I want to know what changed."

Gideon considered that.

"Now that is sensible."

Thomas finished the sketch.

Beyond the gate, the path continued.

It was narrower than the orchard trail.

Grass had grown across most of it.

Still, the shape remained visible.

Someone had once travelled this way.

Perhaps many someones.

Thomas stood.

"We continue?"

Gideon looked toward the sky.

"Only a short distance."

Thomas nodded.

They passed through the gate.

Behind them, the orchard seemed strangely quiet.

Neither man noticed the raven watching from the upper branches.

Meanwhile, at Breedlove Manor, Beatrice entered the library.

The morning sunlight had reached farther across the floor than it had the previous afternoon.

She walked toward her desk.

Then stopped.

The black feather was gone.

Beatrice looked at the empty place where she had left it.

She searched the desk.

Nothing.

She checked beneath the open book.

Nothing.

A small smile crossed her face.

"Well."

Perhaps someone had cleaned the desk.

Perhaps a breeze had carried it away.

Perhaps she had simply misplaced it.

There was no reason to think otherwise.

She opened the book.

For a moment, the library returned to its ordinary quiet.

Then Beatrice heard wings outside.

She looked toward the window.

A raven crossed the morning sky.

She watched it disappear beyond the trees.

"Go on, then," she murmured.

The bird was already gone.

Far beyond the manor, Thomas and Gideon continued along the forgotten path.

The orchard disappeared behind them.

Ahead, the land opened slightly.

Thomas stopped.

The path did not end.

Instead, it divided.

One branch continued toward a low wooded rise.

The other followed the old stone boundary toward what appeared to be open meadow.

Thomas stared at both.

Gideon came to stand beside him.

"Which way?"

Thomas looked down at his map.

Then at the two paths.

"Neither."

Gideon raised an eyebrow.

Thomas smiled.

"We mark both."

For the first time that morning, Gideon laughed.

"Now you're thinking like a proper mapmaker."

Thomas drew two new lines.

One toward the woods.

One toward the meadow.

Neither line had a name.

Not yet.

And somewhere behind them, the old gate moved gently in the morning breeze.

As though the orchard itself had watched them leave.