As he worked the curve, she watched his hands—not the hands that had once brushed her hair back from her forehead, but the hands that now knew only the language of leverage and grain. He was casting the wood into a new shape, yes. But she realized, with a cold trickle down her spine, that he had been casting her the same way for over a decade.
“You bend it too fast,” Anisiya whispered, “it screams.” Woodman Casting Anisiya
Because something in that clearing had finally learned to scream. As he worked the curve, she watched his