In the months that had followed, Seren had continued visiting the headman's estate at Silvershade as often as her old bones would allow her to. And while at her abode in Willowshade, she had continued keeping up their communication through countless letters, and even a borrowed contact glass at times.
The routine itself hadn't been all too different - if a little more hectic, and a lot more secretive - than what she'd been following over the past few years, since she'd first left her post at the estate.
The only difference had been that her visits and letters were now only ever answered or entertained by Grif.
Her husband had retained his role as the head caretaker. He hadn't left, but more importantly, he hadn't gone behind their backs to summon officials.
She'd always know he wouldn't have the heart to hurt her.
But if all that had made Seren hold on to some hope, for even the briefest of moments, that he would look past their differences of opinion, the man had decisively dashed it all.
Mikah had begun treating both herself and Grif as air, choosing to seclude himself away from all other matters, and focusing solely on the daily care of Grif's mother, the elder lady of the estate.
And with that, Seren had had to accept with a great unwillingness, that some things could never be forced beyond a certain point.
All because she cared for Grif.
All because she loved Elara.
All because she was… afraid…
…and cowardly, and rigid, and selfish, and unprincipled, and dishonest with everyone.
Including herself.
Then, one morning, a mere few weeks after she had returned home from yet another trip to Silvershade, Seren had awoken to what had looked like an entire flock of messenger pigeons tap-tapping at her bedroom window.
They had appeared only to carry to her Grif's urgent message; the village head had asked for her to return with haste.
And even before all the summoned birds had disappeared into nothingness, she had already started limping out her front door.
*
'Another one…' Grif had said in a hoarse voice, reddened eyes darting from side-to-side. The man had been in a terrible state, teetering on the very edge of falling to pieces entirely.
'Another… what?' At the same time, Seren had tried gently to lead him to one of the nearby chairs. It was to no avail. The village head had refused to leave the corner of his room, where he'd been pacing in short, tight stretches ever since she'd first arrived. 'Sir Grif, you must speak clearly! Tell me; another what?'
'Quiet!' the man had hissed, finally leaving his spot to hurry over to the tightly fastened door. It was only after a few minutes of carefully listening at it, that his inexplicable paranoia had seemingly settled.
Returning to the corner, he had then continued speaking in that same, raspy voice, saying, 'Another death, madam Seren. Another death!'
There had been silence. Then,
'…how did you allow such a thing to happen? Grif! Had we not decided that the other helpers are to be kept in the dark? To be kept away from the young lady - to be left to believe that she has simply chosen to seclude herself further?' Seren had gritted her teeth. 'Had we not already made up our minds to prevent exposure through proximity, after little Lana-'
'Quieter! Please, madam Seren! Quieter. Else they might hear!' The man's bloodshot eyes had wandered over to the door once again.
Seren had had to force herself to remain calm. 'Then tell me, Grif. How did it happen?'
The headman had sighed, then whispered, 'It was Anora this time…'
'That child from that hamlet? Only just starting to work at your estate?' Seren had raised a brow, then repeated, 'How did it happen?'
'When she had heard of Lana's departure, she had already expressed her desires to take on her role. And,' Grif had faltered. 'And I believed my little Elara might want for some conversation, the way Lana used to -'
'Elara never even knew of Anora, Grif!' Seren had run a hand through her hair, nearly pulling apart her neatly set bun. She'd almost wished she could tear it all out.
But then, looking again at Grif, who'd been watching her with that familiar, guilty look in his eyes - the same as when he used to get up to mischief as a boy, and would beg his beloved nanny to protect him from his mother's wrath - she'd felt her heart soften again.
'And that… is all very well. But tell me, Grif. Have all records of her having stopped in Silvershade been erased? H-has she been dispo-'
'Quiet! Quieter! Please!' Grif had pled desperately. It was as though his crazed mind had started hearing all her words magnified in volume.
Seren had swallowed hard. Then, after some thought, she'd said, 'Has- has the tree, with all its leaves, been returned to the woods?'
The headman had stared at her for a moment, before the worry had finally cleared away from his forehead. 'Yes, yes. It has been returned!'
He'd recognized the little game they'd all once played during Elara's childhood.
'Then there is nothing for you to worry ab-'
'But there is! There is, Seren!' Shaking his large head, the man had broken away from the corner to start pacing once again. 'There is, because… well, I believe I was s-seen.'
Silence again. Then,
'By whom, Grif? Speak!'
'By-by…' the man's eyes had started darting again. 'By Eira! Eira! He hasn't breathed a word yet, but!'
Seren had drawn her brows tightly at his words.
Young Eira was one of the caretakers' apprentices. Orphaned as a child, he had been taken in and offered a role at the estate.
For a moment, she had felt her heart swell in pride at how kind, how giving and lovely the village head she had all but raised was.
'Should… should the fruits borne by that tree, be returned to the woods as well?' Grif had asked. Then, without waiting for her answer, he'd simply said. 'They should. If the fruit has rotted, it must also be disposed of.'
For a heartbeat, the old maid had only stared at the man who stood before her.
'Yes. It must,' she had said at last. 'If-if a deadly snake, or a scorpion, were to befoul the fruit, none may be blamed for throwing it out.'
Grif had nodded, clenching and unclenching his fists as he'd looked off to one side, quite possibly already running through the repository of beasts at his command.
A simple encounter while picking herbs in the mountains, the smallest of bites, and that boy would never speak of what he'd seen.
Well, everyone had to die someday.
And no one outside of the headman's estate would even miss the little orphan.
…
'Then, handle the matter swiftly.'
*
From that day onwards, there had been another, small change to Seren's experience.
Mikah's distant looks of equal parts indifference and anger, had morphed into one final, accusatory glare of pure hatred.
'You and I, Seren… I never could have imagined where we'd end up! We deserve to die a death worthy of killers and cowards. Cowards! And it will be coming for us soon. Soon.'
Those were the final words he'd spoken to her.