Chapter 571 Heading to Ciderbrook

• Old Gordon thumped his chest to assure Eric Goodwell he’d take care of everything, then hustled down the mountain. Watching him go, Eric could only shake his head with a wry smile. He rubbed his fingers again, shrugged helplessly, then walked to a mountain brook, rinsed his hands, splashed his face, and finally headed downhill.
• On the way down, even Eric didn’t know what got into him. Like he was bewitched, he brought his right index finger up to the tip of his nose again.
• He’d washed his hands, sure, but a faint, soothing fragrance still clung to his fingertip—like a breeze slipping in at night, quiet and soft, leaving the world dewy without a sound.