Young Writers Society

"And I do. That's why I say mean things about him. But I only say true things. He doesn't mind that; it's hard to bother his sort."

“Mm… still seems rude.” She couldn’t imagine being married to a fae like this. He seemed terribly exhausting to try to find any sense of stability with. Hopefully his husband was as happy as he claimed, and he wasn’t just a narcissist who thought his husband was okay with it when he wasn’t actually.

"Yes, well, I'm a rude person."

“Agreed.” She wrinkled her nose and kept walking, trying to think of how to get out of this conversation. She was done with it now. Done with him.

He followed jauntily along. "Haven't met many of my people, have you? We're mostly like this."

“No. We’re lucky not to have many of your kind around here.” If he was going to be rude, she would, too. “Thankfully your daughter is much better mannered, by some miracle.”

"Hehe. You don't know her very well, then. She won't speak to anyone unless she's got reason to or if they speak first." He shrugged. "Someday there might be a forest fire here; then you'd have a lot of glothar about."

Ki’nuu glared at him. “You better stop making threats. It’s not cute.”

"It wasn't a threat," he replied innocently. "It does happen in some places."

“I’m not stupid,” she scoffed, looking at him sourly.

"And we don't cause the fires. We just come after. And we're born in them."

“What a good argument in favor of not setting fires,” she said dryly.

"They start in their own time," he said with a shrug. "There're forest fires everywhere. Besides, what would I have to gain by starting one here? My daughter lives here; she'd be upset with me."

“And she wouldn’t be upset with you for terrorizing her neighbors?” Ki’nuu asked flatly.

"She knows how I am," he chuckled. "And I wouldn't terrorize them. Just cause a little mischief. Maybe a stocking gets caught on a nail or the chickens don't lay eggs for a few days. Maybe the fire won't light."