Spoiler
Link to Chapter 1:http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/topic84883.html
The sun is over my head at the moment; it’s been hours since the Buster started barking at me and I jumped out of the window onto the itchy human grass. Spencer had just left at that time, followed by the human woman. There was only a man left, snoring in his room with another vibrating metal object.
I’d crossed a smaller black road into a small forest. The trees here seem less alive compared to the ones in my lands and they lighten up to my touch as if I’ve given them the energy they need. I’ve fashioned myself some shoes out of their leaves and small branches, magicking them to stay together.
My skin mimics the surroundings, twigs and shadows running over a fleshly canvas. I’ve become a master of camouflage since Mallory’s death, wanting to be invisible to everyone and to speak to no one. The tough armor I’d built had broken with his body, and I have become an easy target to both sides. Feelings are too real and bring too much pain nowadays.
I jump at every abnormal sound. When everyone is hiding, there’s no telling who will be the first to be found. I don’t want to be the first, and so I’m on high alert. The bugs of the forest chirping are just barely enough to cover my light footsteps; and will do the same for my catchers if they’re as cautious as I.
I don’t let myself think about things, like about Spencer and why he, a mere human, should possess any magic, or about how stupid I am, thinking that I can just run away into the unknown to escape scenarios with results that are also unknown. I just focus on not running into trees or stepping on dry and brittle twigs. It’s a game of wolf and rabbit; unfortunately, I’m the rabbit. I reason to myself that leaving the human household was the best decision. Eventually, the human would tire of me or become scared. My catchers would have found me there. But they wouldn’t have. The human could unleash his magic upon me and there would be nothing I could do to attenuate its full blow. I won’t think about going back. A decision shouldn’t be unmade.
It’s been hours of running, and I am exhausted. My legs have long lost their feeling and the soles of my feet wouldn’t feel anything even if a bucket of boiling water was poured upon them. It’s a well-deserved break, so I climb up an ancient tree aged with wrinkles and trunk covered with moss and fungus. No one will find me in the branches. They won’t expect me to be up this high. My back rests against the tree and it’s almost as if I can hear a heat beat.
Looking from high up, I notice for the first time the oddity of this tree growing in the midst of dying pine and oak trees. Perhaps it wasn’t a tree…
“Hello?” I whisper. I don’t see any eyes, so I could be wrong. For minutes, there is no reply. “Dryad?”
Then a soft groan comes from the tree. “You awoke me from my slumber.”
I want to groan myself and slap my head. Faeries annoy me. They’re pesky big and little things, some with malicious intent. Bargains also annoyed me. Everything has to be a bargain. Bargain this, bargain that. What if I don’t want to bargain with you? Why they can’t ever have a conversation without speaking of a bargain or favor will remain a conundrum to me.
“Can you be a bit more… still?” I say, “I’m trying not to be found.”
“And what will you pay me to keep you hidden?” the dryad half yawns.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“For my roots not to be chained to the dirt,” the dryad replies.
“To be chained to the dirt sounds painful,” I say. It’s probably done some horrid sort of crime deserving of its torture. My light nature tells me to help release it; my dark nature laughs and says to let the dryad suffer, to lie to it and laugh at its interminable pain.
“Please?” it whines.
“I haven’t got the time,” I say which is true. I can only rest for a little while.
“It’s not hard. You just need to take some salt in the clay near a creek not far from here and some water to mix it in, and then sprinkle it over my roots. It’s nothing but a bit of pixie magic, a hoax played on me. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
I look around, stalling. Time is worth more than freeing a dryad. Time is finding food to feed my screaming stomach void of food. My stomach rumbles.
“I’ll even summon up some food for you. Faery magic that tire elves like you,” The dryad is pleading now, and I’m tempted.
I close my eyes. There are no elves like me. “No fairy food. Real edible food I won’t get poisoned by. And you promise to never let anyone know that I’ve been here?”
The dryad sways its head, nodding and almost throwing me off its branches.
“Yes. Of course.”
I sigh and climb down from its branches. “Which way?”
The dryad points a direction opposite of the black path. “Straight ahead, there will be some clay in the river beds.”
***
Finding the creek poses to be quite a challenge. There are clusters of trees everywhere and brambles growing on the grounds. The last time the dryad made this journey must have been hundreds of autumns ago. I bet the creek’s even dried and I’ve been sent on a hopeless task. But after awhile, the trees start to grow older and I can hear the trickling of water. A rabbit hops ahead of me, oblivious of its silent stalker. I follow it towards the creek.
Sure enough, there is some clay in the dirt by the running water. I have to dig to coax it out though. The rabbit has hopped off, startled by handful of ground being scooped without a body. After awhile though, it ventures back, ignoring the strange happenings and eats some of the salt and clay.
I’m thankful that the creek is too shallow for a homicidal kelpie to lurk in and hope that the dryad is the only faerie in this forest.
Taking water from the creek is the trickier bit. I don’t want to awaken anymore sleeping trees, so I don’t pluck leaves from the nearby greens or break off branches to magick. Instead, I strangle the rabbit. My dark side laughs, and my light side constricts my heart and causes a small creek to trickle from my emerald eyes. Now that rabbit is dead, I magick it into a small furry water pail, put the slimy clay into it, and douse it in the creek.
I don’t see a reflection, which is good. Not even the red radiating, glow of my pallid, ghostly skin. The leaf dress and shoes I’m wearing don’t show either along with everything else in contact of my flesh. I’m tempted to show myself and look at my reflection in the water, see what a couple of days of running, hiding, and starvation has done to my features; but I don’t. Instead, I merely imagine my features as I walk back to the dryad, careful not to spill the muddied water.
My trademark elf ears will still be as pointy as ever and the locks of my red hair will be in knots and have twigs and leaves entwined in them. My cheeks may be a bit hollow, but bags will not be under my eyes. I don’t know if I’d look beautiful, as Spencer had said. If anything, feral and untamed.
***
There are noises when I weave my way back. Familiar voices. I stay behind the bushes and listen.
“You’re so silly,” a female voice says, “Juvenile, Bradan.”
There is a shuffling noise and a swing of a metal blade. “Silly? Look at yourself, believing that one day you might rise to the Dark throne. Such disloyalty. You should be ashamed. Wishing for the Queen to accept my heart is nothing compared to your wild fantasies,” Bradan says.
“Queen? You dare call that- that- half-breed our Queen? We follow orders from no one Bradan. No one except the dark king and his glowing bitch.” It’s Heather. I can feel her anger and hatred in her voice. I see her face darkening and can envision her hands clutched in angry fists. “She’s nothing. Nothing compared to me, scum on my feet even. Just like those wretched Unseelie faeries some idiots are offering their loyalty to.”
“Lusting after me?” Bradan smirks.
Heather punches him, and I can see her cheeks turn the brightest shade of blue even from my spot. “Not as much as you’re craving Maeve and her throne.”
Bradan is livid now. He swings his arms towards Heather and tries to catch her, but she’s too quick for him. She jumps around and bounces her purple locks of hair tauntingly.
“Attacking another of the King’s scouts isn’t very good Bradan,” Heather teases and Bradan is even more infuriated.
“Neither is treachery nor mocking the King’s blood and flesh.”
“Oh plu-ease. Her? Really? ”
“We both know that I’m the King’s favored suitor for her.”
Now it’s Heather’s turn to be mad. “I’ve wanted you since we were children. You promised we’d be dark lovers one day. You said that when your fingers were playing with my hair and your lips were whispering dark things in my ear about how one day we’d have the dark throne.” She’s pouting now and hot tears are departing from her swollen eyes.
“You are a fool.”
“And you’re one too. You really still feel for me more than you’re willing to admit.”
Bradan doesn’t respond. Instead, he turns and rams a fist against the dryad. Slowly, he lets out searing words, “You are no longer desired.”
“I hate you!” Heather screams, “You’re just like one of those faeries. You tell false truths.” She stomps her feet and hands.
“Faeries can’t lie, Heather,” Bradan responds calmly. He approaches Heather slowly and wraps his arms around her, his knife in his right hand. “A test, that was all. You know I can’t give my heart away if it’s already yours.” He kisses her eager lips that blind her from the blade, but his eyes are wide open and his muscles are tense.
Suddenly, the dryad’s branches pull in a sweeping motion and knock Heather and Bradan to the ground. Startled, Heather locks her hands in Bradan’s. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Scared?” Bradan mocks.
“Leave,” the dryad commands. I can see its eyes now, glowing with bright light. Power that centuries of immortality bring.
Bradan knows this too and quickly says, “Yeah, you’re right Heather. Let’s go. We’ve got Maeve to find anyways.”
-------
Alternative ending to Chapter 2:
I wait a few moments until the soft crunching sounds of Heather and Bradan’s evading footsteps are no longer audible when I reemerge from the bushes. The dryad is apathetic of my return. It stares into the direction Heather and Bradan had left.
“Here,” I say and pour the contents of the rabbit water pail around its trunk. The dryad shakes it branches subtlety at the sound of my voice, acknowledging my presence for the first time since I left.
“So those were the dark elves you were hiding from…”, the dryad replies, “Nearly could of fooled me for Unseelie fey were it not for their iron blades.”
I nod in approval. I need a few moments to recollect myself, make sense of what I had just seen. Heather wanted me dead, but that’s hardly any new information. She’s hated me since we were children. Heather wanting Bradan on the other hand was a new one. The idea brings an unnerving pang of envy. Heather kissed him. Bradan is my cosantóir, my protector. I don’t want her grimy hands touching my toy, but my doll had tried to kill her. His knife glinting in the sun brings out a laugh and for the first time my light nature doesn’t reject the erroneous idea.
Spoiler
I don't know about this chapter... Too random? I want it to be action-packed, but not random. What do you think?
