Chapter 1 #2
When he didn’t speak, she rolled her bottom lip between her teeth. His eyes dipped to her mouth. Two bright spots of color warmed her cheeks as she remembered his indecent state.
He nodded, then turned to leave again.
She tried to follow, but his legs were far longer than hers, his pace quicker. She tripped over twigs and rocks.
"Leave me be."
"But will you be alright? You—you need a healer. You are injured," she called after him.
No one survived a fall like that—yet he stood, walking, talking.
Strange exasperation lined his features as he faced her once more, tree limbs swaying behind him.
"Do not have a care for me, Vesperin Vox. I will survive."
Before she could speak, he turned and left, vanishing into the forest.
He never told her his name.
The next day, she went back to the meadow. She held a wicker basket in her hand, stuffed with bread and cheese, as well as blankets, bandages, and salve.
Her father had caught her sneaking into his apothecary, but she’d claimed she found an injured fawn in the woods. He’d warned her to be careful. The woods were dangerous. Many a monstrous creature resided within.
Her hands shook as she crested the small knoll. Would the crater still be there, or had it been a dream?
As the sun cut through the clouds above, she saw the charred edges of the crater—still there. She breathed a sigh of relief.
Standing before it, she couldn’t believe it had been real. She knew better than to tell anyone.
This was something just for her.
The ground around the crater was dry and pocked. She retraced her steps to the willow tree, spreading out a blanket and picking at bread as she watched the meadow, waiting.
She stayed until the sun dipped and the air grew chilly.
Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t let herself eat more than a few bites, wanting to save the rest in case he returned.
Her lids slipped shut as she was pulled into sleep, too tired after staying up most of the night prior.
Something tickled the tip of her nose.
She wrinkled her nose, hand rising to lazily brush it away.
It happened again.
Her breath stalled in her lungs as her eyes opened.
She jerked back, bark scraping her flesh.
The man knelt before her, his hand a hair’s breadth from her face.
"It’s you," she breathed. "You’re back."
Instead of moving away, his hand drifted to the back of her head. White light filled the air, and she melted.
"What is that? Your Stella?" she asked. "I’ve never seen anything like it. It makes me feel… happy."
He met her eyes. He jerked his hand away as if her words had burned him.
His skin was clean of ash, but he was still nude.
"It is not made for you to understand."
"Oh." She frowned, reaching for the basket and pulling out a pair of dark, patched breeches—they belonged to her brother. "For you. It’s… cold."
His eyes narrowed, but he took them and stood, uncaring of his nudity as he tugged the breeches over his hips. He sat carefully, tugging at the snug fabric against his thighs.
She tugged free a few bandages and a pot of salve.
"I have this. It is for wounds. Your back—it is—you need to be tended to." Her confidence wavered the longer he stared at her.
"I will heal. I do not need your help." He turned to look at her, and she saw more cuts and scrapes on his skin.
"It is not wrong to need help. Just because you will heal, does not mean I cannot help you."
"If you must," he said, turning back to the meadow.
She unscrewed the tin, dipping her fingers in the cool, thick salve.
"This might sting," she warned softly.
She touched his back, fingers light as she smoothed the salve over the scrapes. Some were thin and red, clean as if he’d dipped himself in a body of water, but others were dark with dirt and ash. With a light touch, she used a cloth to carefully clean them.
His back muscles flexed under her touch. When she was done, she moved to his neck, his throat dipping. When she got to his face, his jaw ticked.
Her eyes raised. He was already staring at her.
"Only a few more."
He nodded.
There was a small cut near his hairline. She brushed his hair away, rising on her knees.
This close, she could see the darkness in his eyes—unnatural.
"What are you?" she couldn’t help but ask.
"I am no man."
She knew that already. "A Star?"
"Perhaps I am."
"Perhaps?" she echoed. "How can you not know what you are?"
"I know what I am, but do you need to know what I am?"
She pulled away, packing the salve into her basket. She tugged the bread and cheese free, shoving it toward him. "I want to know."
He stared at the food in his hands like he’d never seen such a thing before. "How are you not afraid of me?"
"I often don’t do things as I should. A flaw, as my mother would say." She shrugged a shoulder, watching as he cautiously took a bite of the cheese.
"Humans and their flaws." He said it lowly, as if forgetting she was there.
He wasn’t human. She’d known but—
A Star, then. Her Star.
He stood with the half-eaten food in his hand. "Where do you go when you are not here?"
She stared up at him. "What do you mean?"
He gestured to the leaves of the willow, hanging around them both. "Do you live under this tree?"
She laughed, and his eyes brightened. "No. I live in a home. Humans don’t live under trees—though, I would if I could manage it."
Satisfied, he nodded. "I will return when the moons rise again."
He left her there, under the willow tree. His words weren’t a blatant invitation, but a quiet inquiry into the state of her company.
She smiled to herself as she watched him go.
The next day, she sat beneath the willow tree, waiting for him.
She had stayed up nearly all night, wondering.
She’d risen early and dressed, shoving fruit into her mouth as she headed to the archival building, governed by an elderly woman with a hunched back and dour face.
All day, she’d sat in the little building, a cat weaving between her legs as she pored over books.
She’d been able to find nothing on fallen Stars who appeared as men.
Her gaze kept being drawn to the stained glass window, as if hoping to catch a glimpse of him outside.
Under the willow tree, she braided long pieces of grass as she watched the treeline.
He appeared like an apparition—golden skin, dark hair, and black eyes. He still wore the pants.
He stalked up the knoll to where she sat, staring down at her.
"You are quite determined."
"Do you wish for my apology? You were the one who told me when you were going to return."
He sat. She waited for that white light to appear, but it did not.
It was quiet for so long, she wondered if he’d forgotten she was there.
She felt his sudden desire to leave. She didn’t want him to go.
"Are all Stars men like you?" she asked. Her voice cracked. How long had they sat here, in the silence?
He laughed lowly. It was a strangely pleasing sound. "No. We are not called Stars in truth, but rather we live in the Stars. Beings such as I, we call ourselves Celestials." He cleared his throat. "We live in the Stars your kind worships."
"Celestials," she breathed. It was a fitting name. "Why are you here then? Are there more? Did you leave by choice? Will you return?" The questions spilled from within her, unable to be contained.
He stood, jaw locked as he stared down at her. Anger pulsed from him in waves. Her Stella curled within her, frightened.
"Do not follow me, Vesperin Vox." He left without looking back.
The next day, she returned.
She waited. And waited.
He never showed up.
Nearly a fortnight later, the girl had gone to the willow tree each night. Her under eyes bore the evidence of her interrupted rest.
She curled beneath the tree, etching a simple drawing—deep eyes framed by thick brows, plush lips, and a straight nose.
She fell asleep with her head pillowed on her arm.
She awoke to a familiar tickle. She knew, before she opened her eyes—he was back!
She sat up, nearly bumping into him.
Looming over her, he blocked the sky. "Do you not have anyone who misses you?" He seemed to be speaking of her constantly returning to the willow tree.
She set her wooden tablet on the grass as the strap of her gown slipped off her shoulder. "I am usually overlooked. Not many miss me."
His lips twitched with dark mirth. "A human and a Celestial with one commonality."
She stared at his face. The scrapes and cuts were gone. Even the salve couldn’t heal it that swiftly.
"You have no one who misses you?" she repeated his question.
"I did not even know, before now, what it meant to miss."
Her lips parted.
They fell into silence, until:
"Tell me something," he demanded.
"What do you wish to know?"
His hands reached for a small braid she’d left in the grass. He brushed his finger over the edge, but did not unravel it. "Anything. Everything—what it is like to be human."
She told him of her slow mornings, tending to the gardens, baking, sleeping, her family…
When she started to speak of the drawings on her wax tablet, his eyes drifted to where it rested by her legs.
He took it, his forearm brushing her lap as he did.
She shivered. His scent was peculiar, like dust from the Stars had been misted over him.
It was a clean, thick scent, reminding her of standing amid a deep cavern.
His eyes rose to meet hers. "You are gifted."
"It is merely—it is not that good." Her fingers flexed, yearning to reclaim the tablet in his hands.
"I am unsure who made you believe such a thing, but they lied. Do not think so little of yourself."
When he left, she didn’t feel quite so cold.
A few nights later, she stood by the crater. A tiny blossom grew from the blackened dirt. She walked back up the knoll to retrieve her waterskin from her basket, taking it to the blossom and crouching by its side. She poured water into her palm, sprinkling it over the delicate green leaves.
That was how he found her, kneeling over the innocent flower with a gentle smile on her face.
The sun was setting, casting the meadow in lilac.