Chapter Fifteen – Taran
Chapter Fifteen
Taran
I’d seen Thea cry because she didn’t want to go into the woods on her first day, and now she was lying in the mud, dirty, breathing so fast that she was almost hyperventilating, but she wasn’t crying. She refused to shed a single tear, and I wondered if it was because of me.
The ravine she’d fallen into was deep. I jumped in and landed with a thud next to her. She let out a whimper and looked up at me. Her green eyes were wide, and she seemed terrified.
“Are you okay?” I asked, leaning over her.
“No. My ankle hurts.”
She’d turned onto her back, but she wasn’t trying to sit up. She was frozen, not moving a finger. Her backpack had tumbled out of her reach.
“Let me see.”
She watched me as I studied her ankle, but seeing how she was wearing boots, it wasn’t like I could see anything.
“May I?”
“What? What do you want to do?”
My branches were already reaching for her foot, and she stared at them warily.
“I need to check and see if it’s broken.”
“It’s only sprained,” she said. “It will be fine. I’ll be fine. Just give me a second.”
“So, you don’t want me to check?”
“No.”
She was firm, even though her voice was shaking a little. I shrunk, so I was closer to the ground. Looking at her from so high up felt weird. Lying on the ground, she seemed even smaller, frailer. Helpless. I hated that I couldn’t do anything for her, because she wouldn’t let me.
“How can I help?” I asked. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
“You can’t. Just give me...” She swallowed heavily. “Give me a second.”
“You’re in pain.”
“It’s not so bad.”
“It looks like you’re in a lot of pain. Don’t lie to me, Thea.”
She gritted her teeth, closed her eyes, then opened them again. She was breathing a little more calmly, but I wasn’t convinced. Something was up with her, and she wasn’t telling me.
“How am I supposed to help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong?” I said.
“You can’t... You can’t help me.”
I frowned. “I can carry you. You can’t walk with a sprained ankle, so I will carry you from now on. It’s nothing to me.”
“No.”
My branches reached for her, and she batted them away with her hands. On the bright side, she wasn’t frozen anymore.
“Don’t, Taran.”
“I’m only trying to help.”
“You’re not! Don’t touch me! I’m not... I’m not ready. Give me a second to... catch my breath.”
I pulled back and gave her space.
She removed her gloves slowly. Her hands were shaking. She looked at them, then gingerly pushed her hair from her face. The dark strands were stuck to her cheeks and forehead, along with a generous amount of mud. She let out a whimper, and it seemed to me like every move she made was causing her pain.
“Talk to me,” I insisted. “Tell me what’s going on. Did you hurt your back?”
I didn’t know a lot about human anatomy, but back injuries were a problem in most species of monsters too.
“No.”
“Then what’s wrong?” It was like pulling teeth with her. Which, granted, I didn’t have. But I’d learned the expression from Harrison, who used it a lot with me.
“I’m covered in mud. Dirt. I’m so dirty. Who knows what’s in all this dirt... Dead insects, rotten leaves, worms... So many bacteria.” Her breathing rate increased again. “I can’t... I feel like I’m suffocating. It itches. Everywhere. There are things... crawling all over my skin.”
My branches reached out for her again. “There’s nothing. Nothing’s crawling over you.”
“No, there is. I can feel it.”
“Thea, there’s nothing. Trust me.”
“I have to get out of here. Out of this hole.”
“Okay, then let me carry you.”
“No.”
She sat up then, and it took all her strength. She pushed herself to her feet, but when she tried to put weight on her injured foot, she screamed in pain. I shot back to my original size, so she could use my trunk for support. Her trembling hand touched my bark, and it felt incredible. For the first time, she was touching me without gloves. Her hand was delicate, with long fingers and short, natural nails. It was obvious she’d never done any kind of hard work in her life.
“Thea, you can’t walk. What’s wrong? Why won’t you let me help you?”
“Because!”
It was beyond me why she was being so stubborn. We were wasting time, when we could’ve been out of the ravine by now, and on our way to the nearest stream, where she could wash her face if the mud bothered her so much.
I held back and refused to react to her little outburst. After a moment of silence, she mellowed down and looked into my eyes. Her hand was still resting on my trunk. Without my support, she would’ve crumbled to the ground, and that was something she wanted to avoid at all costs.
“Because you look like a tree, and... I know you’re not one, but you look like one. You’re part of nature. And I’m afraid of nature.”
“What?!”
She took a deep breath and steeled herself.
“I suffer from biophobia. I was diagnosed when I was young, but I never told anyone. I didn’t want my parents to know. They had such high expectations of me, and I didn’t want them to think that I was sick. I let them believe I’m just not the outdoorsy type, and I prefer reading or painting in my room.”
I waited a beat. Two beats. She didn’t expand on it, so I had to ask...
“What even is biophobia?!”
“It’s fear of nature, aren’t you listening? Fear of natural environments, from, say, a garden to a pond or a forest. Anything that has to do with nature gives me anxiety. Animals, plants, insects, birds. All of it. I can’t explain it any better. I know it doesn’t make sense. Phobias rarely do. They usually come from trauma, but after years of therapy, I have yet to discover what traumatic event in my childhood could’ve possibly triggered it. I just know that I’d rather be inside. At all times. And I’d rather not touch anything that’s... how should I put it? Organic.”
“That’s why you’re wearing gloves,” I said. “And so many layers in full summer.”
“Yes. And I’m constantly hot and uncomfortable, but there’s no way I can be in nature if I’m not covered from top to bottom. Even so, it’s hard.”
“I understand.”
Her eyes widened. “You do?”
“Yes.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “No, you don’t. You couldn’t possibly.”
“What I mean is that I believe you. It is a serious problem, you’re dealing with immense discomfort right now, and all I want to do is help. And you will tell me again that I look like a tree, which is true, but I’m not one. Birds know to avoid me. So do insects and all other living beings that usually make their homes in trees. See? There is no dirt on me. No mud.” I lifted one of my roots. “Even as I crawl over the ground, it doesn’t stick to me. All the leaves and vines you see are my own. They’re part of my body.”
“Still, you’re a part of nature,” she said.
“Just like you are. We look different, but we’re both sentient beings. We have awareness.”
She regarded me with reluctance. At least she wasn’t pulling away, which was a good sign.
“Come on, let me carry you. Let’s get out of here. I know a stream nearby where you can wash up. And you need food and water, too. You’ve had a long day.”
“And it isn’t over yet.”
“That’s why you should let me help you. I broke an important clause in my contract with your father by revealing myself to you, but I think it was the right thing. This journey is hard, especially considering your affliction. Let me make it easier for you. I promise, you’re safer if a carry you than if you walk on your own.”
She looked at her injured ankle. She tried to put some weight on it and winced.
“Nope, it’s not fixed yet,” she said.
I laughed. “It won’t get fixed on its own. I’ll make a splint for you, but first, let’s get you clean.”
“Okay.” She nodded, more to herself than to me. “Okay, you can carry me.”
I lifted her gently, using only two branches, as if I had arms of my own. I didn’t want to touch her more than was necessary. She’d trusted me with her secret. She hadn’t told her family about her fear of nature, but she had told me. It felt special in a way. Now I knew how to protect her better.
“My backpack,” she said, alarmed.
“Got it,” I said, swinging one of my back branches to the front to show her I had it by the straps. “Nothing to worry about.”
She chuckled. “Sorry. I’m not used to this.”
“And by this you mean...”
“Being carried by a tree.”
“Not a tree.”
“I know, I know. Just teasing you.” She patted my trunk lightly, then shifted a little to make herself more comfortable.
The effect she had on me was undeniable. I was already hard for her. My cock grew even bigger, and I could only hope that if she ever lay eyes on it, she would think it was just another branch, albeit shorter and stumpier.
This was going to be... interesting.