Chapter 13
T ime ticks on incredibly slowly. After a while, I leave the circle for the briefest moment to pee, sanitize, and grab my notebook. I hope it will distract me from my thoughts, but still, more time passes, and I’m stuck looking at the only line I’ve written: Who is Elias?
He can’t lie. No fae can, not even an Unseelie, but something isn’t quite right. A piece is missing, a big one.
I sigh and stare out at the world around me.
The little rise I sit on overlooks a valley before rising sharply into the hills.
A few small groups of gnarled Siponet trees with their grey bark and pine needle like leaves spot what may have one been lush, fertile grazing land.
I can almost picture it flush with green grass, a few streams weaving their way along, cows chomping merely.
Of course, it probably looked different than that, but the potential is there.
I’m even sure the fae have cows, at least, not like ours.
I couldn’t see it when I first arrived, too stuck on the rocky terrain, yellowed-grasses, and complete lack of the lively world I was used to.
But now I notice it everywhere—what might have been.
A chittering sound snares my attention just before two creatures jump out from behind a half-rotten tree sprouting gray fungus.
Their sudden appearance has me jumping in my seat and gasping, but it only takes a moment before I relax.
Squirrel wouldn’t be the right term for them, even though they’re similar in appearance and have a long bushy tail.
They are striped like a tabby cat but not feline.
More like a cross between a raccoon and a groundhog.
Fuzzy, a little chubby, and curious. Very curious.
About what I’m holding anyway. I lift my protein bar, testing a theory, and sure enough, they both look up, following the movement.
“Either you guys taste bad, or there aren’t many fae around here for you to be afraid of,” I tell them as they inch closer, taking a few quick steps on their strangely small feet and then stopping before taking a few more.
Feeding wild animals is never a good idea.
I know that. But they’re so darn cute. I pick off a small chunk of my bar and toss it to them.
It hits the ground just in front of them, and they both leap for it, tangling together and rolling in a heap of fur before one emerges victorious and runs a few feet away, leaving the other one looking forlorn.
“Well, we can’t have that.” I toss another piece to it, which it grabs midair and then dashes off. “Leave it to little woodland creatures to be cute everywhere.”
They’re not the only life I’ve spotted over the last little bit either. The bug and bird sounds have increased. Something similar to ants have formed a little trail not too far away. And one large bird keeps circling, maybe gauging whether my new little furry friends are a good meal.
A minute later, both of them are back.
“Liked that, did you?” I ask the creatures, who of course do not respond.
“Okay, but last bites,” I say and toss them each another.
They fight over one for a moment before realizing there are two and scampering away with their prizes.
I shake my head and give a little laugh.
“And Elias said these didn’t look like food. ”
But then they come back again…
“Nope, all gone.” I hold up the empty wrapper and lift my empty hands.
One of them twitches their rodent-like nose. The other scurries closer, so close I’m scooting back.
“Hey now,” I scold it.
It rises on its hind legs, watching me as the other joins it.
“No more.” I set the empty wrapper down so they can see.
The moment I pull my hand back, one of them grabs the wrapper and runs off. I stand, calling after it.
“That’s trash!” Then quieter, “Silly little—Hey!”
The second one has clamped its jaws on my notebook and lifted it in the air.
“That is not food,” I scold, but it turns and runs for it. “No!”
I sprint after the creatures. They move way too fast for the round little things they are, hopping logs and rocks and skittering through the groundcover like the pros they must be.
Something snares my foot, and I nearly go down. A few more feet, and a loose rock almost gets me again.
“That’s for Matt, you little assholes!” I scream after the retreating thieves.
Finally, I catch up to the one whole stole my notebook where it’s stuck, trying to figure out how to drag the book into its little hole in the ground. I’m not sure how it fits in there, but at least my book got stuck at the corners.
Maybe it senses my fury because it finally drops the book and scurries away. Huffing for breath, I stop and scoop up the book, internally whimpering at the bite marks piercing the surface.
“That’s right, run off,” I snap. “Better be glad I didn’t catch you and make you my dinner.” I snake a fist in the direction it fled. “Furry little thieves.”
A distant whistle splits the air and raises the hairs on my arms. Figures move in the direction the creatures went, but these are not cute furry rodents.
These shapes are large. Humanoid. Mostly.
My skin turns clammy. They walk—no, run—upright.
But the animalist qualities of a few are obvious: horns, antlers, and the like.
And there are at least a dozen, way more than me.
And I’ve left the protective circle.
Shit. Shit. Shit!
I turn and sprint back the way I came as fast as my legs will take me.
The sound grows like a rolling wave headed right in my direction.
A few whoops and calls reach my ears. The excitement lacing through them is palpable.
My foot slips on a loose rock, and I go down hard on one knee.
One forearm takes the rest of the fall, barely keeping my face from slamming into the earth.
I try to shove myself up. My knee cries in protest, and I don’t dare look, knowing I’ll see blood.
Get up!
Halfway to my feet, I twist around to glance behind me. It’s a mistake. A terrible mistake.
One of the Unseelie has separated from the pack, racing ahead on all fours like a bloodhound.
A whimper slips through my lips as I scurry up and start running, ignoring the pain in my leg and the stinging in my palm. The notebook is clutched in my other hand, tucked against my chest.
I’m not going to make it.
I have to make it.