Chapter 3 #3
“The mother thinks she is dead, I did not have time to explain. The father wanted her to be buried in the church yard.” The words fell from Avice’s mouth.
She would tell Joan. She resolved to explain to the young mother that her first born daughter still lived, painless and joyful in the land beneath theirs.
“Then, the shepherd agreed to let me bring her to you. On the chance she may live on.”
“I will take her to the Piskies then. If I ask, I am sure they will take the baby and raise her as their own.”
Sweet relief blossomed in Avice’s chest as she looked down at the baby. She grinned from ear to ear now that the little girl would have a chance. She tenderly watched the child yawn with a squeak and close her eyes.
She refocused on the Knucker’s snout as he still lingered by her throbbing wrist. Tears blurred her eyes as she gazed down at Trewoofe’s smooth, white scales.
Avice had done it. She had saved a doomed patient.
The thought of the little girl dancing with the Faeries made her feel light as a feather drifting on a gentle breeze.
Avice was torn from her internal revelry as Trewoofe’s long, hot tongue lashed out. “Lord!” she exclaimed, as it wrapped around her wrist.
Bramble, finding his courage, jumped from behind her legs. He snarled, lips curled back and eyes flashing red. Release her!
Trewoofe rumbled in reply, unable to speak as his tongue was otherwise occupied. His front paw lunged out. The Grim yelped as he was easily tumbled by the Knucker. He crashed onto his side with a thud as he landed on the flagstone. Trewoofe loosely restrained the thrashing and biting hound.
“Lord, I must protest! Release my familiar at once!” Avice demanded, even adding a stamp of her foot for effect.
Trewoofe met her sharpened gaze, a look of amusement dancing in his eyes. His tongue continued to encircle and writhe against her wrist. His saliva soaked her skin, making her tremble.
What is he doing? It is too hot. Avice’s cheeks flushed under his ministrations, and she felt something tighten in the depths of her belly. Something both never explored and long forgotten. I should not be having this reaction to a Knucker!
After what felt like an excruciatingly long time, he finally unwound his twisting tongue from her wrist. She blushed and her knees trembled. Avice’s skin sung mournfully at the loss of his touch, and she bit her lip to stifle a whimper.
She watched, dumbstruck, as Trewoofe removed the cage of his paw from Bramble. The Grim leapt up and barked at the Knucker with indignation.
You may be the King of the Underneath, Bramble growled, but you do not touch her without her permission!
Trewoofe tilted his head and flicked his stubby, horned ears. “I did not know permission was needed.” He shifted his eyes to Avice. “Is this true, little witch? You did not seem to mind my tongue.”
Avice opened and closed her mouth a few times, her blush deepening.
“It is polite to ask before touching others,” she coughed, finding her voice again.
“We have forgotten why we are here.” She jiggled the baby in her arm, the muscles of her bicep screaming with the effort at having held her there for so long. “Are you ready to take her, Lord?”
“Of course I will take the child, but first, please, accept my humblest of apologies,” Trewoofe said, lowering his head so far that the bottom of his jaw pressed flat against the flagstone. “I will not touch you again without your permission.”
“I believe you,” Avice answered hastily as she awkwardly held out the grizzling child, offering her to the Knucker.
“Then all is well.” Trewoofe lifted his head from the ground.
He shifted onto his rear legs, squatting on his haunches, like a dog sitting at his master’s feet.
He extended a forepaw and turned it over.
Avice stifled a giggle at the soft, pink pads.
They reminded her of the bottom of a cat’s paw.
She noted that Trewoofe had three fingers and a thumb, each tipped with a serrated bone-white talon.
“Place the child,” the Knucker instructed. “I will take her to the Underneath.”
Avice nodded and carefully shifted the newborn onto the large centre pad of this upturned paw. The back of her fingers brushed against the warm, pink scales.
So soft.
On impulse, Avice leant forward. Mindful of the surrounding sharp talons, she swooped down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of the baby’s head. She felt the flutter of her fontanelle; confident the newborn would make the journey.
“Go in hope.”
“A fitting name for the child,” Trewoofe remarked, his eyes soft as he studied the girl. “Hope.”
I agree with the Lord, Bramble said begrudgingly. Hope does suit her.
“A good name,” Avice said with a firm nod.
She looked over her shoulder, suddenly exhausted from the excitement of the day. The flagstone path behind her seemed longer than before, and the markers for the stone circle may as well have been a thousand paces away.
“Lord, I will take my leave. We have been here for quite some time, and the days pass differently near your well.” Avice dipped her head with a curtsey. “I will return with an offering of thanks as soon as I can.”
“Travel safely.”