Chapter 43
Trewoofe
Trewoofe galloped through the vibrant, viridian woods.
One paw tucked to his chest, keeping the baby safe, and the other three moving him at a dizzying speed.
He wished he could have stopped to linger in the fruits of his and Avice’s labours.
After seeing nothing but barren frost for so long – except for at the top of his hill – it was like seeing Albion anew.
But Mary needed him, and Avice had given him the important task of saving her. His healing saliva had helped her breathing for now, but he knew she would need a permanent change to keep her alive and well.
So, save her he would.
He could not help his mind from wandering as he reached the base of Knucker Hill.
He daydreamed of Avice’s lips on his, of her writhing against his hardened cock, of her excitement at the words he told her, and lastly, the image that always stayed the longest, her belly rounding with his Knuckerling.
She had looked so perfect, the way she held Mary to her chest, and it made him purr at the thought of her doing that with their own offspring.
Mary grunted and wriggled in his paw. “Nearly there, little one,” he reassured as he loped his way up the slope.
Life had exploded across the hill. Swathes of daisies, lavender, and bluebells accentuated the soft grass under his paws.
Rabbits bolted at his approach, as like all animals they could spot him even when he moved unseen by human eyes through the landscape.
He reached the summit, and even his garden had increased in its richness.
The moss and tiny flowers now tickled his belly, and the blossoming trees brushed their branches at the pinnacle of the protection ward.
He paused for a moment, dumbfounded. Had he and Avice done this?
Was it their magic? Their passion? Was it – dare he think it – their love?
He had never seen anything like the raw fecundity that now dominated the area.
It pulsed with life, humming up through his paws from his snout to his tail tip.
He rolled his coils, feeling a tingle down his long spine, before loping down the flagstone path to the entrance of his well.
The vines that grew around the stone arch opening had multiplied tenfold, each leaf bigger than his paws, and large violet flowers popped up in between the foliage.
The dandelion offerings from Avice – back before the endless Winter – were huge, each flower bigger than her hands.
They smelled delightful. He snuffed at them as he dashed passed and descended into his Kingdom.
Trewoofe’s nesting cavern reeked of Tall One: rancid flesh and rotting bone. He flicked his tongue in and out of his mouth, trying to rid himself of the foul taste. Clearly, the Faeries had been running rampant in his Kingdom in his absence, even daring to invade his private chamber.
He dug his talons into the earth as he stalked past his nest. It had been pilfered.
The geodes embedded amongst the ancient branches had been ripped away.
He had been so excited to show Avice his home, and now it was ruined.
He suppressed a snarl, catching it in his throat, not wanting to wake Mary.
Trewoofe had taken this path through his cavern as it was the shortest way to Bucca-led, and now he was glad he did.
He would be going directly to the Tall One’s territory after making sure Mary was safe.
They had much to answer for, and at least one would be forfeiting his life for his crime against Avice.
Deep in the Underneath, Trewoofe emerged from the crystal-lined tunnel and out into the gargantuan cavern that held Bucca-led.
The water was smoother than the inside of a shell, and the surface shimmered like jewels.
The lake reflected the glitter of the dramatic dagger-shaped stalactites that hung from the looming ceiling.
He approached the shore and flicked a crystal pebble with a talon tip.
It sloshed into the water, disappearing with a plop.
Air bubbled up, popping at the surface in honey tones, making his ears twitch at the pleasant sound.
“Buccas!” he called, his voice echoing down into the depths.
More bubbles came, each larger than the last, bursting with deeper notes as their size increased.
The scale of noises roused Mary, who had been sleeping soundly, and she let out a squall that made him flinch.
He opened his paw, studying the baby. She shoved her chubby arms from the blanket, tossing her clenched fists in rage.
Her chest was ragged in its pattern, and she sucked in laboured breaths.
Avice had taught him what that meant. He flicked out his tongue, brushing it over the crown of her skull, his healing saliva easing her discomfort.
Trewoofe knew he needed to give her to a Good Neighbour with changing magic as soon as possible.
Mary settled once again, bright green eyes looking up at him through her eye sockets.
“We will make you well, and soon,” Trewoofe promised.
A ripple caught his attention, and gentle waves lapped the talons of his forepaw.
Two eyes, obsidian and round, met his. They were set in a half-submerged brown face, topped with a mop of lake grass hair.
Another Bucca popped up beside him. Her face was lined with age, and one eye was cloudy from the many turns of seasons she had seen.
Then, a third. He was the most youthful of the three, his hair as bright as new shoots and eyes refracting the crystalline stalactites that plunged into the lake.
“Welcome, King Trewoofe,” they said in a chorus.
The Bucca Queen and her Prince Consorts cut easily through the water, only the slightest of ripples indicating their movements. A dozen more green-haired heads emerged from the depths behind them, but stayed where they had surfaced, watching intently with wide eyes.
“We heard what you did for us,” they continued, using their webbed, clawed hands to heave themselves from the water.
He cocked his head. “Did for you?”
“Yes, the iron and oil poison. You stopped it. We are glad to see you well,” they sang together.
Of course you did. Trewoofe knew what salacious gossips his subjects were.
Once the trio were clear of the lake, they slithered to him. They looked human, at least until their waists. From there – and down – they were eel-like, a single long tail propelling their movements.
“I did, and now I come to ask something of you.”
The Bucca Queen came closer, hairless brows drawn together. “What is it, Lord?” they asked in chorus.
“A human’s offspring. She has been Faerie marked,” he explained, lowering his paw so the Queen could see.
She slithered forward, flanked by her males, and heaved herself up on the edge of his paw. Her claws dug into the pad of his toe, making him bristle.
She brushed the back of her webbed hand down Mary’s skull.
“So sweet,” they cooed together. She tilted her head, so her good eye could study the baby.
“But what is this?” they asked. She pointed at the leaf mark on her chest. “This is a mark from the Greenfolk. How cruel of them to begin the change but not continue.”
“Greenfolk?” Trewoofe had not heard of them before, but the Bucca Queen had lived many more turns of season then he had. “Can you tell me more about them?”
“My knowledge is only handed down from my mother. The Green is where Spring goes to rest when she is done with her season. The Greenfolk serve her while she recovers,” they replied as a trio.
The Prince Consorts slithered up next, supporting their weight on his paw so they could observe the child. Using their own voices in a series of squeaks and whistles, they fussed over Mary, and she grasped at their waving fingers.
“She is lovely.”
Trewoofe stored the Queen’s words away, determined to give the information to Avice.
He was certain her sharp mind could figure it all out.
That she could put the pieces together to see how the marked children – Good Neighbour and human alike – and the long Winter were connected, as she had suggested to him before.
“She cannot breathe properly this way, the skull is too heavy,” Trewoofe explained. “Would you consider taking her in?”
The Queen blinked up at him, before chittering and clicking with her Prince consorts. “We could give her gills and webbed hands, she would be like us,” they replied in chorus.
“That may be the best chance she has. I have helped her as much as I can.” Trewoofe looked tenderly down at her and flicked his tongue at her in farewell. “You will be safe with them, Mary.”
With a coo, the younger Prince Consort lifted the bundled baby, glancing between his Queen and fellow male. “We will look after her. Mary will be Bucca,” they said.
“I will visit her in the future, and I know she will grow well under your care.”
The trio dipped their heads in deference and slithered back into the lake.
Their bodies had been clumsy on the shore, but once they slipped back into deeper waters, they moved with the seamless grace of a bird on the wind.
The rest of their pod circled them and let out a series of clicks, the sounds reverberating off the crystalline stalactites and making the lake surface ripple and chime.
Trewoofe watched as the Queen flicked her webbed fingers, and a bubble formed around Mary’s head.
The pod tightened around their royal trio, spinning in a pattern that reminded him of the swirling seed of an ash tree caught on the breeze.
A whirlpool formed as they swam faster, and one by one they slipped below the surface with dulcet pops, leaving a crackle of blue in their wake.
He pricked his ears as all had dived but the Queen and her Prince Consorts.
In a blink, they disappeared with Mary snug in the younger male’s arms.
A final wave lapped at his paws, and Trewoofe stared on in wonder.
He had seen much in his many turns of seasons, but occasionally his subjects still surprised him.
He had never swum in the depths of Bucca-led – after all it was their territory, and they preferred their privacy – but he was curious at exactly how they lived down there.
Trewoofe stretched out the forelimb and paw that had clasped Mary to his chest, working out the stiffness. He continued to straighten his long body, sending a roll down his coils, the lustre of them refracting the sparkle from the shimmering lake and stalactites.
The Knucker flicked his tongue out, tasting the air and finding the fastest tunnel to take him to Tall-led, the domain of the Tall Ones and their Queen. As he stomped out of the cavern, he made sure to rake his talons over the stone walls, sharpening the tips to a feral point.