Chapter 71
Trewoofe
Trewoofe continued to shelter Avice from the thumping rain as they strode through the woods. The muddy path was made easier for them as the flora bent to allow their passage through.
“Where would you like to plant it?” Trewoofe asked.
Luckily, the rain did not bother him. His scales were waterproof, and the droplets simply slid off them. Avice was not so fortunate, and though she wore a cloak and boots, she was soaked. Trewoofe was worried she may ‘catch her death’, as Joan had commented.
“I am not sure,” Avice murmured.
“On top of Knucker Hill?’ Trewoofe offered. “The seed would be safe there.”
“No,” she replied.
“Why not?” he huffed. “My magic is stronger than ever. It would be safe there. Do you not trust me?”
“Oh, my darling…” Avice patted his leg as they strode onward. “Of course I trust you. It is not that.”
“Then what is it?”
“I have been… plotting,” she stated.
“Plotting?” Trewoofe chuckled. “You will have to give me more than ‘plotting’.”
“On how I can still help my mothers and babies and still be with you in the Underneath.”
His tail swished excitedly, he just wanted Avice to be happy. So, if that is what made her happy, he would move paradise and Albion to make it happen.
“And you will have to explain more than that,” Trewoofe prompted.
“Things are different now,” she continued.
“The villagers can come to fetch me from Knucker Hill if they need my services without fear of punishment from the church. If the seed becomes a Spriggan Queen, she may well draw the males to her. I feel it would be… well, insensitive to have them where the mothers who lost their children may see them.”
Trewoofe immediately understood. “I suppose your garden is also disqualified for this reason.”
“Exactly,” Avice agreed. “I also have plans for my cottage and garden.”
“My, my,” he teased. “You have been plotting. What are your plans?”
“Hati and Nell both want to learn my witching. So, we will have lessons there. I may even hold a monthly clinic for villagers and Good Neighbours to visit with their ailments,” she explained.
“My home is the Underneath, and our nest.” Trewoofe chuffed happily at her words.
“But I am glad I can walk in both worlds without fear.”
They hiked for some time through the woods. Neither of them was sure of where they were going. Trewoofe knew that Avice was trying to spot somewhere safe and secluded for them to plant the seed. It was then, an idea struck him of where it could go.
“I know where we can take the Spriggan’s seed.” He curled his neck and looked down at a damp Avice under his chest. “Safe, secluded, and far from the village.”
She peeked out from beneath her hood. “Lead the way.”
Gentle grief dogged his steps as his paws squelched in the mud.
Trewoofe – still sheltering Avice beneath his chest – entered the glade where his family had been slaughtered.
While that ache was still there, and always would be, his soul-bound’s presence was a soothing salve.
That just by being there, she eased the itching scars over his heart.
Avice rooted to the spot. “My Lord, are you sure?”
“I think…” He peered down his muzzle at her. “…the bones of Lindana and my daughters would look after the Spriggan’s seed.”
She pulled back her sopping hood and met his eye. “This is a great kindness.” She stepped from under him and squinted through the misty grey. “Is there a spot you had in mind?”
“Up the knoll.” He pointed with his snout. “The Sun touches the soil the most there.” He stepped over Avice again, once more sheltering her beneath him. “At least, when the Sun is out.”
She walked with him up the steady slope. Trewoofe hoped it did not exhaust his little witch too much. She hiked most of the day, tucked beneath his chest to shelter her from the pelting rain.
Typical Albion weather.
The constant shower begun to seep through his scales, and the light was rapidly dimming. One way or another, they had been on their feet from Sunrise to Sunset, and even he was beginning to feel the ache of the long day.
“Here?” Avice asked, pointing to a flat, grassy spot.
“It will do,” Trewoofe agreed with a dip of his head.
He dug his talons into the soil, scooping out the rich, soaked earth. He tossed it aside where it landed with a splat against the viridian grass and yellow daffodils.
Avice squinted into the hole. “Do you think it is deep enough?”
“One more should do it.” With that, he scooped again, doubling the size of the hollow. “Alright, little witch. Let us do what we promised.”
She nodded, pulled back her sopping cloak, and extracted the linen covered seed.
Avice gently unwrapped it, careful not to touch it directly with her bare skin.
The moment it was exposed to the rain, the seed sparked with green magic and let out a call that reminded Trewoofe of the buzzing bees.
She flapped the seed loose from the cloth, and it fell inside the hole with a wet thump.
The seed illuminated the hollow, casting the interior with an eerie green light.
Trewoofe slopped the mud back in, packing the soil as tightly as possible.
He patted the top with his paw and flicked his tongue at it. “I would consider our task done.”
Avice threw her arms around his mud-caked leg. “Thank you, Lord.”
Trewoofe brushed his tongue over her face. “It is my duty and my pleasure.” He arched his neck towards the sky. “It’s getting late,” he observed. “Perhaps we should stay the night.”
“I do not think I could face the trudge home,” she agreed. “The only problem is, where do we rest?”
Trewoofe huffed and scanned the tree line. “Perhaps I could tear off some branches and make a shelter?”
“Not a bad idea.” Her face brightened. “Let me try something first. If it does not work, we will go to your suggestion.”
“Of course. Is there anything you need from me?”
She marched quickly down the knoll. “Just stay close by, in case I faint.”
“Little witch!” He squelched after her, his paws sinking into the sodden grass. “What are you doing that would make you faint?’
She stopped where the glade swept into the towering forest. “I am going to ask a tree to give us shelter and it may make me tired.”
Trewoofe stared down at her, dumbstruck. “Ask a tree?”
Avice blinked up at him as though he were a little foolish. “Yes, ask a tree,” she confirmed, as though it were obvious.
He huffed, his hot breath mingling with the misty air.
“Then, by all means.” He tossed his head in the direction of the woods.
Avice beamed up at him, and he melted at her enthusiasm.
Yes, he was hungry and tired, but he should not be grumpy with her.
After all, she was just trying to help. “You know I am always here for you.”
Avice took a deep breath as she turned back to the trees.
He watched as she gripped her pendant and clutched his scales for support.
She stuck out her mud-smeared chin with a grim determination.
Trewoofe flicked his tongue curiously as her tattoo glowed.
Shining even through her many layers of clothing.
The air tasted sharper, and her magic crackled against his forks.
“GIVE US SHELTER.”
Trewoofe’s tail lashed at her voice. Her power crackled through the air and pulsed into the woods and beyond. He tensed, curling his tail protectively around Avice as he waited for the outcome of her call.
One heartbeat.
Two.
A boom ripped through the forest. Trewoofe snarled into the gloom. Then he was thankful for his ability to see in the dark, otherwise, he would not have trusted his own eyes.
“Avice, you would not believe—”
A massive oak crashed into the glade, scuttling forward on its muddied root-tips.
For the life of him, its movements reminded him of a spider.
Trewoofe tugged Avice back as it teetered for a moment, concerned it may fall over and squash them.
It settled and balanced on its roots. The tree knelt, and presented a cavernous hollow for them to rest in.
“Nature’s blessing, Avice!” Trewoofe exclaimed. “You certainly did ask a tree.”
She wobbled, and he caught her before she slipped. “I suppose I did. At least it will be dry in there.”
“Let me inspect it first, to make sure it is safe,” he insisted, shepherding her over to the hollow.
“Trewoofe,” Avice scolded, “I have just used my magic to relocate one of the biggest trees in the woods. I can keep myself safe.”
“Little witch, humour your soul-bound?” he asked pleadingly. She rolled her eyes but acquiesced. “Thank you.”
He stuck his head into the hollow and flicked his tongue. The air was earthy and tasted of rotting leaves. It was surprisingly spacious, and both he and Avice would fit inside comfortably.
“It is safe, dry, and warm,” he confirmed, lowering his head to the sodden soil. “Hold onto to me, I will lift you inside.”
“Are you sure it is safe, no mad squirrels that may bite me?” Avice teased, clambering onto his snout and gripping tight.
“Hush,” he chuckled as he lifted his head, shoved his muzzle inside, and safely deposited her amongst the dead leaves. “Comfortable?”
“Surprisingly…” – she patted down the crunchy leaves – “yes.”
His stomach let out an angry growl.
“I am ravenous,” Trewoofe announced, “and I am sure you are too.”
Avice pressed a hand to her belly. “Starved. We have not eaten all day.”
“I will return shortly,” he promised. “There was a selection of fruit trees on the way here, I will bring some back.” Trewoofe licked the top of her head. “Get dry and get warm.”
She pressed a kissed to his snout. “Yes, Lord.”
By the time Trewoofe returned to the hollow – carrying a large branch laden with plums in his jaws – Avice had made their shelter positively cosy.
Somehow, she managed to get a merry fire going.
She wore only her chemise, and draped her dress, stockings and borrowed cloak over a notch in the rough wood.
Her boots and medical satchel steamed by the fire as they dried.
She was wringing her hair out by the time Trewoofe deposited the branch inside.
“How in Albion did you manage to get a fire going with all this damp?” he asked, hauling himself out of the rain.
“A little Wisp ash, it encourages everything to burn. Luckily, the contents of my satchel were dry, and I had a tinderbox in there.”
“My little witch is clever,” Trewoofe purred proudly. He sent a roll down his coils, ridding himself of the worst of the drops that clung to him. “I bring you the spoils of my gathering.”
Her face brightened as she took in huge purple plums. “Those look amazing! Thank you, Lord.”
“You are most welcome.”
Trewoofe flicked his tongue out, grabbed a plum, and chomped it down.
He let out a satisfied murmur as it melted easily in his mouth.
The juices reminded him of honey and Summertime.
He eyed the fire and longed to warm his paws by it, but not before he ensured Avice had something to eat.
Using a talon, he cut several of them free of the branch and rolled them over to her with a nudge of his snout.
He chuckled as she gathered them up eagerly.
Avice plucked one from the leaf litter, brushed it off, and bit into it.
Trewoofe’s crest fluttered pink and purple at the delighted noises she made as it slid down her throat.
They were identical to the ones he had her making the previous night.
Now, for the life of him, he could not wipe the image of rutting her beneath him from his mind.
Not the time or place! he scolded himself, hunching over so he could curl up by the fire.
Avice plonked herself next to him and pressed her back against his scarred belly.
Her arms were full of huge plums, each larger than her balled fist. Trewoofe snatched one with his tongue and chomped it down.
She munched at her second serving of the fruit and let out a satisfied sigh as she tossed away the stone.
She deposited the rest beside her, and Trewoofe helped himself to a few more as Avice wiggled her toes in front of the fire.
Once he had enough of the fruit to satiate his hunger, he curled his head around so he could admire his lovely soul-bound. She had not spoken for a while and he wondered why. When he eyed her expression – her face scrunched in thoughtfulness – he knew Avice was thinking about something.
Curiosity niggled at him. “I can hear your mind turning,” Trewoofe quipped. “I would love to know your thoughts.”
“There are some mysteries not yet answered,” Avice mused. “But that is not what I am thinking about. What I am thinking about, is how much I love you” – Trewoofe purred so loudly, it rustled the leaf litter – “and how lucky I am to have you in my life—”
“I am the fortunate one, little witch,” he interrupted.
Avice nudged him playfully. “I have not finished telling you what I was thinking.” Trewoofe pricked his ears, eager to hear more as she continued. “You know I will never marry.”
“I would not ask you to do something that makes you lesser than me,” he agreed.
He had been thoroughly disgusted at the concept of human marriage after he had learnt about it from Avice. He would never ask her to submit, or to be a less than what she was.
“I had been thinking. Is there a Knucker custom? One where we can show our love and commitment to one another?” she asked.
Trewoofe blinked back the tears that threatened to fall.
His pupil contracted on her. Mud was smeared across her chin, and her hair was a tangled mess, but he could not love her more, and she had never been lovelier than she was at that very moment – all wild and witching, using the woods itself as her home.
Her skin glowed in the flickering firelight, and her brown eyes were deeper than even the roots of ancient trees could dig.
“There is. We call it a Tail Tie,” Trewoofe replied.
“Knuckers wind their tails together and declare their love. It can be done in front of others, or just between themselves. When the statement is made, it is understood that the partnership will be one that will last until the death of one or both.”
Avice nodded approvingly. “Simple, practical, and effective.” She grinned at him. “I love it…” A line appeared between her brows. “Though, I do not have a tail.”
Trewoofe snorted at that. “I can change, and we could tie our hands?” he offered playfully, before the magnitude of her words reached him. “My mind has only just caught up to what you were saying. You wish to Tail Tie with me?”
Avice rolled her eyes at him. “Yes, Lord.” She let out a jaw cracking yawn, laid on her side, and pressed her back to his belly. “I thought that much was obvious.”
Trewoofe curled around his soul-bound further and watched as her eyes closed. He had never been happier. He had never dreamed that Avice may tail – or hand – tie with him. Excitement buzzed through his scales, and he did not think he would get a wink of sleep that night.