Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
SADIE
When I was a child, my family liked to visit funhouses, the ones full of strange mirrors and paid actors who jumped out from around corners.
I hated them. I hated the way my heart wouldn’t stop pounding in my chest. I swore that when I grew up, I’d never set foot in any funhouses, haunted houses, corn mazes, or any other scary places again. So far, I’ve been successful.
This whole experience is starting to feel the same way. Rooms that are too big to be true, strange noises, and now a patch of wall that shakes.
Fuck this. I’m getting out of here.
Just as soon as I find the door.
“Shit, shit, shit.” A minute ago, this felt like my own personal version of heaven. Now it’s hell. How can there not be an entrance?
“Wait,” a honeyed voice calls out. “Please. Don’t be scared.”
Knowing that there is an actual person here is both calming and upsetting. The good thing is it means my mind isn’t running completely wild. The bad thing is that I have no idea who could be here. Or where they’ve managed to hide.
I’ve seen this movie before, and I’m pretty sure it ends with a dead park ranger.
“Show yourself,” I demand. Come on, come on.
I try to get my brain to pull up the information from the annual self-defense seminars the Forest Service makes us take.
The thing is, I never thought I’d use any of it.
Usually, I tune out during those sessions.
In these parts, I’m more likely to come across a rabid moose than I am to find myself in the same room as an axe murderer.
Now I wish I’d committed more of the instructor’s advice to memory.
Didn’t he say something about keeping my hands up?
Or maybe down?
Fuck.
My eyes nearly fall out of my head when a section of the wall steps forward, the figure pulling away from the trunk.
She’s stunning—if she is even the correct term—her skin changing from a deep brown to a soft green, the color of the forest in early summer, when everything is lush and vibrant.
Her hair is a mess of vines, a mix of greens and browns, with bright flowers growing from the ends.
I even spot what I think are a few Pholiota mushrooms. It’s the whole forest come to life.
Even more proof that I’ve died and gone to some fucked-up version of heaven. Or hell, depending on what happens next.
“Please don’t be afraid.” She raises her arms, hands outstretched as though she’s trying to keep me from moving. “I won’t hurt you.”
Something deep in my gut tells me that’s true. She rescued me from the storm, took me in, and cared for me. If she wanted to hurt me, there are easier ways to go about it.
“Who are you?”
“Gillia. I’m a dryad, protector of the forest.”
I scour my brain for where I’ve heard that word before. Something from my Greek mythology class pings in my mind. What a time to realize that every bit of information I shoved into my head on the topic is completely gone. It fell out of my brain the minute the final exam ended.
The main thing I remember is that they are mythological, which is supposed to mean they do not exist. The woman standing in front of me is very real.
She takes a step toward me and looks down to where dark bark winds its way over her feet and ankles and up her calves, her very own version of knee-high boots.
I swallow hard, realizing that’s the only thing on her that even vaguely resembles clothes.
My fear-soaked brain finally relaxes enough to notice she’s naked.
It’s different from seeing a human person; her skin has a soft look to it, like the sort of plant that I might find along the edge of a fallen log.
It only serves to accentuate her curvy figure.
“What do you want with me?” I squeak out, trying to figure out where I can fix my gaze that might be considered respectful.
Despite my concern over what happens next, the butterflies in my stomach start to swirl.
My attraction to a dryad is something I’m not ready to examine. I’m blaming it on the hypothermia.
Gillia seems confused by the question, her head falling to one side as she examines me. “What do you mean?”
“Why am I here?”
“You were dying, back in the woods, next to one of my pines. I didn’t want to see you…go.”
Dying. I’m still coming to terms with a reality where I nearly lost my life. “Thank you.” The words fall short of what I really want to offer, but they’re all I’ve got. “I’m Sadie.”
Wait. My mind grinds to a halt, the sound of a record scratch ringing in my ears. “Have you been watching me?”
“A little.” She looks sheepish as she holds her fingers up, minimal space separating them.
Well, that explains a lot. Ever since I took this post, I’ve felt a presence.
Not like a ghost or anything, but I don’t feel alone when I’m out in the wilderness.
On my daily hikes and surveys, I’d been trying to get a better sense of what caused that sensation.
The closer I got to this area, the stronger the feeling became.
It’s why I was out today. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stay away. Not for long. I’d say something felt off, but it was more that something finally felt right. Something called me back.
Or maybe someone.
“Why? Why me?”
“You…” Gillia looks away from me, her gaze landing on the bed on the side of the room.
“You’re…different.” She steps back, giving me a little more space to breathe.
“I’m not holding you hostage. You can leave, though I recommend staying until the weather clears.
It would be an arduous trek back to your cabin. ”
I hesitate, unsure what I’m supposed to say to that. She’s right, of course. If I’m remembering the snow correctly, it would be nearly impossible to walk back with the gear I currently have.
“If you are afraid, I can leave you alone. It’s safe, and you’ll be protected from the elements.”
I resist the urge to ask how she knows where I live.
Thousands of questions are swirling in my mind, but none of them are important.
“I’m not scared.” As I say the words, I realize how true they are.
A little timid and unsure, but not afraid.
At least not of Gillia. “I’m grateful you rescued me.
I’d probably be dead if it weren’t for you. ”
“So, you will stay? With me?”
“For now.”