4.
Moth
A pparently, people simply do not walk through the woods for no reason at night. I do not understand why —enjoying nature and the stars above, is a perfectly reasonable thing to do. But I am thankful to Sprout for providing me with an adequate excuse to slip away.
Surely, I will arrive on the other side of the portal to find Heather safely surrounded by our friends while having a wonderful, calm evening. But the shake in my limbs does not go away as I allow myself to fully transform.
I do not know what dangers I will be facing, but I will not risk being bound in something as fragile as flesh when I face them.
She is fine.
I am sure she is fine.
She must be fine. There are no other acceptable options.
I stomp through the castle grounds, the words as my silent mantra.
Glancing around the courtyard, it is just as I imagined it would be. Ruby sits back sipping tea from a golden mug next to Widow. While Clara chats next to her, Holly looks windswept; she combs the garden for something, her gaze finally landing on me.
“Brother—what are you doing here?” she says, her breath ragged. The mortals, who are not accustomed to seeing me in this form, gawk at first, but I do not transform back.
“Moth?” Rosie says, looking more curious than frightened at my appearance. It is not as if the humans haven’t stopped over unannounced and seen me at home in this form, but I imagine it is still strange.
“Sprout alerted me there was a problem,” I reply, following my sister’s gaze. Everyone is scattered through the garden looking winded, but calm. Sprout, however, continues to paw at my leg. “Where is Heather?”
“That is the question.” Holly scoffs, crossing her arms tight around her chest.
“You do not know?” My fists clench at her flippant response. I remind myself not to panic—what could have possibly happened within the course of a few hours? Anything, my mind reminds me as my vision blinks red.
“Sprout is probably calling in support to win the game.” Clara rises from her seat. “I gave up half an hour ago! Heather is way too good at this.”
“A game?” My voice grows sharper with every word. This world has just as many threats as ours, but with my memory foggy, the details evade me. I trust my flame, but I do not want her to be alone in a place where unknown shadows could threaten her light.
“We’ve been playing Marry the King in the hedge maze,” Ruby explains. “Something I don’t think I’ve done since we were young.”
Recollection tugs at the edge of my mind: a young Ruby with her eyes covered, counting to ten as I rushed to hide amongst the hedges, a dark green ribbon bound across my eyes. Warm nostalgia blooms through my chest. Sometimes, Oak would join us and we three would take turns in this strange mashup of hide and seek and tag. If memory serves, we had … fun.
That should be all that’s going on. Still, I cannot shake my worry. If it is a simple game, why would Sprout be in such distress?
“And no one has been able to find her?” I press, staring at our friends and hoping for a reasonable answer. When I am met with silence, I stretch my wings, ready to search from the air.
“Moth, that’s cheating!” Ruby teases. Then, she glances up at the moon. “But, come to think of it, it has been a while…” Ruby unfurls her own wings. She glances to Oak, who is filling in the gaps of a painting that must have been started earlier in the evening. “Perhaps we should call this off…”
“Not yet. Rosie and I are still—” Clara begins, cracking her knuckles. I have seen her at game night and fear that, if the call is left to her, she will search for Heather all night.
“How long is a while?” I cut off Clara. I am barely able to focus with the way Sprout is pawing at my leg, demanding my attention. S omething is not right here.
Heather is not known to play these kinds of tricks. If she wanted to hide and have me stalk her through the woods like a monster, all she would have had to do was ask. And she would— she has . She knows I would be more than willing.
“Oh…” Holly is next to glance at the moon, while the humans check their watches and cell phones. My sister blinks slowly. “It has … been a while,” There is a wideness of her eyes that confirms something is wrong. I notice there are leaves in her hair and brambles stuck to the tulle of her dress.
“An hour-ish I think,” Clara offers but seems unsure. “ Right ?”
“We were all hiding in the hedge maze and goofing around,” Rosie says, breathless. I start to get the feeling that 90 minutes is a healthy underestimation. “But, but, it just kept getting later and … do you think something happened?”
Sprout barks, demanding attention. As the most reasonable member of this party, I cast my gaze down.
“What is it you are trying to tell us, my friend?” I ask. After all, he is the only one who appears to be taking Heather’s disappearance seriously.
He darts into the maze, and without hesitation, I follow. The party guests race behind me, huffing to catch their breath. He runs far and fast and I worry that perhaps she has had one of her dizzy spells, and that at any moment, we will stumble across her fallen body. Compared to what I see when Sprout comes to a stop, that would have been a relief.
Sprout whines and paws at the dirt, and I can smell salt in the air. Portal dust . While I was worrying myself over florals and decorations, my flame was being taken right out from under our noses.
“Sprout.”
He whines again, a high-pitched sound, pawing at the ground. The large ball of fluff circles around the area before finally hanging his head. Is he worried he has disappointing me?
The party guests would undoubtably still think this was a game if not for my trusted companion.
I pat Sprout’s furry head, and he lets out a resigned huff.
“Well done, my friend,” I say, and I feel him relax, if only slightly. I bend down to examine what is left of the portal. It is no secret that I am not well-versed in this magic, but the overpowering scent of seawater is hard to ignore. There is something slightly different to this odor than when Holly or Mother come to visit—a tang of iron in the air. The party gathers around Sprout and me, but it is only the faeries who understand the gravity of the dust that has settled on the ground.
“Remnants of a portal… one Heather seems to have been pulled though,” I say, unable to fully grasp the words that have left my throat.
“I’m surprised he didn’t leap in after her,” Oak says, ruffling Sprout’s fur in his hands. “You did a good job, boy.” He continues offering the animal affirmations in a high-pitched voice until his tail begins to wag.
“It is possible Sprout could not follow.” Holly leans down, pinching the dust in her fingers. “The scent of blood in the air suggests this portal has been warded.”
“Warded?” I echo. I did not realize such magic was possible.
“It would mean only the person who created it can pass through,” she says. “If the captor held Heather in his arms, that may have granted her access. However, we haven’t answered the bigger question.” Her eyebrows pinch together as she meets my eyes. “Who would want to kidnap Heather?”