Chapter 1
Sylvain
The couple sitting in the booth are holding hands across it, the glow of the candle alighting on her cheeks, in such a way that she looks positively cherubic with love. I cleared my throat, snapping them both out of their love-soaked reverie.
“Have you enjoyed your meal this evening?” I repeat.
The man can barely tear his eyes away from her. “Oh! Yes, it’s been great, man, thanks for asking.”
I take a deep bow. “If you need anything else, just ask for Sylvain.” I glide away from the table, eyes darting around the busy room to check on the rest of the tables before making eye contact with Gale, my house manager, and tipping my head toward the door that leads out back.
She nods back at me with a smirk and slight eye roll.
One last glance at the bar side tells me we are getting busier, but not out of control.
I have time to slip away for a breather.
The door from the kitchen leads directly into the forest, where I break into a sprint, flying through the underbrush.
Despite the smooth, unruffled exterior I project that most of the patrons of Coldwater Springs have come to know and love, I get rather sick of being around them constantly.
Their inane problems in life, especially surrounding love.
I’ve seen it all: couples who are madly in love for one minute and then break up the next.
Of course, to them, time is stretched out, taking dozens of years for them to figure out the patterns in their behaviors.
For me, I can spot trouble within the first thirty seconds of meeting any human.
Over the centuries, the continuously repetitive cycles make my head hurt.
Humans never learn. But, they do love to eat and drink, so the restaurant and bar keep me busy, albeit closer to the human world than I ever was before.
I slow my speed, about a half-mile from town, deep in the forest. It’s quiet here, and the sounds of traffic and people are completely muffled by the old growth.
Pausing at an inconspicuous point, I close my eyes and mutter the simple prayer that causes the air to shimmer as matter folds in on itself, revealing a portal.
Stepping through feels like coming home. I shake off my human disguise, the ground shrinking beneath me as I grow, the familiar itchy feeling where my antlers sprout forth, and the stretching of my skin as the muscles expand. I take deep breaths, inhaling the perfumed, clean air, cleansing my body.
Even though we’re in late summer and nature in the human world is starting its cycle of decay, in this holy space, it is perpetually spring.
Conjuring my trusty wicker basket, I kneel in the soft earth and start harvesting some of the rarest mushrooms in the world: Blue Chanterelles, lavender-hued Whispering Velvets, and the intense yet earthly Stag’s Crown.
I’m asked constantly where I’m able to source my mushrooms, and so far, I’ve played it off, but I can’t help but spoil my chef, Remy.
Time is lost to me as I work, and I relish how my heart beats a little slower, how the occasional vivid butterfly lands on my hands, blessing me with this beautiful abundance.
All around me exists a food garden fit for a king, but I only take the smallest portions for the restaurant, allowing the rest to grow wild.
At times, I wish there was someone out there for me to share this special place with, but I know that can never be possible, and the thought sinks in my stomach like a stone thrown into a river.
My basket is only half full, but I have a variety of mushrooms that will please Remy for their specialty dish they’re making for this weekend.
Some end-of-summer event is happening in town, and Remy wants to ensure we have a top-tier dish to entice any “yuppie” out-of-towners, as they like to call them.
I chortle as the memory of our meal prep conversation comes back to me.
Remy is a good human, one of the few that I not only enjoy but seek out their company, although they do keep a busy social calendar.
I try to stand back up and hear my knees click and groan with displeasure. “You’re getting old,” I say to myself. A sparkling creek runs through this protected space, filled with rainbow fish of every variety. I decide to sit on a flattened boulder, letting my feet swish in the crystalline water.
Suddenly, I’m back in time, centuries ago, to a festival in my honor.
Humans adorned in crowns woven from branches, towering baskets of fruits and vegetables, and drum music humming throughout the day and well into the next.
All in celebration of that space and time, all in harmony.
How could I have known that would be the last celebration in my honor?
A tear trickles down my nose, and I swipe it away, determined to focus on the present.
Just as I settle myself, smiling with delight at the fish who’ve come up to say hello and heal my sadness, I hear a branch snap behind me, and I see a human stepping through the portal.
The first thing I notice is her worn sandals clutched in one hand and a curtain of straight jet black hair falling past her waist. A light sheen is on her browned skin, and I immediately notice the smile lines next to her eyes as she turns around in wonder.
She still hasn’t spotted me, and I’m frozen to the spot, still trying to figure out how this gorgeous human breached the protective veil.
Finishing her spin, her eyes finally land on me, twisted awkwardly on the rock, watching her.
“Oh, hey.” She looks me up and down, and I realize with horror that I’m in my true form.
“Sorry, this is definitely a mistake, me in here. This place is awesome, though. You some kind of guardian? Or faun? No, they have hooves.” She pauses again, looking at the ground, wiggling her toes happily in the earth.
“Hey, listen, do you know anything about cars? Human cars?” She doesn’t wait for a response, just continues to keep talking, and I realize that based on how my heart is fluttering, I’m in big trouble.