Chapter 7
Sylvain
The silky strands of her long hair flow through my fingers like the water in my creek, the very thing I had wanted to do when we first met, and now I am still inside her as we lie together, breathing softly.
Neither of us has made a move to leave, anchored to the bed by a feeling I can’t quite put my finger on.
After a while, she raises her head, giving me a bashful look. “Do you want to get up?” Her voice low and husky..
“Not particularly, but we can if you’d like to.” I continue to caress her hair until her stomach gives a loud grumble, making us both laugh. “How about we shower, and then we take this food to the garden for a little evening picnic? Remy will never forgive me if you don’t get to eat any of this.”
Amaya traces my eyebrows, the curves of my cheeks. “I love that idea.”
I am awkward at first in the shower, having never done this with anyone ever, but the ice is quickly broken when I nearly slip and take us both down.
We decide I should sit in the tub, which suits me just fine, as I get a full view of her soaped up and wet.
Rivulets of water stream down her long hair, connecting to the small curve of her back and dripping off her generous bottom.
I can’t help but trace along her body as she showers, possibly in an effort to memorize every curve of this body that has enraptured me so.
I take the washcloth from her when it’s time to wash her legs and feet, relishing in her tiny toes and muscular calves. Then it's my turn for my hair to be washed, and she takes extra care to work around my antlers, ensuring nothing gets snarled.
“You have never asked me why I am this way.” I blurt out suddenly, as she works conditioner into my hair.
She pauses, finger-combing out the tangles. “I guess it felt too personal? At first, I thought you were a spirit, but then you have a car and other people can see you, so that was out. It’s not that unusual for my people to believe in guardians and spirits; it's part of the natural world to us.”
I catch her hands in mine. “I want to tell you everything, but I think it will make more sense when we get into the woods.”
She plants a kiss on my forehead. “Okay.”
We finish up in the shower, getting dressed and repacking the food along with a blanket we find in the closet. The trek into the woods is short, taking the same path that Amaya followed this morning.
“This is where it was this morning, I think.” We pause near a copse of densely packed trees and bushes, where the trail has grown faint.
“What did you think about?” I prompt.
“I-” She stops, eyebrows scrunched up in thought.
“I was thinking about a lot of things, being happy to be in the woods, which made me think about how I wanted to share this with my Mom, and then I thought about how I was hungry and how I really wanted some of her nopales con huevos, and then suddenly this bright patch of…” Her words trail off because the moon has slid out from behind a cloud, shining a moonbeam right into the garden.
There isn’t even a shimmering portal; it’s just right there for Amaya to see.
“And then that happened.” She looks at me abashed.
I smile at her. “I can see why the garden chose you. You have a natural connection to the earth. Come on, it will seal up behind us and keep us safe while we’re in here.”
Small torches light a path as we wind our way to the center, where I can see the cactus has now grown to twice its size since we last saw it and is glowing, loaded down with prickly pear fruit. Just glancing around, I see a few other magical additions.
Amaya’s jaw hangs open as she spins in place.
“Sylvain, it did not look like this even this morning. What is going on? Also, why is it by the hotel now? I thought it was way over on the other side of town?” She runs over to a new tree full of heart-shaped golden peaches, plucks one, and sinks her teeth into its tender flesh.
“This…this is a desert peach, but it has a honey taste to it.”
“The garden moves as it pleases, but come, let us sit and eat.”
We spread the blanket as the fireflies dance around us. I carefully place the boxes of food in the middle, and we settle down to eat.
“Here,” I say, holding out the precious rainbow trout amuse bouche that Remy is so insistent that Amaya eat. Amaya takes it delicately on her tongue, eyes wide with pleasure as the flavors burst across her tongue.
“This is amazing! Are they making this for the end-of-summer festival?” Her hand reaches for another.
“I think so. I probably should ask them their plans,” I say wryly.
“You don’t organize the events?”
“No, I usually let Gale and Remy handle it all. Stay in the background and track the budget.”
“Oh.” She stays quiet, analyzing me with her sharp eyes. “So…you’re a forest hermit then?”
I balk and then see her twitching lip and realize it is a joke. “Honestly, maybe. But no, not a forest hermit technically. A forest god.”
Her fork of summer salad drops. “You’re a god? Wow…that didn’t even cross my mind at all. I have so many questions? How old are you? Wait…maybe I don’t wanna know. Do you have powers? Why do you shift? Are you a god of all forests, or just this forest?”
I hold up my hands to stem the flow of questions and to allow myself to finish chewing. “Okay, okay. One at a time.” I pause to take another bite, and she smacks me playfully on my thigh.
“Come on! We don’t have all night, and I will have more questions.”
“How about for every question you ask, I get to ask you one?” There is still so much about her I don’t know, and I find that I am desperate for answers.
She gets quiet, staring off into the gently burbling creek. With a heavy sigh, she says, “Alright, if you insist. Me first, why are you and this garden connected here in Clearwater Springs?”
I blow air out through my cheeks. “Just getting right into it, are we? Well, I don’t know why there is a higher concentration of gods and other beings in Clearwater. I should probably look into that, but–”
Amaya holds up a hand, her eyebrows having disappeared nearly into her hairline. “WHAT. You just said gods, plural. And other beings.”
Nodding, I unpack the next box that is filled with the Venison and River Crawfish and cream sauce.
“Yes, Nahuél just freed himself recently. It’s been ages since he was free, and he comes into the restaurant occasionally with his girlfriend, Lena.
I think you would like her; she’s a very accomplished scientist. ”
“Nahuél?” She says breathlessly, cream dripping steadily off her fork, caught midway to her mouth. “A god with a scientist girlfriend?”
“Yes, he’s the god of rivers, and something else, I can’t remember.” I let out a short laugh at the irony. “He is forgotten, like me. Anyway. What was I saying? You are distracting me.”
She snorts a chortle that causes us both to laugh.
“I’ve been known to do that. You were explaining why there are so many gods, plural in this area, and I had to get over my shock at hearing that, but I’m ready to receive more information.
Please continue.” Her eyes dance with mirth as she waves her hands like a conductor at me, prompting me to keep talking.
I clear my throat, suppressing a wry smile.
“Back when people believed in gods, even minor ones like myself, we had special areas where our magic and strength were strongest. This was my area, although over the years it has not stayed in the same place anymore. I think she is getting more mischievous as the years go on. But, my people, my worshippers, would bring me gifts, ask for prayers, and they would pray to me for a good hunt, abundant food for gathering. Several times in a cycle, they would hold festivals to honor the changing seasons and nature. It all provides power to my magic; without it, well, strange things happen to us. ” I stop talking because my voice is raspy.
Trying to clear it I suck down some water and look around for something to focus on besides Amaya’s soulful eyes that are looking at me with pity.
“How did the restaurant start?” Her words are so soft, I almost don’t hear.
But I shake my head. “My turn. Why do you think my garden grew a cactus for you? I thought you hated Arizona.”
She puts down her fork and plate and scoots over to the paddle cactus, pulling a wicker basket and metal tongs that seem to have materialized from nowhere. She snaps off a ripe fruit with expert care and holds it up to me in the light. The minuscule spines shine like tiny daggers.
“I don’t hate it, not really. It’s very beautiful in its own way, but it's hard to see it, or even have time to connect with the desert when you live in the city. And the city is where the jobs are.” She places the deep magenta fruit in the basket with care.
“The desert is full of its own magic, you know, deep and misunderstood. People see it one way - dry and brown, but during the spring, she is alight with cactus blossoms and life. Rain is life, and the desert preserves that.”
She turns to look at me now, eyes brimming with tears.
“I think your garden knew I needed just a little piece of home.” She continues to pull off a few more fruits and paddles, trimming the cactus down a bit.
“It will heal and grow more. Cacti love to feed others.” She glances at me, a smile on her face, letting me know she is okay. “Your turn.”
I crawl over to the fallen log behind her, pointing to the Stag’s Crown.
“Hundreds of years had gone by since even my last worshipper was alive and remembered my name. Earth and humans were changing and evolving. Most of us minor gods were forgotten, our magic depleted. I knew many disappeared completely or went mad when their magic died. But these –,” I bring her hand to the tops of the velvety deep purple mushrooms, letting her caress their delicate form.
“These were my salvation. One day, I was cooking in the woods with these, and some humans found me when they were hiking, drawn in by their delicious smell.
I had been alone for so long that it was a shock to see modern-day humans.
But I got an idea that I should start a restaurant.
In a way, it's a kind of worship and allows me to stay connected and sane. And just enough magic.”
Our fingers entwine, my hand cupping the sides of her face.
She smells like the fresh dew after a rainy night, and I pull her onto my lap, burying my face into her neck.
I know at some point we have to get up and leave and have reality resume, but the thought pulls at my chest, my body protesting viscerally against the idea of going back to the vacant house, alone.
“Let me stay with you tonight, here,” I whisper into her ear, lips brushing along the scalloped edge of it. Goosebumps burst along that burnished brown skin, the hair of her arms raising. I pull back to see her face, searching for her thoughts.
She opens her mouth and closes it again, and a small frown line appears between her brows. Her hands rest on my chest, and my breath stops, wondering what she is thinking, what she will say to my offer.
She presses her forehead to mine. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.” She says, finally.
“I don’t either,” I agree. In that moment, I realize I don’t want to be without her at all, forever. But I’m not sure of the proper protocol for declaring this in human relationships.
Instead, I stay silent, as her smile lights up my soul.
“Good, I’m glad that’s settled.” She says, oblivious to how happy this makes me.