Chapter 49
Avice
The following morning, Avice locked up her cottage after promising her boys she would be safe as she rambled. With her hat strapped to her head, a basket on her elbow, and her favourite iron knife sheathed at her hip, she turned on her heel ready to face the day.
At least, she thought she was ready to face the day.
That was until she saw the towering wilderness of her garden.
The branches of the apple, mulberry, and plum trees were squashed up against the top of Trewoofe’s ward.
Her medicinal herbs were taller than her.
The air was laden with nose-tickling pollen.
The melody of singing insects filled her ears.
A rustle caught her attention and two hedgehogs, twice their normal size, trundled into view.
They paused to wiggle their noses at her, before disappearing back into the green.
“God’s blood, what is happening?” she murmured.
After the previous day, Avice had abandoned the idea of taking time to herself to think about things.
As far as she was concerned, there was not much more for her to consider.
She had served the village well enough, and she would go where she was wanted and welcomed.
If panic did not seize her, and with support from her boys, she may well stay with Trewoofe in the Underneath. After all, he had invited her to do so.
So, instead of ruminating on choosing between her duty and her heart, she changed her plans and decided to visit the beach.
She wanted to search for a trinket for Trewoofe.
He said Knuckers liked to give gifts, and she wanted to share in this part of his culture.
But what could she give a Sidhe King? A shell came to mind, something he would not have in the Underneath.
She stood on her tiptoes, peering over the towering flora. “How am I even going to get there?”
Avice stepped from under the eaves, her soles cushioned by the thick carpet of flowering grass.
A chittering caught her attention. The Pillywiggin flock were stuffing themselves in the mulberry tree, and their faces were stained purple with juice.
She shook her head at their antics and refocused on the garden path.
The plants had bent.
The flora made a passage for her, with the trail cutting through the green like a snake slivering through grass.
Her jaw dropped. She glanced around, looking for some Good Neighbour who had done this for her, but there was only the squawking Pillywiggins.
She took a tentative step forward, half-expecting the plants to snap up and swallow her whole.
Instead, she felt a thrumming. Just like on the night of the ritual, it hummed up her legs and tingled her spine, making the ink under her skin twitch. She looked left and right, completely bewildered.
“Do not eat me,” she ordered warily.
Avice made her way out of her garden, stepped through Trewoofe’s ward, and into the woods beyond.
Her journey to the coast was an easy one.
The woods allowed her to pass through, shifting from her path so she could walk unencumbered.
Her fingers had fidgeted on the way, eager to grasp at the many offerings from the surrounding greenery.
She repeatedly reminded herself that she could forage on her return home.
No sense lugging it all the way there and all the way back.
As Avice stood on the clifftop, the sea breeze buffeted her, and she flared her nostrils at the salty scent.
She scanned the white sands, relieved that she could spot no other villagers from her vantage point.
She let out a contented sigh. She loved the coast, and it had been too long since she had visited.
Avice gingerly descended the steep stairs carved into the cliffside. They were slippery with sea moss, and she was unsteady at every step. They had been made and maintained by the many generations of fisherman of Lamorna and used by anyone who came to visit the beach.
The tide was ebbing, and her boots squelched into the wet sand as she took the final step down. She eagerly tore off her shoes and stockings and stuffed them into her basket. She dug her toes into the sand as she ruffled her skirts, tying them above the knee so they did not get wet.
Avice set off down the beach. The only sound was that of the crashing waves and the odd squawk of a seagull overhead.
The lack of village noises soothed her, and she dropped the tension from her shoulders as she collected shells.
She hoped she would have time to make Trewoofe a decoration for his horn before he arrived that evening.
The thought of seeing him sent her stomach swirling and added to the tingles already drifting up her spine.
She could not wait to kiss him again.
She was impatient do other things with him as well.
Avice could not shake the lewd ideas from her head.
She knew what he looked like between his legs, and it made her mouth water.
She wondered what it would be like to kiss his cock, run her tongue over it, and make him whimper and buck from her lavish attentions.
She flushed at that, and wet heat pooled between her thighs.
If they had been able to continue the night of the ritual, she would have loved to have done that and much more with her sweet Knucker.
A flash of silver snagged her periphery and shook her from her lustful daydreams. She smiled at the White Horses trotting amongst the waves.
Their pelts were frothing sea foam, and seaweed made up their manes and tails.
The sight of the frolicking mare and foal twisted an ache in her.
A twinge she had tried to squash down many turns of seasons ago when she concluded it would never happen.
That deep want for a family of her own. Trewoofe had unearthed that in her, and his words had reignited that desire.
Avice watched as the mare nickered at her foal, who had wandered a little too close to the shore. Much like Bramble, the White Horses could only be seen by those with the sight, or when they were happy to show themselves.
They moved away once the foal had returned to its mother, dissolving back into the sea. She continued her walk, her eyes on the sand. Avice had collected a dozen shells for her planned trinket, and she was already forming the creation in her mind.
Before she knew it, she had nearly walked the length of the bow-shaped cove as it swept into cliffs and caves. She frowned at the sight of a small rowboat dragged up on the shore. It must have been hidden from her view up on the cliff and she wondered where the fishermen were.
As she approached, she noticed two sets of footprints making their way up the beach towards the cliffs.
One of the sets was huge, with four clawed toes on each foot, and the impression of a membrane in between them.
The other set was clearly human. Worry gnawed at her.
She adjusted the basket on her elbow, torn at what to do.
Was the fisherman alright? What had walked up the beach with him?
She let out a huff. Just the previous day, Avice had promised herself she would no longer put others above her own wellbeing.
She fought with herself to turn on her heel and leave – after all, it was none of her business.
As usual, her curiosity won, and she followed the trail up the sands.
The footprints rounded a curve in the cliffs.
She peeked around the edge, her heart in her throat at what she might find there.
She stifled a squeak at what she saw. The back of a towering male, bigger and broader than even Trewoofe.
His skin was a deep blue, and long black curls tumbled down his back.
She leant out further to study him more closely, squinting against the Sunshine.
Twisting horns swept back from the male’s head.
He wore a scrap of cloth around his thick hips but otherwise was bare.
He mumbled something – his voice deeper than the sea – and Avice realised he was hugging someone in his thick, corded arms.
That someone was John.
The shock of red hair had her letting out a loud gasp.
The muscular back of the horned male tensed.
He spun to face her, a savage growl ripping from his full lips.
Before she could blink, he changed. His limbs and body expanded into a massive, wingless Dragon.
His claws, fangs, and horns lengthened to a feral point.
Avice froze to the spot. She looked up, and up.
He was so huge that he overflowed from the narrow space, his glittering blue scales scraping against the granite.
“What is it, Treth?” John called from behind the creature.
“SOMEONE HAS SEEN US!” he roared, loosening stones from the cliffs that towered above.
One pebble tumbled down and bounced on her shoulder, blinking Avice from her stupor.
A Morgowr.
“Who is it?” John tried to shove past his lashing two-finned tail.
Treth was faster.
He lunged towards Avice, his webbed claws thwacking the air as she stumbled back. By some miracle, he snagged on the cliffside as he tried to ram his massive body through the gap.
It gave her precious moments to shove herself up and run.
She bolted down the sands, clasping her basket to her chest.
“TRETH, NO!” John shouted from somewhere behind her.
The cracking sounds of rocks met her ears, quickly followed by the earth-shaking sprint of the Morgowr. His giant steps became louder and louder, squelching in the sands behind her.
He was close.
She could feel his hot breath on her neck.
Avice did not look back as she fumbled for her pendant and formed the image of her Knucker in her mind. “Trewoofe! I need you! I am at Lamorna Cove, near the sea caves!”