Chapter 67 #2
Trewoofe hissed before he found his balance again.
Apprehension twisted her gut as he cautiously lowered the cross to the stone.
She marvelled at that, how he was so huge, yet so gentle.
Trewoofe dropped back to his four paws and inspected it.
He flicked his tongue over the surface, pressed an ear to the wood, and beckoned Avice over.
He tapped it with his talon. “I can hear something inside.”
Avice dropped to her knees, brushed away the dust and pebbles, and pressed her ear to the polished wood. There was a slow, but regular, pattern of thumps.
One louder, one quieter.
“A heartbeat…” Her eyes widened in horror. “We must get this open.”
She stood and stepped back as Trewoofe brandished his thumb talon. He painstakingly sliced a straight line down the central beam of the cross. It reminded Avice of when she cut linen to make her clothing: careful, precise, and with determined purpose.
“I see a skull, Avice.” He peered into the split he had made. “With closed eyes behind it.” He moved his talon to the top again and made an identical slice. “I must make this wider, we have to get her out.”
Avice nodded. “Do what you must.”
Blood pounded in her ears as the dormant Faerie inside the beam was slowly revealed.
Her long branch-like arms were wrapped around her emaciated chest, and her skinny legs were folded against her torso.
Her skin was mottled green and brown, reminding Avice of a fallen log patched by moss.
Her face was covered by an overgrown fox skull, and fluffy ears poked out of the temporal bones at the side of her head.
Her clawed twiggy fingers enveloped something round that she pressed to her chest.
“Are we too late?” Avice asked.
“I do not think so,” Trewoofe replied.
He flicked his tongue out and licked across the Faerie’s crown.
One heartbeat.
Two.
Avice nearly fell over as the Faerie’s eyes flew open and she sucked in a scraping breath.
She sat straight and kept her hands clasped to her chest. The midwife dropped her satchel and knelt beside the rapidly blinking Folk.
Avice’s hand hovered above her bony shoulder, before finally squeezing her gently.
“My Lady?”
“Be careful, little witch,” Trewoofe rumbled. “This Faerie is not from my Kingdom. She is one of the Folk, not a Good Neighbour.
“I will be cautious,” Avice replied, unable to tear her gaze from the gaunt being in front of her.
“My Lady? I heard you calling for me. My soul-bound—” She was interrupted by her Knucker’s approving purr and shot him a glare to silence him.
“—and I, came to help you. Are you alright? What can I do to aid you?”
The Queen’s neck creaked as she slowly turned to Avice. Dust and desiccated moss fell from the lines in her bark-like skin. It fluttered into the dark hollow she had been trapped in. Her eyes were dull orange, and the midwife knew they were once as bright as the stars.
It all laced together for Avice as she studied the poor Folk.
She was so like Mary. The Bucca said that the Greenfolk had tried to change the child.
The Tall Ones said that Greenfolk were Spriggan.
Avice had seen a flash of green in the bushes right after she left Emma’s cottage, the same day Trewoofe saved Mary.
The Pillywiggin Princess and Nell both mentioned seeing a ‘big green Faerie’.
Avice’s stomach twisted at the idea of a Spriggan trying to lure Nell away.
She had already been planning on checking on John, so she vowed that would happen as soon as possible.
“Are you the Spriggan Queen?” Avice asked.
“She does look like Mary,” Trewoofe agreed.
The Folk tilted her head at a harsh angle, her ear just touching her shoulder.
Her pupils narrowed as she focused on Avice.
A spark of lightning crackled between the midwife and the Queen.
The Faerie snuffed heavily through her nose holes and her ears pricked.
She dropped her hand, slightly exposing the smooth shiny object pressed to her chest. The Queen reached for Avice, her clawed fingers so thin they would snap in a Summer breeze.
“You came,” the Spriggan Queen croaked, her unused voice barely audible in the silent church.
“You called.” Avice intertwined her fingers with the Queen’s, bark and skin lacing together as if they had always known each other. “I am sorry it took me so long.”
The Queen blinked slowly. “I have been waiting for you.”
She smiled quizzically at the Faerie. “Why me?”
“Because you are like me.”
Trewoofe cocked his head. “Avice is human, and you are a Queen of the Folk.”
The Spriggan’s neck creaked, and she sluggishly observed the towering Knucker. “You are a Sidhe King, and I am in your Otherworld?”
“I am, and…” He looked to Avice, and she nodded for him to continue the questioning. “…yes, you are. You are safe here. Can you tell us what happened to you?”
Avice’s hand began to tingle, and heat shot up her arm. The power made its way to her collar bones and stained the inked leaves green. Her sigil writhed, as though it were about to burst from beneath her skin.
Avice frowned at their joined hands as the Spriggan dug in her claws. “What are you doing?”
Trewoofe emitted a low growl and bared his fangs right at the Queen’s skull. “Let her go!”
“To know, you must see,” the Spriggan insisted.
Avice went rigid. The magic that flowed between them did not hurt, but the intensity matched a thousand flowers blossoming into life all at once.
She took a sharp breath, ripped free, and fell back.
She could not catch herself as the magic bounced through her.
Her limbs would not work, and her spine went stiff.
Trewoofe caught her in his paw, saving her from a nasty tumble.
That is when Avice saw.