Chapter 72
Avice
Avice awoke to the cacophony of Trewoofe’s deep, rumbling snores.
The fire had died overnight, and the morning light illuminated the hollow.
A tapestry of wildflowers had rolled out from them as they slept, covering the wood and decaying leaves with their vibrant hues.
She resisted the urge to nudge Trewoofe awake.
Instead, she decided to take some time for herself.
She smacked her dry lips to together, trying to remember the last time she had drunk something.
I would commit crimes for a cup of chamomile tea. When we get home, I am setting up a small hearth in the nest. I cannot face the day without a cup of something hot.
She stood and tiptoed over to her medical satchel.
There was one bottle of healing water left inside.
She gulped down the contents, sating her thirst. After tucking the bottle away, she touched her outer dress and cloak, finding they were still damp.
Wondering what to do next, she retrieved and munched on a plum.
Avice glanced over to the opening; it was bright outside, and the rain had stopped.
She glanced back to her damp clothing. I will hang these out and—
Her planning was interrupted by a snarling snore from Trewoofe. His forked tongue poked out, and his giant paws twitched as he dreamt. For the life of her, he reminded her of how Bramble slept. How she missed her familiar and Wisp. She could not wait to see them again soon.
Avice bit back her laughter at the sight, and her amusement deepened when she saw his muddy paws.
His scaly pink pads were filthy, and her fingers itched to tickle them.
She knew Trewoofe would despise being so grimy.
He was particular about his appearance, preferring to be clean and presentable.
She also noticed that he was quite fussy about their nest.
For all her musings about his muckiness – and adorable paw pads – she glanced down at her own chemise.
Avice was also filthy, her skin itched with grime, and she felt repulsed by her own stench.
She shoved on her boots and gathered her damp clothing, hoping to find somewhere to hang them – and a stream to wash herself in.
Avice clambered down from the hollow, stepping carefully through the network of roots that the behemoth oak balanced itself on.
After she planted herself firmly on the sodden ground, she gawked up at the magnificent tree that had been their home for the night.
Its branches broke up the white fluffy clouds that floated past in the sapphire sky.
The only tree she had seen bigger was the Birthing Tree from Queen Fawen’s memory.
Impulse moved her. She wanted to check on the seed after the torrential rain the night before, to make sure it had not washed away in the downpour.
Avice draped her damp clothing over a root bathed in sunlight.
She trudged up the waterlogged knoll, her boots sinking deep into the mud, making each step more difficult.
Her thighs burnt and sweat peppered her upper lip when she laid her eyes on where they had buried the seed.
If Avice had not already been puffing from her climb, she would have gasped. The tree had already sprouted – it was the height of her hip and split into two branches laden with emerald foliage – but that was not what stunned her.
It was the Spriggan gently touching the leaves.
He had not noticed her; it was the smaller male with the missing ear.
“Derrowen?” Avice asked quietly, not wanting to spook him.
Her gentle approach was in vain. The Spriggan squealed when he saw her and began to scamper away.
“Please wait, Derrowen!” she called after him.
He paused, his single ear twitching as he raked his orange gaze over her. “That is twice now you have said my name,” he stated. “How do you know me?”
Avice gestured to the sprout. “I found Queen Fawen. She showed me her memories before she—”
“Were you going to say died?” Derrowen interrupted.
She nodded and clenched her pendant. “I am sorry I could not save her.”
The Spriggan crept closer to her, so he was within arm’s reach. He snuffed at her through his nose holes and rattled his skull.
“Queen Fawen did not die. You did save her!” He pointed his clawed finger at the small tree. “She will be her daughter, and her daughter will be all of the Spriggan.”
Avice nodded, trying to grasp exactly what that meant, before glancing around. “Where is Pren?”
“He went to gather some food for us,” Derrowen replied. “You saw him in the memories too?”
“I did. I saw the dead Drake King, and his barren egg,” Avice said, taking a step towards the Spriggan. “I also saw what happened to Queen Fawen and how she came to be in Lamorna.”
“The death of King Draig, and the lack of an heir, is what caused this mess. There was no one left to look after us and the Green.” Derrowen wrung his clawed hands. “We know that men took Fawen. We followed their scents to the human settlement, but then we could not find our Queen.”
“I am sorry that humans did this to you and yours,” Avice apologised.
“It is not your doing,” Derrowen said, scampering closer to her.
He was in touching distance now, and she slowly reached out. He froze as her fingers grazed his skull. For the life of her, this Spriggan reminded her of a lonely pet who had lost its master. She could not resist the urge to scratch behind his remaining ear. He closed his eyes and lightly sighed.
“You tried to change the human children because you hoped they would be able to wake Eostre. Is that right?”
Avice needed to confirm her theory. She had to know the reason for everything that happened to her and Trewoofe. The cause of it all, since she had brought Hope to Knucker Hill.
“Pren and I tried to wake her. We tried the potions, the medicines, and the herbs. But nothing worked,” Derrowen whimpered. “We thought maybe we needed a female. So, we tried to change humans. But our magic is weak, and our attempts to change the female younglings failed.”
“But one of your failures included a boy,” Avice interjected.
Derrowen blinked dumbly up at her. “It did?”
She clenched her jaw. “You mean… it was a mistake when you changed the boy?”
“Human younglings are difficult to tell the difference between. Especially when they are still inside their dams.”
Avice scoffed. She had been right all along.
The Spriggan males were simply idiotic. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the spark of anger in her belly.
For her, the Folk and the Good Neighbours were identical in their logic and inconceivable ways.
Despite what Trewoofe might say about their differences.
“Then why the Pillywiggin?” she asked.
Derrowen shrugged. “It did not work with the human younglings, so we thought we might try with a Good Neighbour. We failed with the Pillywiggin. She bit Pren and flew off into the blizzard.”
“A final question, if I may,” she said.
“Yes, my Lady,” he agreed, squirming happily from her pats.
She suppressed a grimace at the title. “The red-haired child and the newborn youngling with the skull, they were both after my Lord and I woke Eostre. Why did you try to lure one away and change the other?”
Derrowen gave Avice a look that suggested she was the idiotic one out of the two of them. “Because after she has brought forth Spring, Eostre needs to rest, and her Summer sister takes over. We needed a female to put her back to sleep and then wake her again for the next turn of seasons.”
“I do not know what will happen with Eostre at Spring’s end. But you are to mark no more human children or Good Neighbours,” Avice said firmly. “Is that clear?”
He rattled his skull in response. “Pren already told me about the Sidhe King of this Otherworld. We will do nothing to provoke his wrath.”
“What do you mean ‘this Otherworld’?” Avice asked, furrowing her brow.
Derrowen sniffed beneath his skull. “Can you not sense it? As below, so above.”
Avice scanned the wood. For as far as she could see, there was only a sea of green canopy and brown trunks. She flared her nostrils, taking in the scent of petrichor. The air crackled with magic, and her tattoo twitched with excitement at the expansion of Trewoofe’s Kingdom.
“You are right,” she murmured, dropping her hand from the Spriggan’s head, and pressing it to her thumping chest. “But what does it mean?”
Derrowen sidled closer and butted her hand with his skull. “It will mean safety for you and yours. If it is anything like the Green was, beings who mean no harm can come and go. Those who enter will forget details when they leave if they gossip about the place.”
“That is part of the Sidhe magic?” she asked, the word tingling her tongue.
“The Sidhe intertwines with the ward. Keeping the Otherworld safe in more ways than one,” he replied.
Avice smiled, straining her neck to see as far as she could. The newfound knowledge comforted her. The Spriggan sprout would be safe tucked away in the glade.
An idea struck her. “Would you and Pren like to stay here?” she asked. “It will be far away from humans.”
Derrowen wagged his bushy tail. “We would like that very much.” He nodded his head in the direction of the sprout. “We would like to be close to her when she fruits. That is, if that is alright with the Sidhe King.”
“He will not mind, as long as you keep away from the younglings.” Avice knew Trewoofe would be amenable to this arrangement, especially when she explained the situation to him. She patted the Spriggan’s head a final time. “Thank you for answering my questions.”
“You are welcome, my Lady.”
Her boots had sunken into the mud during their exchange. She heaved free of the muck and began her trudge away from the Spriggan.
“Will we see you again? I think that the Birthing Tree would enjoy you visiting,” he called after her.
Avice looked back at him. “We will return. This glade is a sacred place, and I am sure my Lord will want to visit in the future.”
Derrowen seemed happy with that response. His skull rattled and tail wagged at the same time. She bobbed her head at him and squelched her way down the gentle slope. She headed for the stream that meandered on the edge of the clearing, determined to wash way the grime from the night before.
Abandoning her chemise and boots on a Sun-warmed rock, Avice waded into the stream. The frigid waters bit her calves, and her teeth chattered so violently they threatened to come out of her head.
She smiled as a dabble of ducks paddled by.
They quacked loudly to their dozen ducklings, who cheeped incessantly in reply.
She watched delightedly as they splashed out of sight.
Ever since she and Trewoofe had awoken Eostre, there seemed to be babies everywhere.
It made the desire for her own more poignant, like a thorn in her foot she could not extract.
She ignored that dull ache for now and turned to the task at hand.
Gingerly, she stepped further in, feeling her way over the smooth river stones with her toes, until the water was up to her chin.
She floated there for a moment, and elation filled her as she swam. Trewoofe’s lesson had proved invaluable. She sucked in a breath and ducked beneath the surface. When she popped back up again, she nearly choked at the sight that met her eyes.
There was a Goddess on the bank.
Eostre had come.