There was a rolled up sleeping bag next to the chair and the remains of a campfire not too far on the other side, so he must have been sleeping out here. Corbin had been inside that cabin across the clearing, and he didn’t blame William. He wouldn’t go back in there either. William never looked up from his guard position, so Corbin was free to observe without interruption, he was curious – what was the shiny green thing? Corbin the bird was mesmerized by shiny things, but Corbin the man wanted to find his heart.
“You took your sweet time in coming back here, Boy,” the old man’s voice drifted up through the branches to poke at him. Corbin looked down and saw the green man standing against the trunk of the tree, watching the cocoon as well. He never even moved his gaze as he spoke to the raven in the branches above.
“She’s sleeping,” he continued, “It’s all I could do for her. Her magic is stronger than mine, a combination I never thought possible. I don’t know why I couldn’t see it, but the Mare could. That’s why she wanted her so bad. Why she wanted to consume her with such a passion. Our girl has power built from a pairing that isn’t even supposed to exist.
“The Ljósálfar and the Dökkálfar are as opposite as can be. The Ljósálfar are light elves, the bright ones, and light bringers. The Dökkálfar live in the earth, they are surrounded by darkness, and never the two shall breed. To be honest, I had never even met one, and I am over 800 years old.” He said all of this to Corbin with a bored expression on his face, like it was barely interesting enough to share with the bird, and Corbin wanted to peck his eyes out from under his bushy eyebrows. The old man lived to give him shit. Unfortunately, in this body, he was relatively helpless to do much but sit and listen, and maybe croak in aggravation.
“You can’t tell because you aren’t connected anymore, boy,” the green man explained. “When she found her power, it was a mighty thing. She squeezed the life out of the nightmare demon, and then she burned the body to ashes, but she almost crossed the line. The dark part of her wanted to take Mara’s power; she almost consumed her. She would have become a monster that none of us could control. Your girl would have been gone forever then.” The green man passed his hand over his eyes and rubbed his beard. He was clearly exhausted, had they both been standing watch this whole time?
“The girls come out sometimes,” and there he went again, pulling thoughts out of Corbin’s mind. He hated it when the old man did it, and it was probably much easier for the old man to do it now that he was a bird instead of a man. The old man had a way with the forest creatures; it was kind of his thing. “It’s hard for them though, you know those girls are soft, and they cry a lot. This one won’t let anyone near, he’s worse than a guard dog.”
William didn’t move his gaze from the green vision in front of him; he just moved his hand out from under his chin and gave the old man his middle finger. The spell Mara had over him had to have been broken, he should have been able to speak now, but it looked like he still wasn’t talking. Maybe he really never could, Corbin didn’t know.
“It’s good of you to come back though; maybe you can help her, I don’t know. It’s been a couple of hundred years since I had to put someone in the sleeper hold, so I can’t rightly remember. She won’t wake up until she’s ready, until she’s healed, and she has a lot of healing to do up here,” he tapped his forehead as an explanation.
Corbin cawed loudly at that, and William narrowed his eyes in irritation but still didn’t look away from his charge. Don’t disrupt her sleep, his face clearly said. Corbin wanted more information from the old man, and he wanted it now.
“I don’t know what else to tell you, boy,” the green man said in return, for once not giving Corbin any attitude. “Be near, be present, be the first person she sees when she wakes. Her magic is wild; it runs deep and old as the earth itself. She is a descendant of one of the oldest races of magical beings; there are tales of her ancestry carved onto warrior’s shields and books of lore. She’s something no one has ever seen, a mix of dark and light. The real mystery is how she even came to be. She’ll wake when she’s ready, Boy, and not one minute sooner.”
So the raven stayed in the clearing with the old man and the silent giant. Sometimes he would fly off and bring her shiny things and lay them at the base of the glimmering monument. Other times he would croak a song for her, raspy and noisy in the only voice he had. William could eat a dick; he would make all the noise he wanted, he was singing an ode to his love. When she woke up, he would be there, and he would stay with her in this form forever if he had to.
On the morning of the seventh day, as he was finishing his morning song and William was fuming silently in his chair with his fingers in his ears like a petulant child, something finally happened. The green cocoon shimmered and moved, the air surrounding the little clearing smelled like raindrops and sun and, bit by bit, the gossamer thread that had formed the sheath began to unwind.
Quinn drifted in and out of consciousness for a while, she didn’t know how long really. Sometimes she would wake, and the sound of cawing would fill her ears for a moment before sleep took her over again. Sometimes she would open her eyes and see the shining green canopy above her through gray tinted vision. Sometimes she would blink it away, and her vision would clear, but as soon as it did, she would fall into slumber again.
When she awoke for the final time, she could see the covering over her thinning out. There were shadows on the other side, and Quinn wondered who those shadows belonged to. Certainly not Corbin, who had flown away when she had released him from their bond and was hopefully living free far away somewhere. Her heart was shattered by the loss but strengthened by the knowledge that she had done right by him, finally. Miss Benny and Rose maybe? The old man probably, and oh, what had happened to poor William?
She wanted out, and almost as if reacting to her thought, the shimmering threads spun in reverse, disappearing as they pulled away from her, and she stepped through the folds and out into the sunlight, blinking at the brightness of it.
The first thing she saw as she looked at the ground at her feet was a small pile of what initially looked like pebbles and broken flower stems. Intrigued, she sank into a squat, hovering a bit over her knees, rejoicing in the stretch as she looked at the little pile.
What she found was a treasure.
Tiny polished lake stones, looking like they had been swiped right from the waterside, all in varying shades of pink. Individual flower petals in all different hues of rose littered the ground from the lightest powder blush to the deepest magenta. These flowers weren’t native to the area; she knew where they had come from. He had searched the forest floor for remnants of their lovemaking to bring them here as a tribute, like a gravestone for the girl that had existed before.
Tears pricked her eyes and ran down her cheeks unchecked. She had earned these tears, and she would let them fall. That small pile of treasures, an homage to their time together, placed like a shrine next to her while she slept. She glanced up to see William sitting in a busted up lounge chair, rear end practically escaping through the bottom slats, a huge grin on his face and fat tears leaking out of his eyes, mirroring hers. The old man was there too, slightly off to the side and blending in with the trunk of an oak, his beard brown and twisted and blending in with the bark. Had he been watching this whole time silently too? She wouldn’t bust him just yet; she would let him think she didn’t see through his disguise. She had a feeling there were more surprises in store for her. As far as her power was concerned, Quinn felt different, strong, completely reborn.
A loud “CAW” from down by her feet scared her so badly that she fell on her butt in the grass and dirt. Rubbing her bottom from the place she landed, she found herself inches away from a familiar looking bird. An inky black raven with deep brown eyes, so dark they almost seemed black but for the ring of metallic copper around them, sat on the ground in front of her. He was holding still and watching to see what she would do, but as the tears fell down her face anew, he began
hopping about excitedly. She held out her hands on the ground in front of her, and he hopped over to her cawing loudly as he did.
The moment his wings touched her hands something changed. Feathers receded and turned to pink flesh. Limbs extended and grew and, within a blink of time, she was sitting spread-eagle in the dirt in front of a very real, very familiar, very naked man. Overcome with feelings, too much to be contained by her body, Quinn couldn’t do more than raise herself to her knees, and she leaned over his feet weeping, her long hair tangling around his ankles. He wouldn’t let her kneel for him though, and with the agility of someone who had done such things before, he swooped her up into his arms, nuzzling his face over and over against her cheeks, her hair, her neck. She wrapped her arms around him and thought to herself that Rose was wrong, Corbin could grow a beard, the scratchy scruff on his jawline told her so. She would let him scratch her all up if it meant she got to keep him.
“You came back for me,” she choked out, throat squeezed tight with emotion.
“You came for me first. You saved me, and I will come for you always. That is the way it will be from this day and every day that we have after. You are mine, and I am yours.”
Ninety-nine became a solid one hundred as he crushed his mouth to hers, arms gripping each other so tightly that they would probably leave handprints on each other but neither cared. The forest noises faded away as Quinn lost herself in the arms and the lips of her lover, her raven, her savior. Or was she the savior? It didn’t matter; they would be that for each other from now until they could no longer draw breath into their bodies. Everything around them fell away until someone cleared their throat, and a thickly accented voice, one that had seen many a year since its last use, spoke up.
“Hey man, I’m as happy to see you as everyone else, but your junk is hanging out.” William looked just as shocked as the other two at the words that had come out of his mouth. His hands flew to his throat, a look of wonderment on his bearded face. The entire clearing erupted into laughter then, and the green man joined them, stepping away from the hiding place where he had been keeping silent vigil. And, just like he had done almost ten years ago to the day, he twisted a hair from his beard with a blade of grass, blew into his hands and summoned a naked Corbin a pair of pants.
In the short weeks that followed, life continued as it should. Quinn decided to stay at Happ House, to no one’s surprise. She continued to train with “Old Man Gus,” as she started to call him, on an almost daily basis, her powers still new and unpredictable. William moved into one of the lodge suites, and after much begging from Miss Benny and Rose, he stayed on as the staff maintenance supervisor. He still didn’t talk much, but when he did have something to say, everyone listened to deep booming voice with the accent no one could place. Miss Benny was smitten, and it was pretty clear to everyone in the “family” that she had adopted another son.
They’d set fire to Mara’s cabin in the woods together, everyone throwing their matches in. They all had a piece of that memory they wanted - no, needed - to burn. They’d saved nothing, but lit it up and watched it all blister to the ground. William would wear the same underwear every day for the rest of his life before he ever set foot in that dreadful place again. It could all burn.
It was unbelievable, the fire department had said, that the fire was only dedicated to that small area and that no surrounding forest had been damaged. No one seemed concerned about the scorch marks in the middle of the clearing, or the missing female occupant who had lived there. It was true that things tended to get glossed over when conversing with Miss Benny. She had a way about her that was very…compelling. After about an hour conversation with county police and fire, it was labeled as a freak accident from bad wiring and case miraculously closed. Miss Benny was a very talented talker.
Quinn had vacated cabin number twelve and moved in with Corbin. She still planned on writing her poetry, but she wondered just how much she would be able to produce commercially now that most of her angst was gone. Her creativity had stemmed from her depression, and now that Quinn was so content, she found it hard to put pen to paper. She still drew though and filled a new notebook with her very favorite subject, a dark-eyed man with a stubborn jaw. She drew him awake and laughing, she drew him in the bed they now shared sleeping, and she drew him standing in the kitchen with a dishtowel over his shoulder – moments of happiness. She would stay here, with her new family living and learning every day, and looking forward to the days that came instead of cowering in the darkness of her four walls.
The green man watched it all, as was his custom. He tried to always watch from a distance; human attachments were hard, their lives so fleeting. One blink and they would be gone and aged into the dust from whence they came while he stayed on. It could be considered lonely if one were to feel like applying such a label. Things were about to get interesting though, and soon.
How soon?
Well, about as long as it was taking the rusty maroon Volkswagen Rabbit to chug its way up the winding mountain road. From his place behind the fox’s eyes he had borrowed, he could see a flash of auburn hair through the windshield as the deep booming tones of “Thunderstruck” came pounding through the open windows. He could also hear the sound of someone singing along with the radio, and if anyone were to wonder about the destination of said vehicle, he would have taken bets that he knew where it was going.
Things were going to be getting interesting again; very interesting indeed and once again, as always, the green man would bear witness to the entire affair.
I am pretty sure I have driven my husband completely bananas in the process of writing this book, and yet he continues to love and support me. Michael, without you I would not have gotten this far in the process. Please continue calling me Princess, holding my hand when we are walking in parking lots, and pinching my bum as I walk in front of you up the stairs. I love you your face off, olive juice the toast.
Susan, I don’t even have words for how much I appreciate how giving you have been of your time, talent and knowledge. You are not only an amazing designer, but I am incredibly grateful that I can call you my friend. I can only hope to pay forward a fraction of the goodwill you have bestowed upon me.
Theresa, thank you for talking me off the ledge of insanity more than once. Ok, more than twice. With your guidance and support, I found the strength to continue when I became discouraged and stressed. You are a beautiful soul, and I want to know you forever.
Jessica, my evil twin, partner in weird and alter ego of the Dark Unicorn. Thank you for yelling at me when I needed it and for being a bad ass beta.
Thank you, Lo, Jaimie, Sam, and Jules for being there when I had a question or just needed to rant incoherently for a moment. For every ridiculous message and every tag on social media that kept me smiling and feeling connected, my heart is filled with your friendship. And glitter. My heart is also filled with glitter.
And finally, thank you to my publishing team and every person that read this book. Thank you for deeming my story important enough to read, because it was important to me that I tell it. I am truly grateful.
Desiree lives in Northwest Ohio with her husband, two children, and two rowdy cats. She is a craft addicted, roller derby skating amateur foody who loves to enjoy a glass of chardonnay with a side of whatever snack the kids left untouched in the pantry, most likely goldfish crackers. To keep up with her next project, or just to see what she is getting into at the moment go to www.desireelafawn.com
https://www.facebook.com/DesireeLafawnAuthor/
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Northwoods Magic (Northwoods Fairy Tales Book 1) Page 17
