by Sacchi Green
Willow asked the question when the air had just ripened with the sweet, full smell of autumn. She and Agatha both sat with their feet in the creek, for Agatha’s were tired after her day in the field. As they conversed, Agatha gradually removed all of her garments until she was naked as a forest animal. Willow’s eyes strayed in fascination at the similarities between them whenever Agatha turned away, and finally, when Agatha lay back on the moss, Willow could not remain reserved any longer.
“Agatha, does humankind do as the other animals do in the springtime?”
Agatha sat up. “Pardon?”
Willow shifted on the rocks, and the moss grew further to cushion her. “To make young,” she said.
For a moment, Agatha was startled. This was a topic her parents had told her about in detail so that she could not be fooled by anyone who might try to prey on her innocence in town. “Yes,” she said finally, “but we do not always do it to make young.”
Willow’s leaves perked up with confusion. “Why else would you suffer a man?”
Agatha searched the dryad’s face. “I would not suffer a man,” she admitted. “But some women find it pleasurable.”
“What could be pleasurable about it?” Willow asked.
Agatha’s heart sped up. Slowly, so that Willow might pull away if she wished, Agatha put her right hand on Willow’s jaw and leaned forward. Tenderly, almost chastely, Agatha pressed her red lips to Willow’s deep brown ones and kissed. Only the hot breath that ghosted across Willow’s mouth before Agatha pulled away indicated that the touch had been one of desire and not tutorial.
Willow looked at her with shining eyes. “Oh,” she said.
This time, Willow met Agatha in the middle, and Agatha wrapped her in her strong arms. When they broke apart for breath, Agatha put her index finger on Willow’s chin and held her mouth open, then licked her bottom lip. Willow reached her tongue out, too, and for a moment, they touched, tentatively, before Agatha pushed forward and probed Willow’s mouth, brushing the roof, then tangling tongues again. Willow’s breath was like clover after the rain, and Agatha’s free hand wrapped itself in Willow’s branches, pulling her closer so that she could probe deeper. This time, when they separated, she found that Willow’s hands had also been busy. Cascading around her face and down her shoulders, Agatha’s blonde hair fell free from its usual braid.
“That is what the humans do?” Willow asked.
“That is only the beginning,” Agatha said.
Willow put her chin to her collarbone and looked up at Agatha from below her brows. “Would you show me more?”
Agatha smiled. This time, she shared another soft kiss with Willow, then began kissing her way down her neck and continued on until she reached Willow’s breasts. They were heavy and plush, bountiful as nature itself, and topped with nipples the color of rich mahogany. Though Willow was of the woods, her body was pliant and supple.
Agatha had never engaged in these activities with anyone else before, but she thought of what felt good on her many lonely nights, and she brushed her thumb against one of Willow’s nipples. When the dryad gasped, Agatha gained confidence and decided to experiment. Using her left hand to tweak Willow’s right breast, Agatha dipped her head and licked the other nipple, then took it in her mouth and sucked on it. This time, Willow arched her back.
“Oh, Agatha!” she mewled.
As Agatha continued her ministrations, Willow put one hand on her shoulder, gripping her tightly, and with the other, she reached for Agatha’s chest. Her breasts were pert, small, and firm, and Willow took one into her hand entirely, massaging it and occasionally pinching Agatha’s nipple in between her fore- and middle-finger. The first time that she did this, Agatha whimpered, and the second time, she began to feel that tingling in her groin that said she could wait no longer.
Willow groaned when Agatha stopped suckling, but the farmer stroked down her spine, gently laying her on the moss.
“I will show you the most pleasurable part of all,” Agatha said.
Trailing kisses, Agatha worked her way downward, tasting Willow’s soft skin. She used an arm to position one of Willow’s thighs over her shoulder, and with the other hand she stroked the inside of Willow’s other leg, moving her hand tantalizingly close, then back down.
Though Willow was always nude, Agatha had only caught the barest glimpse of what lay between the dryad’s legs, and now, with everything on full display, she felt another powerful swell of arousal. Like the inside of a healthy tree, Willow’s inner lips were dewy and a pale green. Agatha lightly trailed her middle finger over the clitoral hood and down one side of her nether lips. Reflexively, Willow bucked up, moaning. With the arm wrapped around Willow’s thigh, Agatha used the less calloused pad of her thumb to rub Willow’s clit, and with the other, she continued lightly tracing her nethers, teasing the entrance to Willow’s body, but never pushing in.
For a few minutes, Willow reclined and let the feelings flow through her, strange but wonderful, just like Agatha herself was. But eventually, before she was truly lost in the sensation, she pulled away, and Agatha’s head shot up, questioning.
“Kneel over me, please. I want to touch you,” Willow begged.
Agatha grinned. Placing her legs on either side of Willow’s head, she returned to her ministrations from a new, top-down angle. Willow, meanwhile, took a moment to enjoy the sight of Agatha on display for her. Agatha’s skin beneath her clothes was pale, but here, her skin was flushed scarlet and lightly carpeted in blonde curls. Willow touched with her thumb, mimicking Agatha’s movements, and this time, it was Agatha’s turn to mewl. She was soaking wet, and Willow could smell her heady scent. Impulsively, she pulled Agatha’s taut rump down toward her face and licked at the source of the smell. This elicited a louder moan than anything else, so she did it again, with the same result. The taste was bitter, and like nothing Willow had ever eaten before. She liked it.
Agatha, feeling how good Willow’s tongue felt, could not deny her the same pleasure. As she felt her own nethers being bathed, she lapped Willow’s clit as well. The dryad squealed and bucked into her face. Using her now free hand, she held Willow’s hips down and began to work herself into a rhythm, enjoying the syrupy taste. When she found exactly what motion would elicit the loudest response, she kept at it, making circles around Willow’s button, while Willow moved her tongue vertically for Agatha.
Willow’s orgasm was sudden and powerful. With short, jagged thrusts, she finished, and it was all Agatha could do to keep her in place while she continued licking, occasionally dipping her head to catch the juices pushed out by the force of Willow’s spasms. Feeling Willow against her whole body and feeling the muscle contractions through her arm, Agatha could hold back no longer, and as Willow’s orgasm subsided, Agatha reached her own completion. Willow gladly lapped at the heat of Agatha’s sex, even as Agatha sat back onto her face, unable to stay upright as she gasped and groaned.
When Agatha was done, she sat up, then lay beside Willow on the moss, pulling the dryad into her arms. In this fashion they rested for a time, listening to the sounds of the forest and enjoying the twinges still running through them. Finally, though, Willow sat up.
“You must go,” she said. “It will be dark soon.”
“You should come with me to the farmhouse. It may be small, but the bed is big enough for both of us,” Agatha urged.
Willow began to braid Agatha’s hair again. “I cannot stray that far from the trees. Where the forest does not reach, I cannot go,” she said.
Agatha nodded slowly, already considering the solution. “Would you come, if you could?” she asked.
The look Willow gave her was almost teary. “I want nothing more,” she said.
Resolution filled Agatha. “Then you will someday,” she promised, and stood up.
For the rest of that autumn, Willow came to the edge of the forest once her own curation of the woods was complete to watch Agatha in the fields every day. Though Agatha made her own brea
kfasts, bread and cheese, Willow brought her fruits, roots, and nuts from the forest for lunch and supper. Agatha harvested alone, but the presence of her favorite onlooker galvanized her. With supper waiting for her, and dessert even more enticing, Agatha was happy to work as hard as she possibly could.
With the onset of the winter, though, Willow came to Agatha full of sorrow. “I must hibernate with the trees,” she said. “Though I need little sleep year-round, in the winter, I incubate in the willow.”
Agatha felt her heart sink. “I will be thinking of nothing else but your return all winter,” she said, blinking rapidly. “Is there anything I can set myself to in order to ease your awakening?”
Willow thought for a moment. “I am always freezing cold when I rise from my slumber. The summer is warm, but the spring is cold for many weeks.”
“I will make you a woolen blanket,” Agatha promised.
Sure enough, the next spring, when Willow smelled the rain on the forest air and was called back to the woods, she found a new woolen blanket wrapped around the tree. Bunching it around herself, she ran to the edge of the woods, the snow unpleasant on her feet even if it would not harm her. When she reached the edge, she could see that it was early morning, the sky purple and gold in successive layers.
“Agatha!” she shouted.
In less than a minute, someone stumbled out of the house, shielded their eyes from the sun, then ran across the fields. “Willow!” Agatha yelled back.
Willow caught Agatha in her arms and began to kiss her. Agatha kissed back, then pulled away. “Come,” she said. “It is warmer inside.”
“Inside?” Willow asked, puzzled.
Agatha took her by the hand and led her halfway around the field. As they approached, Willow could see what appeared to be the bare structure of a fence, but as they got closer, she realized what she was truly seeing.
“You planted trees across the field?”
“They already grow around the house for shade. You can come inside now. You may wake up cold, but you can come into the warmth whenever you please,” Agatha said.
Willow could see the furrows where the frost had been doggedly chipped through so that the reedy saplings could be replanted. As Agatha led her down the row, she stared in wonder at the small, hunched cabin, surrounded by trees just as Agatha had said. Up close, she could smell the wood smoke, and she froze.
“Your home is on fire!” she said.
Agatha stopped. “It is only the fireplace. You will be safe.”
Willow stared back at her, hope and fear wrestling for dominance.
Agatha went back and pulled Willow close to her. “When I am forced to make a journey to town, I meet women who are trapped by their duties and the places they live. I saw their lives and I thought that to share my life with another would be to lose my freedom to explore and be the mistress of my own domain. Now that I know you, Willow, I realize that I was wrong. I see you bid the plants to grow, and I know that I have found someone who is as much a mistress of her domain as I am the mistress of mine. I love your lonely heart, your protective soul, and your adventurous spirit. Willow…I love you.”
Willow smiled a great smile then, one as radiant as the sunrise. Stooping down, Agatha scooped her up and carried Willow into the house. She did not stop until she reached the bedroom, and there they remained until the sun was well over the fields.
For many years, Agatha and Willow had great happiness. Willow would help in the fields sometimes, and when she could, Agatha would help in the forest as well.
Willow became accustomed to being in the house, and Agatha was never bothered by the larger animals in the forest thanks to Willow’s intervention. Using her knowledge of farming, Agatha did her best to enhance the growth of Willow’s tree, and every few winters, she would need to knit a new blanket for Willow’s awakening.
Willow grew taller, and her face became that of a woman, not a girl. As time passed, however, Agatha grew stronger, then smarter, and then suddenly more frail. Willow watched in consternation as Agatha’s blonde hair faded to white and her once-toned frame became thin. More and more, she focused her energies on the fields, growing Agatha the food she would need for the winter, since Willow could not provide for her then and Agatha could not do it on her own.
One fall, as the first tendrils of frost snaked over the morning grass, Agatha measured the oldest tree in the forest, now nearly two centuries old, and found it already much larger around the middle than the year previous. Her face split into a grin.
“I have to knit another one,” she said.
“Please, save your strength,” Willow begged. “I will run to the house when I awaken.”
“You will be cold,” Agatha said, “and I must have some way to distract myself from missing you.”
That night, they made love tenderly, but with the skill of two people who have mastered the art of the other person’s body. In the morning, shivering beneath her cloak but too stubborn to admit it, Agatha walked with Willow back to the tree and watched as her lifelong companion entered it in the same effortless way she had once stepped out of it so many years ago. Then she returned to the farmhouse and pulled out the wool.
The winter was long and hard that year, and nearing the end, Agatha found that she did not have enough food to last her. Taking some of the old blankets that were now too small for the willow, she hobbled out into the snow and began her journey to the town. She made it by nightfall, and managed to trade the blankets for enough food to last her if she was careful. However, without any money, she could not stay at an inn for the night, and so it was that she began her trip home in the dark.
After all these years, Agatha was hardly surprised when she was waylaid on the roadside. Stubborn and still strong at heart, she refused to hand over her food. They left her with broken bones and a bleeding scalp, laughing at the foolish pride of an old woman, and took even her cloak. At first, she thought she might mend if she made it home, but as the night wore on, Agatha realized that this would likely be her last. Then, she considered, why not wait peacefully for death to come? But even as she considered resting her cracked hip, she caught a hint of warmth and rain in the night, and she knew she had to press on.
The morning sun was high when Agatha finally limped through the doorway of her home. Though she felt the chill deep in her bones, she did not tarry long. She was soon out the door, and then into the woods for the last time. Agatha knew that without her to tend the tree as only a farmer could, that old willow might not grow as fast as it had up until now. She had to make sure that her last contribution was nourishing. As best she could, Agatha wrapped the new blanket around the tree and kissed her willow for the last time.
To this day, some say that if you can find the town, you can find the old forest that burned down long ago. At the very center of those woods is a willow tree with the very tattered, very old remains of a woolen blanket around it. If you can do this, and you know what to look for, then you can still see the remains of a skeleton held fast in the roots, too closely to ever remove without killing the tree.
TOADS, DIAMONDS, AND THE OCCASIONAL PEARL
Emily L. Byrne
All the stories begin the same way: three princes go on a quest. Maybe they’re rivals for a throne. Or a princess. But whatever the goal, the youngest one always wins. Unless it’s the eldest. They never have sisters. Or if they do, they’re left safely at home.
When I told my father, the king, that I wanted to go on a quest like my two brothers had, he laughed. He made my request a joke, as if he had not known that I practiced all that my brothers learned from the armsmaster since we were small. Perhaps I had kept that secret too well.
The whole court buzzed with the news of my humiliation, except for my younger brother, Fenar. He longed for the peace of the library and the quiet of the monastery. And that was where I parted from him when I left our father’s castle, taking his sword, his horse, and his name with his blessing.
Our father had forbidden me
all three and I intended to prove him wrong. I could win the throne, if not the princess. Princess Eliann was lovely to look at, but she’d never glanced at me. Not since I kissed her once when I was on a visit to her mother’s court and found myself barred from it until I “could learn to behave like a princess.”
I sighed. When I saw Eliann next, we were both of marriageable age and things had changed. She was proud and cruel, no longer willing to meet my eyes, not even when I made my brothers stop teasing her. In any case, Eliann would never accept being consort to the Princess Shalene when she could be queen to my eldest brother, Greir, so my wishes were of little significance.
That was, of course, if Greir chose to claim her hand along with the throne when he returned. I thought it unlikely. Eliann’s…affliction had put off braver men than he. Few would choose to be married to a princess who spat out diamonds or toads with every sentence. Mother had said that true love would break the fairy curse, but I had my doubts.
I shrugged off my thoughts, which made my horse snort at me and toss his head, eager to run. I felt the same way. Once I had seen other lands, I promised myself that I would find a princess and a throne of my own and never return here, just as my great aunt had done. The day turned brighter and my road clearer at that picture. I nudged the horse forward into a loping run and I smiled to think of leaving all I knew behind me.
I smiled less when I reached the edge of the great forest of Adin. The sun was setting and the figure on the path in front of me was in shadow, but I could still see the outline of a bow, its string stretched taut. The arrow was pointed straight at me. I pulled my horse to an abrupt halt. “I mean you no harm.” I tried to make my voice as deep as my brother’s.
The arrow stayed right where it was. “How do I know that?” It was odd, the quaver in that voice, almost like someone trying to sound older and larger than they were. I wondered if there were others on the road who traveled in disguise tonight. Did my brother’s light armor make me so very terrifying?
