I shrugged my shoulders and said, “To be honest, a faerie circle is the only thing I’ve been able to come up with to explain things, but I don’t think I’d done anything to warrant that particular punishment, as you put it.”

He smiled. “I’m not saying I believe you, because your story is really far fetched, but there is no other way you can be here without my knowing and a faerie circle is as good an answer as anything else.”

Wait! What?

“You still don’t know who I am?” I asked. Seriously, I was famous. My name would send entire armies running in the opposite direction. People did what I asked without my using my powers. They really did what I wanted when I did use me powers.

“I’m not as certain knowing who you are or what you think you can do is as important as figuring out why you’re here and how you got here,” Ethan said.

As an afterthought, he asked, “Other than the clothes you took off and left in there, are there any other things you believe should be on your person or in your possession?”

I thought about that for a bit, trying to remember what I should’ve had on me and what I woke up with on or around me. The truth was, I realized, there was nothing. Not a bag, not my satchel, none of the small notebooks and volumes I carried with me. Just me in all my glory and the clothes I may or may have not been wearing when I was trapped.

After telling Ethan all that, in a far more graceful way with hints of pitty and subtle requests for protection and help, he pulled out a journal of his own and jotted something down before closing it and wrapping the outside with a long, intricately beaded leather band.

He slipped into a lighter coat he had sitting on the seat with him and then looked at me and said, “It’s about time for lights out.”

“Wait,” I said, standing as Ethan stood up, “I have questions I want answers to.”

“That will probably need to wait until tomorrow,” he said. He looked up at the sky and said, “It’s getting dark and while I have no problem with the dark, there are reasons why this,” he made a broad gesture to encompass the entirety of the area around them, “isn’t inhabited by anyone anymore. You may feel comfortable being up and outside between sundown and sunup, but I’m not.”

“Then I will come to your tent with you and we can talk in there,” I said.

“No thank you,” he said.

I felt my face and mouth fall in surprise. Was this guy alive? Did he have a pulse? What about his dick? I mean, have you seen me?

Whatever his problem is or was or may be, I’m still Flora Rose and that is saying a lot.

I don’t know what got into me, I’ve been turned down before and I wasn’t even propositioning this guy, but I stared at him with what should’ve been an innate use of my power to change his mind or at least change his response.

Nothing. I got nothing.

He watched me for a moment and then said, “Go to your tent. We’ll talk again in the morning.”

Like a small child or a well trained dog, I turned and went straight to my tent and went inside. As I entered the tent, I could hear Ethan turn off the lamp he’d been using as extra light and put some things away before going into his own tent. All before the last rays of light disappeared behind the mountains and we were left to the wiles and will of the forest and whatever reasoning Ethan had for people not being in the forest.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

It was only as the sun went down that I could sense part of myself coming back to life. Though not really back to life, more that I could sense what I had been, before, in the recesses of darkness and shadow all around me. Ethan, I hated to admit, may have been right in that darkness brought with it danger, things that no longer knew me or knew of me, but I couldn’t quite place what those creatures were or where they would hide during the light.

I took a seat on my cot and then folded my legs together, sitting with them crossed, before closing my eyes with the intent of finding what I could feel was still true about the world, about myself. Which is when I felt myself fall into a deep, black void that I somehow understood was my mind and my subconscious self. It was a bit surprising to find my mind inside itself, that’s how I was thinking was the best way to understand it. Before I could really grasp what was going on, other than thoughts inside thoughts, I was standing in front of myself and she was staring at me, arms crossed, her visage clearly upset, as she tapped a finger.

“What?” I asked myself.

“Oh, I think you knew perfectly well what,” she said, a bit too much of an emphasis on the what. I mean, I may be imperious when it comes to others, but with myself, that’s normally not an issue.

“I really don’t,” I said. “One minute I’m chasing a princess through the staging grounds. The next minute I’m in the middle of a forest at a different time and the forest doesn’t seem to remember me and then there’s this guy who I can’t seem to control and that’s about it.”

“You’re not very bright are you?” My other self asked me. “You’ve been caught up in a faerie ring, a trap, and now you’re stuck somewhere you’re not supposed to be.”

“I know that.”

“What are you doing to fix it?”

“What can I do to fix it? If I got caught up in a faerie ring and am now thousands of years in the future then it doesn’t quite follow that I can do a lot about it, other than figure out what’s wonky about my powers and,” I motioned at my body, “all this.”

With that motion, I took the opportunity to check myself out and found I really was more attractive and perfect than I’d realized. My hips and ass, my tits and waist, all of which were perfect, were also enough to make my mouth water and my brain to go a little wonky as I stared at my body. I considered taking advantage of myself, but then stopped when I saw other me staring and shaking her head.

“Get your head out of my pants,” she said.

“Maybe later,” I smiled and sent her a kiss-kiss.

She shook her head.

“The faerie circle is only part of the problem,” she said.

“Like, I know,” I said. “I’m being ignored by a man with a dick.”

“That’s a symptom of the problem and not the problem,” she said. “The problem is that you aren’t able to use your powers in any meaningful way. Haven’t you felt it?”

“The annoying hunger thing?”

“The annoying hunger thing,” she said. “You have to figure out how to feed that hunger or ….”

“Or what?”

“I don’t know,” she said.

“That’s not exactly helpful,” I said.

“You’re not exactly helpful,” she said.

“Hey! We’re one and the same,” I said. “Except for not wanting to take advantage of this fine body.”

“I didn’t say that,” she said, “I’m prioritizing power over passion. You have to figure this out. When you wake up in a moment, open the tent and look outside. Don’t go out.”

“What?”

“Wake up, now!” She said and …

… I was opening my eyes and staring at one of the walls of the tent. I paused, listening for something There was nothing. Not a sound. No sounds of night, no small animals skittering about. Nothing.

Standing I went to the tent door and opened it. Part of me thought about stepping outside, but having told myself not to leave the tent I looked around and didn’t see anything. Then I heard a cough and looked down.

In front of me was a small animal, a rabbit with horns. A jackalope. It waw looking up like it had something to say, which it probably did, but as I’d never seen a jackalope before or understood what their specific role in nature was, I stepped away from the opening and let it close.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the jackalope said.

“Why are you here?” I asked, not opening the tent.

“Dunno,” the jackalope said. Then, “Why you here?”