Clay stood on a branch several feet in the air. The breeze whipped at his face, a familiar sensation, its presence comforting. The open sky and the wind’s wild embrace made so many memories resurface in his mind. Memories of flight—endless hours in the vast sky in his owl form. It was like a long-lost, dear friend. The wind took off his hat, and the orange accessory danced on the breeze before landing in some bushes far below.
Holly, Flint, and Clay had searched for the tallest tree in the forest, and they’d eventually come across this one. It was a massive oak north of Sagewood, with strong, stocky branches and a height that rivaled Matt’s farmhouse. It had been difficult to climb with one arm, but Clay was determined. He hadn’t used his animal form since losing the limb. But that would very soon change.
“This is a bad idea,” Flint called from below.
“Do a flip when you jump off!” Holly called, even louder. “It’ll look so cool before you splat like a bug!”
Flint shot her a glare and muttered something that Clay was too high up to hear.
His arm was gone. He’d grown used to it. But maybe, just maybe, his animal form would be different. Maybe his animal form would grow its wing back, somehow. He was here to find out. He was here to fly again.
Clay took a deep breath to steady himself, then spread his arm and his stump and bent his legs.
After only the barest hesitation, he jumped.
In the brief few seconds he fell, he managed to do a flip and shift into his owl form. Unfortunately, he was indeed missing a wing. He flapped wildly, trying to slow his fall, but his one good wing was of no use.
He crashed to the ground in a heap of white feathers and groaned as he reverted to his sprite form. “Ouch,” he whispered miserably.
“Maybe you should’ve tested your animal form before you climbed the tree. At least just to see if your wing had grown back.” Flint stepped over to Clay and offered a hand to pull him up.
Clay didn’t take it but instead rolled to his back and gazed up at the vast blue sky. Flying had been his favorite thing before, and now… he’d probably never do it again.
He felt tears sting his eyes. He didn’t bother to blink them away in front of Holly and Flint.
“Hey, it’s all right, Clay,” Flint said, taking a seat next to him on the ground. “There’s lots of other things you can do. You just have to focus on those instead.”
“Yeah, focus on the things you can do with only one arm,” Holly added, a sarcastic edge to her voice. Flint glared at her, and her expression softened. “But seriously, don’t beat yourself up too much. I wouldn’t have had the guts to try that. Not in a million years.”
Clay continued staring up at the cloudless sky. The sky he felt he belonged in, but probably never would be a part of again. He scrubbed the tears from his face and nodded. There were other things Matt and the others had put him in charge of. He took care of the chickens and gathered their eggs almost every morning—though it took him twice as long as it had before. He helped Holly pick wildflowers every few days, and even helped Maple in the kitchen. Sometimes.
Clay sighed before sitting up. He would have to look at the sky another time. He had to head to the clinic in town to meet with Dr. Night for a check-up soon. He groaned as he stood, feeling a sharp pain in his shoulder.
“Are you hurt?” Flint asked, standing quickly to help Clay.
Clay shook his head, the pain already lessening. Minor wounds were so easily healed with magic. Major wounds, like a missing limb, weren’t so easily mended. “I’m fine. Just landed weird is all,” Clay shrugged off Flint’s concern.
“Good thing you’re going to the doctor,” Holly remarked. “Maybe he can look at that for you. Also, your nose is bleeding.”
“Just a little,” Flint added, pulling a gauze strip out of his bag and offering it to Clay. “Do you want me to come to the doctor with you?”
Clay shook his head again, starting to feel annoyed with how much Flint was babying him. “I’ll be fine on my own,” he replied curtly before turning on his heel and heading into town.
Flint and Holly stared after him, one wearing a concerned expression, the other wearing a frown.
***
It was starting to get dark, and Clay stayed in the forest next to the path so no villager would spot him. Fortunately, he didn’t see anybody, and so he was able to keep a relaxed pace as he traveled. The woods were peaceful, and he was able to let his mind wander away from his injury and all the other things that had been bothering him lately.
Eventually, he arrived at the clinic and tapped on the window Dr. Night had told him to come through for his check-ups. Clay looked through the glass, noticing that the nurse had already gone, which was a shame. He liked scaring her by tapping on the window and disappearing as soon as she looked in his direction.
Dr. Night let him in, his jolly demeanor doing little to improve Clay’s mood.
“Hello, Clay! Should we check and see how that arm is doing?” The doctor was kind, especially toward sprites. He’d treated them all for various wounds at different times over the years, making sure they all stayed healthy.
Clay unwrapped the bandage but remained quiet.
Dr. Night examined his arm, using strange instruments and measuring tools on his stump. Clay sat patiently, waiting for him to be done. He just wanted to go home and be with the chickens the rest of the night. The chickens didn’t care that he had only one arm. And even though they didn’t know it, they were all flightless birds. Like he now was.
“Well, that’s healing up nicely,” Dr. Night said after several minutes of poking and prodding. “Does it still hurt at all?”
Clay shook his head. It didn’t hurt anymore.
The doctor scribbled some notes on a clipboard, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “Well, I can put it in a sling, or we can just continue using the bandage. Which one is more comfortable for you?”
“The bandage,” Clay said flatly.
Dr. Night paused, as if really seeing Clay for the first time since he’d climbed through the window. “Is everything all right, Clay? I can get you some more pain medicine.”
Clay shook his head. “No. It’s just… I can’t really use my animal form anymore. It doesn’t have a wing.”
“Can I see?” Dr. Night asked.
Clay nodded and shifted into an owl, stretching out his lopsided wingspan. Flint was right, he probably should’ve checked before he’d climbed that tree, but he’d been too nervous. Too nervous for this exact reason. The wing was gone, a nagging reminder of the night it had been… abruptly removed from his body.
After a brief inspection from Dr. Night, Clay shifted back into his sprite form, feeling more sullen than he had before.
“I’m sorry to see that. It was always a possibility. You did lose the limb in your animal form, correct?”
Clay nodded.
“And when Woods took it off, were there any secondary wounds? Any other bites or anything like that?”
Clay’s shoulders sank. He hated how Dr. Night could talk so casually about what had happened. “There wasn’t any secondary damage,” Clay mumbled, his heart sinking. It hadn’t been Woods’ fault. If it was anyone’s fault, it was Clay’s. Matt had told him to stay away from Woods, but he hadn’t listened to him. Although he knew the doctor and Finn and Matt probably held Woods responsible for the missing limb, Clay never would. Woods hadn’t meant to hurt him.
“Well, there’s no sign of infection, so all we can do is wait. You never know with magical beings.” The doctor wrote something else on his clipboard. “Like I said, if you need any more pain medicine, or if your bandage accidentally comes off, you can always come back here. Just remember to keep it clean—no mudball fights. Any questions?”
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Clay shook his head.
“All right, then.” The doctor stood and smiled. “Don’t forget to grab a lollipop on your way out.”
***
Finn sat in the huge oak tree just west of the farm. Reed had shown him this tree a few days ago, telling him it was where Woods had stubbornly stayed every single night he’d been on the farm, despite Matt’s and the other sprites’ attempts to get him to stay with them in the comfortable farmhouse. Finn quirked a half smile. It was just like Woods to act like that—to be stubborn for no apparent reason.
Still, Woods and Finn were twins, and they were similar in the way they both sought solitude. Finn looked up at the full moon, the first one of the new year. The night sky was obscured with clouds, but they only covered the stars—the bright moon was fully in view. It was a silent, serene night, but still a bit too chilly for Finn. He’d make his way back to the farmhouse eventually. Right now, everyone was engaged in an intense game of Uno, a card game that Finn didn’t care for.
Finn and Melvin had stayed with Woods late into the evening, but there hadn’t been a significant shift in his condition. Woods hadn’t woken up. His aura remained feeble, yet Finn sensed a miniscule strengthening over those few hours. After dubious documentation, Melvin had departed for the Sagewood Inn, and the Forest Spirit had arrived soon after, standing sentinel over Woods for the night. Finn still felt weak from having a large portion of his magic drained away, and he refrained from raising his hopes too high, but a tiny glimmer of happiness stirred within him. For the moment, it seemed the transfusion might have worked, and Woods might eventually come back. He just hoped it was the uncorrupt, normal version of Woods… not the monster he had become.
He let out a sigh and leaned against the tree trunk, wondering if this was the same branch his brother had rested on every night before he’d succumbed to corruption sickness.
Without warning, a female voice cut through the quiet of the night. “Woods? Are you up there?”
Finn yelped and flailed wildly as he fell out of the tree in surprise, landing on the ground below. He sat up, unharmed, but his heart raced as he looked around for the source of the voice, which was now laughing at him, a twinkling sound that the owner tried to muffle as best she could.
“Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you,” she said, her voice low. “I just wanted to see you one last time before we headed back to the Isles.”
Finn finally discovered who was talking to him. It was the southern sprite from earlier, the one with the long hair and dark red eyes. She approached and crouched next to him. Finn forced a polite smile, his mind racing. What was her name again? And why would she be seeking out Woods?
“I missed you,” she said after a moment. “It’s been a long time.”
Finn blinked, struggling to keep his features emotionless. What was she talking about? Finn drew his eyebrows together, knowing he should say something, but wasn’t quite sure what to say.
“Um… it’s good to see you too,” he said, hoping to keep things polite and distant. Finn stood and dusted himself off. “Sorry, I can’t stay and chat, I’ve got to… help the farmer with something.” He took a step toward the farmhouse, but the other sprite blocked his path, putting her hands on her hips as she looked at him with a coy smile. “You don’t even have a couple of minutes to spend with me?”
Finn’s mouth went dry as he searched for a polite way out of this conversation. He cleared his throat before speaking. “Well, it’s just… I wouldn’t want to keep you from your travels. The Isles are a long way away from here.” He winced at the uncertainty in his voice, which Woods definitely wouldn’t have. He cleared his throat again, trying to force his brother’s usual gravitas. “Do you and your fellow sprites need anything before you depart?”
Her gaze flickered up and down, her eyes narrowing. “I think you know what I need.”
Finn chuckled, straining to keep his unease out of it. What is she talking about?!
His brain went fuzzy for a moment as he struggled to put together a response. “Well, it was good catching up with you...” he trailed off as he tried to recall the sprite’s name again, but realized he’d never learned it in the first place. He cleared his throat, hoping she didn’t notice.
Before he could continue to the farmhouse, however, she moved so close that she was practically nose to nose with him, staring at him from underneath thick eyelashes. Finn’s ears began to burn as he took a step back, but the sprite took another step forward, and he another step back. Finn soon found himself cornered, his back against the tree with no hope of escape.
“We haven’t even caught up on anything.” She leaned in closer, her face mere centimeters away.
He cleared his throat, hoping she couldn’t see how red his face was in the dark. Was he reading this situation correctly? She and Woods couldn’t possibly have been romantically involved. Woods would’ve told Finn about something like that. Finn’s shoulders slumped slightly as he realized Woods would’ve kept a secret like this well-guarded. Still, sprites usually stayed together for life, it was unlikely they’d have separated for hundreds of years if they were ever in a relationship. But then again, Finn knew very little of his brother’s life, so anything was possible.
He swallowed hard, his mind searching for a way out of this uncomfortable situation. "I should really be getting back to the others,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “But it was nice to see you again.”
The female sprite pouted, her eyes still fixed on him. “You used to be more fun, Woods,” she said, her voice tinged with disappointment.
Finn bristled at the use of his brother’s name, but he tried not to let it show. There was no way she was talking about his brother. Woods? Fun? Woods wasn’t ever fun. He, Finn, was the fun one. Everybody knew that. Finn stared at the sprite, probably for too long, trying to decipher exactly what was going on. Did she somehow know that he was just masquerading as his brother? He needed to get out of this situation before things escalated any further.
“I’m already late for that… thing,” he said, swallowing hard. “I really must be going.” He looked down at her sultry-eyed gaze. He had to admit, she was rather pretty, even for a southern sprite. She gave him a small, demure smile that made his heart speed up. Her expression softened, and she reached out to touch his arm. Finn flinched slightly at the contact, but he didn't pull away.
“Do you remember the last thing you said to me before I left for the Isles? Does that offer still stand?”
“Ummm...” Finn said stupidly, his brain no longer working. Between the soft light of the moon, and the beautiful sprite in front of him, he knew he was in trouble. Finn’s heart hammered in his chest as he struggled to keep his wits about him. This was not the situation he had anticipated when he’d agreed to pretend to be his brother. The sprite’s words had him reeling—what offer had Woods made before he left for the south? And what had Finn unwittingly stumbled into now?
The female sprite’s demure smile turned predatory in an instant. “I know you’re not Woods. He’s smart enough to never let me get this close to him.” Finn felt a blade point press against his chest, and he inhaled sharply.
“Ah,” he said, laughing nervously as relief flooded through him, even as she pressed the blade harder against his chest, the point threatening to dig into his skin. “Thank goodness I read this situation totally wrong,” he said, his ears burning even more now, “For a minute there, I was worried where this was headed.” He let out a low chuckle, trying to diffuse the tension in the air.
“Tell me everything,” the female sprite demanded. “Where is the real Woods?”
Finn shrugged nonchalantly, disregarding the blade she held to him. He wasn’t sure of this sprite’s fighting skills, but so far, he’d never met a sprite that could best his animal form, even his brother, so he wasn’t worried. He grimaced as he remembered the transfusion. He wouldn’t be able to use his crocodile form for a while—he didn’t have enough magic and wouldn’t for the foreseeable future. “Listen, I don’t know what you want with Woods, but he’s gone. He died.”
“Then why pretend to be him?” she asked, her voice tinged with venom.
He flashed her a charming smile. “For the glory, of course,” Finn said smoothly. “When people find out you’re the great hero of the culling, they treat you nicely. A lot nicer than they’d treat his deadbeat twin brother, that's for sure.”
The sprite narrowed her eyes at him. “How did he die then?”
Finn could feel the sprite’s suspicion growing as he hesitated for a few long seconds. He hadn't thought his lie through, and he cursed himself for talking himself into a corner.
A smug smile spread across the female sprite’s face. “He’s here on the farm, isn’t he?”
Finn cleared his throat. “Supposedly, southern sprites are expert trackers,” he said, feigning confidence. “If he were here, it wouldn’t be any problem for you to find him.”
“We did track him here, but there are ways to hide your magical aura,” the sprite responded.
Finn stared at her for a long moment before responding. “What’s your name?”
“Skye,” she answered.
“And that’s your real name?”
She didn’t answer, only narrowed her eyes at him and nodded.
Finn thought for a moment. Without his crocodile form, it would be difficult, but doable. He needed to stay alert if he was to get out of this situation unscathed.
“How exactly do you know my brother? You had me questioning how committed I was to keeping up the act. Did you two ever, uhh...” He trailed off, leaving the implication hanging in the air.
Skye didn't take the bait. Instead, she pressed the knife closer to Finn’s chest, a cold gleam in her eyes. “No. He just helped me and my comrades escape to the south during the culling, and I never forget a magical aura.” She narrowed her eyes at him, an evil smile crossing her face. Finn’s heart sank. He had underestimated Skye’s intuition. She was cleverer than he had anticipated. “It’s strange,” she continued. “Even though you two are twins, your auras couldn’t be more different.”
“And what’s my aura like? Roguish? Suave?”
“Annoying,” she replied flatly.
“That’s interesting,” Finn replied. “Because for a moment there, I could have sworn that you were attracted to me.”
“I’m a good actor.”
“If you say so,” he said. “You may be good at reading auras, but I’m good at reading eyes. And yours seem a bit too fond of looking me up and down.”
Surprisingly, that seemed to strike a nerve. The barest hint of color flushed into her cheeks. “Just take me to him,” she said, rolling her eyes in exasperation.
“And what if I don’t?” he asked. He could tell she was getting flustered with him, but he was only returning the favor. She’d loosened her grip on the knife, and it was no longer tight against his chest. He stepped away from the tree trunk and breathed a sigh of relief.
A second later, Finn picked up another magical aura. Someone grabbed his arms from behind and clamped magic-repressing cuffs onto his wrists. Finn struggled against them, cursing himself for being careless. With the cuffs on, he was extremely limited. He should have sensed this new sprite earlier, but he was too distracted by Skye. He turned to look at his captor and recognized Alder, the leader of the southern sprites.
“I didn’t think you were Woods either, just for the record. But I wasn’t about to bat my eyelashes and sweettalk you to get it out of ya.” Alder smirked. His drawl grated on Finn’s nerves.
Alder grinned widely. “I just got back from Sagewood. Cute little town. Did you know there’s a doctor there that specializes in treating magical creatures like sprites? You might need to visit him when we’re done getting information out of you.”
Finn swallowed hard. Clay was supposed to visit Dr. Night’s clinic tonight to assess his arm. Alder couldn’t have possibly followed Clay, could he?
Finn glared at the sprites. “This is why nobody likes you southern—” Before he could finish his sentence, Alder brought down the base of his staff on Finn’s head, and everything went black.