Clover woke before dawn. Anxiety, rather than hunger, gnawed her insides as she replayed the confrontation with Vakur and Lily's exasperated words in her mind. The fear of the unknown and the uncertainty of what lay ahead worked to weaken her resolve. She had to at least try, she thought, as she grabbed a hunk of cheese and slipped out the door. She ducked behind a scraggly bush, crouched down, and wove a Diversion Spell.
For the next half hour, the spell would compel anyone who looked her way to avert their eyes. The Diversion Spell is why humans believe that wild fairies can only be seen in the fleeting glimpses of their peripheral vision. The spell enables fairies to hide in plain sight at the edge of perception. Before Clover realized she had abilities her childhood friends didn't, she believed she was an exceptional Hide-and-Seek player.
She hurried down the dusty road out of town. The memory of a furious Vakur Doyle, and Lily's exasperated 'wishes', spurring her on. The crow of the McKay's rooster reminded her why she was gambling with her life on this solo journey. Pushing herself harder before she lost her nerve, she followed the winding road that led up and over the rugged Boggeragh Mountains.
Lush, verdant fields and blossoming orchards stretched to the horizon. Morning sunlight turned overnight fog to steam that condensed into clouds. The fleeing clouds shed water weight as rain as they climbed the mountains. When the last of the clouds had burned off, the path over the mountains was revealed.
The steep, winding mountain trail was treacherous after the early morning rain. Mud clung to Clover's shoes, threatening to send her tumbling with each step. Determined to reach the peak, she soldiered on, only to lose her footing on the slick rocks. Blood oozed from scrapes on her knees and elbows, mixing with the mud streaking her dress. Finally, she hauled herself to the summit, exhausted and drenched to the bone.
She paused to catch her breath while pulling the cheese from her pocket. Swallowing a bite, she looked out over the other side of the mountains. The sky was gray and sullen, the rain clouds casting a pall over the landscape below. The village of Bryn was just a speck in the distance, almost swallowed up by the inclement weather.
Glenaleen and the comfort of her warm, dry bed beckoned from behind. Squinting against the distance, the familiar shape of her tree looked minuscule, unbelievably far away. This was the farthest she had ventured from the village alone, the realization both daunting and exhilarating.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Parents in Glenaleen often told their misbehaving children about a withered crone, older than the oldest trees, who wandered the fields and forests during the night. Her gnarled fingers could coax the very trees to life, commanding them to snatch up anyone who strayed too far from home. The Ancient Woman's voice, they said, was like the creaking of branches in a storm. Children who were outside the village when the sun went down were never seen again. It was said that on quiet nights, you could hear their faint cries carried on the wind.
Dismissing the childish tale, she turned toward Bryn. The town looked to be twice the distance. But between her and Bryn lay the ominous Coillte Dubha Woods, its dark reputation preceding it. The forest was said to be teeming with dangerous creatures that preyed on fairies, drawn to their magic.
Fear gnawed at her core, but she was determined to keep moving. I get to Bryn, the fairy godmother makes my power go away, and Vakur and Lily forgive me. Everyone's life goes back to normal… or I get eaten on the way. Same result.
Taking a deep breath to dismiss the grim thought, she squared her shoulders and started down the mountain. The many switchbacks on the path made the hike long and painful. Finally, she reached the bottom and faced the dreaded forest.
She wasn't prepared for the oppressive atmosphere of the woods as she stepped beneath the heavy canopy. Gnarled branches reached out like twisted claws, as if the towering trees themselves were trying to stop her. The air was thick with the scent of decay and something else… something sinister. She glanced over her shoulder, half expecting to see something lurking in the shadows. The forest felt alive, watching her every move.
The swaying branches creaked and groaned in a chorus of protest. Unidentifiable mumbling in an incomprehensible language seemed to answer from the forest depths. Was it the old woman of the forest hunting her?
Fearful her sanity was slipping, Clover pushed her legs to their limit, racing through the woods with newfound urgency. Her lungs burned, her muscles ached, but the adrenaline coursing through her veins fueled her onward. I have to make it to Bryn. To safety and the answers I need.
After an hour of brisk, adrenaline-fueled walking, Clover reached the market town of Bryn. A wooden palisade surrounded the town, unlike Glenaleen's unguarded safety. Walls of stout, sharpened logs kept out the woods' deadly creatures. The open gates gave access to a bustling market square filled with more vendors and shoppers than there were townspeople in the whole of Glenaleen.