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That was the real reason I hadn’t made a move. Not when I had made us dinner, and he had lingered on my kitchen counters, watching me intently. Not when we had sat shoulder to shoulder poring over a list of what we would need to pack and what we still needed to get. Not when his hand lingered on my knee after resting it there, whilst innocently reaching for something across from me. Or when we had done the dishes, splashing water at each other and flicking each other with tea towels like schoolboys.
And certainly not when it was time to put away our plans and call it a night, both our hands lingering on the blankets I handed him, a question in his eyes, his lower lip caught between his teeth… and I had run. Because I was scared to make a move. Or accept one of his, even with the disappointment lingering in his eyes every time I failed to follow through on his hints.
Instead, that feeling that had dogged me my whole life chased me to my room, where I hid under my blankets with my back to the door. If I had never been enough for anyone before, how could I be now?
So, yeah, it had been a rough night, and the morning hadn’t been any easier. Finding Tor spread on my couch, chest bare, blankets twisted low over his hips, one arm thrown easily over his face.Ugh.
I don’t know how long I stood there, just watching him like some fucking creeper, hands flexing by my sides, desperate to touch him again after that intensealmostkiss at Billson’s. My mouth was still too dry to speak, so I busied myself making us coffee and a quick breakfast before waking him.
Turns out Torisn’ta morning person. Especially a pre-dawn morning kind of person. With a heavy dose of grumbling, he had sucked it up, and we had headed out to Kingston as the sun rose over the woods, Tor dozing over his coffee in the passenger seat of my truck. My hand itched the whole time to reach out and touch him, to make sure he was real. But instead I’d kept my hands on the wheel and my mind on our packing list.
It had taken us ’til well after lunch to get back to the homestead, dig out my old camping gear, combine it with all our new stuff and get everything ready to head on out. Usually these types of trips take weeks to prepare for.
I didn’t want to get caught in the Woods unprepared, which is why I’d had to repack Tor’s kit several times, reminding him it was necessities only. We had argued until I finally relented that yes, the camp shower bladder could be classed as a necessity. Considering he is fae, and I am part shifter, we are considerably stronger than an average human. It gives us wiggle room for our pack sizes.
Because of the type of terrain we would be covering, coupled with the weather, I estimated it was going to be about a six-day hike from the Black Stump Tavern to the place Theo had marked on the map. Maybe less if we didn’t run into any trouble and the weather held.
I have been praying that Tor’s luck is gonna get us through on this one because I am nervous. It’s not that those who live deep in Whisper Woods arebad;it is just that they aren’t human and don’t always hold to the same moralcode as the beings that live in the cities with humans. I really have no idea what dangers we could be walking into, and so I’ve packed accordingly.
My old truck takes to the turns, winding gently through the barely worn path into the Woods as if it knows its own way. We’ve been on the road for a few hours now, the dark only now setting in, and we should make it to Black Stump by late evening. Hopefully, the current owner, Roan, is in. It’s been a while since I have managed to visit my old friend and I am hoping he may have some answers for us.
“There is something watching us in the Woods.” Tor’s eyes are plastered out the window, looking intently for the thing stalking us. It had been all bloody day.
I reach over and lightly smack his shoulder. “Don’t look into the trees. Didn’t your parents ever teach you anything?”
Tor turns and stares me down with a raised eyebrow. Of course they hadn’t. His parents were useless, vapid twits. They had certainly never ventured out to the Woods, sticking to the more refined, sanctified grounds in the city.
I roll my eyes back at him with an easy smile. “It’s probably a neric. They look scary but are relatively harmless, unless you antagonise them. It has been lurking since yesterday, probably woke up from hibernation and is curious. It hasn’t eaten us yet, so don’t piss it off. Okay?”
Nerics are rarely, if ever, found outside the Woods, large bear-like creatures with grey-brown fur, poisonous claws and jaws strong enough to crush steel. Generally speaking, they are friendly and easy-going, but will stalk you for days to hunt you down if you piss them off. Tor scoffs but gives the window a nervous side-eye before fiddling with the radio again, attempting to reconnect his phone to the car stereo for music.
“It’s the magic, isn’t it? That’s why the phone keeps dropping out? I can feel it.” Giving up on the radio, he shudders, like a chill ran down his spine. Even with my watered-down shifter blood, I can feel it. It is like a pleasant tingle up my back that then spreads like a blanket over my shoulders. It feels like home.
“Yeah, the magic and technology don’t mix well. Sometimes it feels like the Woods themselves try to keep it out.”
Tor flicks his eyes out again at the dark trees. I wonder if he can see more out there than I can; he seems fascinated but nervous.
“Tell me more about the tavern we’re going to. Is this the place that you mentioned in all your stories? Am I going to meet all your friends?” Well damn, I can’t contain my grimace. This is something that I didn’t think about. It’s not like I have always been as reclusive as I am now; the farm just takes up all of my time. But therewasa time when I had spent many nights at Black Stump making a lot of dumb decisions. I just hope none of them turn up.
Thankfully, I am saved from having to answer as the muddy “road” widens, feeding into a more worn path, eventually turning to a flagstone drive leading to the big open expanse of the Black Stump Tavern.
The stone-brick pub stands like a beacon of light in the middle of the dark imposing woods. It is a bit of a hodgepodge collection of architectural styles. Having stood for several centuries, they had built on to it over the years.
The Tavern is only two stories tall but impressively big, with the bottom level all stone, with odd round windows nestled into the masonry. The second level is constructed with white stucco-like material with wooden beams and elegantly carved dormer windows of various styles.
On the opposite side of the building to the carpark is a large modern patio area filled with outdoor seating grouped together, with several fire pits. Festoon lighting is strung up under the patio roofing to make it bright and festive, despite it sitting empty. From the large cleared circle surrounding the Black Stump and its outbuildings, several paths meander into the darkness of the trees.
Tonight is a relatively quiet night at the Black Stump, not surprising considering the late hour and it being a weekday and all. The front doors are wide open, the soft sounds of beings enjoying themselves echoing through the trees.
I ease the truck around to the back portion of the car park, near where Roan lives in a small cottage behind an unused kitchen garden. Another larger cottage, that has fallen victim to time and neglect, sits next to Roan’s. Both houses are dark.
Hopefully he is working, but if not, Mauvy should be able to help. Heaving our heavy packs and gear onto our backs, we secure the car and walk in silence to the front entry, our shoulders “accidentally” brushing with our steps.
If I didn’t know better, I would think Tor is a little nervous. Maybe about possibly meeting my friends? Either way, as we approach the doors his hand finds mine and a zip of electricity shoots through my arm to my chest, making my heart do a weird little skip thing and a primitive sort of growl rattle around in my head, which is new, but I like it. I give his hand a little squeeze. He has nothing to worry about here.
Hopefully.
Tor
