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Tor set up our protective wards to keep out any unfriendly beings and conjured a small fire to prepare our dinner packs. It had been a companionable silence as we ate and tidied our camp before crawling into our tent. I had made sure our sleeping bags were zipped together, but we had been too exhausted to do anything but pass out the moment that our heads had hit the pillow.
Day two had been much the same. We had started out early, the air so frosty we had to pile on extra layers. Our breath made little puffs of white smoke over our morning coffee and protein bar breakfast.
As the day warmed and we made our way along the winding path, I could see that the Woods were starting to affect Tor. There was still the anxiety in his eyes about his brother; it seemed to wash over him in waves. But as we walked deeper into the Woods, I could see him easing. His shoulders relaxed; his limbs became looser. The tense perfect facade he kept hold of for his real life dropping away almost completely, channelling his magic to entice spring blossoms to bloom and icy winds to whip under my shirt layers. Something he apparently foundhilarious.
More creatures had made themselves known as we’d ventured further in. Tor had been delighted to see a wild phoenix nesting in the trees on our path. We’d stopped to watch for a while, marvelling at its vibrant red and orange feathers until it had noticed us in return and had let rip an ear-splitting screech, warning us to move on.
We had also heard the thunderous hooves of a centaur herd moving through the woods. Tor had been a little too keen to hunt them out to see if the brawny half-men were as handsome and well-hung as he’d heard. I’d had little choice but to pin him to a tree, and kissed him until we were both desperate and brainless to remind him he was mine.
It was only later, when he not so subtly adjusted himself and leaned heavily against me, his hand once again in mine that I saw his smug smile and the glint in his pale blue eyes. I had realised then that had been his plan all along. The cheeky shit.
We stopped for camp early, wanting a chance to rest as we found a perfect clear spot for the night. Tor conjured a flame that he once again nurtured into a roaring fire while I put together our small two-man tent and sleeping bags.
It was kind of surprising how after three days together, including two days of hiking, we had yet to get on each other’s nerves. We stayed up too late; him pressed hard against me, a sleeping bag wrapped tight around us, talking shit and roasting the marshmallows he had smuggled into his pack under the light of the waxing moon. It was everything I hadn’t allowed myself to fantasise about all through those lonely hours of winter, when he was just a face on a screen, all those miles away from me.
Today is our third day in the Woods, and we have followed the creek further in, taking us away from the routes I have travelled further into the depths of the Woods. It’s darker here, even in the middle of the day, the sun struggling to break through the density of the trees, snow still piled high along the path. The magic is stronger here, too. It feels like an itch under my skin, a tingle up my spine.
I haven’t told Tor but I’ve been secretly worried that my Shifter blood isn’t going to be strong enough to continue much further into the Woods before I am denied entrance, before we can find Theo.
We settle for lunch beside the creek, unpacking our meal and setting up a small fire to keep us warm and heat our food. Earlier in the day, Tor had found a small patch of wild strawberries, barely making their way in the frost, and had used his magic to nurture them to ripe juicy berries that we enjoy for dessert.
It’s peaceful here in our clearing, the birds singing, the breeze rustling the trees; us enjoying each other. It is all too easy to forget the urgency of our trek, to get lost in ourselves. Maybe one day, when this is all over, we can come back and spend a few nights here in the Woods together. Maybe Tor would be willing to take a break from the city and come and visit again.
It feels stupid to be hopeful, but even I am not dense enough to miss the way he seeks my touch without thinking, or the soft looks he sends my way when he thinks I’m not looking. Maybe we can make this work in the long term? I let the thoughts chase themselves through my head as I pack up our dishes and bank the fire. We need to get on our way for the next leg of the journey. But I am also desperate for a piss, so I quickly excuse myself from our lunch camp.
Hiking for days in the Woods has led to a real lack of privacy and the cold has made our camp showers much more efficient and significantly less sexy. Again, maybe if Tor comes back in the summer we can come camping when it isn’t cold enough to freeze your balls off. While I take care of my business, I let my mind wander into daydreams of Tor and me and lazy summer days in the Woods.
I am finishing up my business and tucking myself away when a violent wind rushes through the trees, like a tunnel, whipping towards me, then wrapping itself around me. As the miniature tornado pulls at me, the Woods burst to life, a chorus of screeching birds and beings sounding a warning. The wind itself seems to be pulling me back to camp where Tor is waiting.
Panic floods my body, a hot tear of fear rooting my feet to the ground for a moment before there is an almighty shove to my back, knocking me forward.I have to get to Tor.I race through the trees to the clearing, my lungs seizing in terror when I see Tor is nowhere to be found.
“Tor!” I scream his name at the top of my lungs, over the racket circling the once calm clearing. Wind roars through the trees, animals and sprites shrieking frantically. I take a deep breath and cast my eyes over the grassy clearing again, trying to keep calm as the wind whips and pulls at me.
Our packs are still stacked together next to the fire that is surging dangerously in the chaos. Nothing else seems disturbed. Except… our dishes are by the creek? Tor had obviously been washing them before he disappeared.
It’s then I see the splash in the creek. Fuckingfuck. Heart in my throat, blood pumping in my ears, I race to the edge of the creek where, in the crystal-clear water, amermaidhas him pinned under the water.
The androgynous beast has a dark blue-green flat wide face with thick hairless ridges for eyebrows, giant round black eyes and an almost lipless mouth full of sharp jagged teeth. Their frill-framed face is pulled into a vicious sneer under the churning water.
I have no idea how long Tor has been under the water but it’s obvious he has fallen unconscious, unable to fight against the steel-like bands of the creature’s arms around him. Their webbed hands dig into Tor’s skin, tail thrashing wildly to keep Tor pinned under the water.
I look along the creek bank for a weapon, having foolishly left my knives in our packs, lulled into a wildly false sense of security. Spying a particularly rough and heavy-looking rock, I grasp it and slam the rock down on the creature’s head with all my strength.
The being lets loose an unholy screech, echoing through the water. Their wide black eyes lock on me as I bring the rock down again. One slick green-blue arm releases Tor to defend the blow. Seizing the moment, I secure my grip on Tor’s arm and rip him from the mermaid’s loosened grasp, flinging him behind me, out of reach onto the grass. Never have I been more grateful for the strength afforded me by my partial shifter status. The creature screeches again, a hollow endless sound, reaching desperately for me, for Tor, any victim they can grasp.
I bring the rock down again, as hard as I can, striking the beast on their temple, blood pouring from the site, the creature dazed and irate. With Tor free from the mermaid's clutches, I stumble back out of reach, my ass falling to the soft grass behind me, scrambling to pull myself and Tor back further onto the soft, snowy grass.
The mermaid follows, pulling their slick upper body onto the grass as far as they can. But they must realise the futility of their mission, that there is no way to follow us on shore. Hissing one more time, they bare their gnarly teeth and with one thumping flick of their shimmering midnight blue tail; they surge off upstream, leaving a bloody trail in their wake.
Beside me, Tor lies motionless. Terror seizes me again as I check his vital signs. He isn’t breathing.Fuck, I can’t think, fear paralysing my brain. My hands flutter uselessly over him as I desperately try to remember basic CPR. The chaos of the Woods has died down, an eerie silence descending. Like the Woods are waiting for me todosomething. A whisper of a breeze gently whirls around me, circling up my body, tickling my face like a breath.Breath! I need to breathe for him.
I quickly measure the distance on his chest with my hands and start the compressions and alternate breaths, remembering the beat to an old disco song like we had been taught back in high school. Back and forth I continue, I don’t even know how long for. It feels like an eternity, unwilling to listen to my fatiguing body, terrified I am breaking his ribs, causing him more damage or pain. Praying that his fae healing abilities will pull him out of his unconsciousness soon.
All the while, the gentle breeze circles me, circles us. As if the Woods are waiting with bated breath for his recovery.Please,I beg the Gods silently. I am faltering now, dread mounting in my bones, the adrenaline in my body crashing, depleting me, as the time ticks on and his icy blue eyes remain shut, his body lifeless. I can still feel his heartbeat, weak and limp. It feels like hours, days, since I started, but maybe it has only been minutes. I don’t know, I just know I can’t lose Tor. Not here, not now.
Tor
This is what Iget for trying to do a nice thing.
