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Ugh, I can feel this hangover already. I am getting too old for this type of shenanigans. It’s going to take me a solid week to recover. I need to sleep. But I’ll be dreaming of you, my delicious mountain man. Later x
I stand at the edge of the pumpkin patch and stare a little too long at that little “x”, my heart beating a strange fluttery rhythm in my chest, while something new and different itches at my insides. A primaeval part of me awakening. Obviously, it means nothing. But still it feels like something.
Talk soon glitterballz x
Caelan
Winter's End
I pull at thelast strap tying the load to the back of my old beaten truck, making sure it is one hundred percent secure. Much to my relief, the last of the winter’s big snow hasfinallycleared enough to make my way into the small town of Whisper Wells. Spring is so close I can smell it in the air. Not only am I more than ready for the end of the ice-cold days, it is past time to head into town to pick up supplies and drop off some of my creations from my winter isolation.
I am mostly self-sufficient out here on the outskirts of Whispering Woods; the homestead having been in the family for generations, long before my wolf shifter great-grandfather knocked up my great-grandmother. Causedquitethe stir in their rather secluded and none-too being-friendly town.
Despite being nearly encircled by the enchanted Whisper Woods, Whisper Wells’ notoriously unwelcoming stance meant that even the beings that lived in the Woods preferred to make their way into the world through other paths. And that wasfinewith the people of Whisper Wells.
Being a town pariah had been too much for my mother, Estella. She had been desperate to escape the small-town life she had hated so much; she had run away from home halfway through high school, fleeing to the other side of the country, as far as she could from her parents and her heritage, to cities where mixed beings were accepted, only returning briefly twenty four years ago with me in tow to deliver me to her parents. Mum didn’t have an answer for who my father was. I was always grateful that they had been willing and lovingly able to take me in.
My mum hasn’t stepped foot in her childhood hometown again, but she kept in touch over the years with letters and phone calls. It sucks, but it is what it is. Ican’t force her to love me. Even though I killed myself as a teen, trying to make her proud enough to finally notice me. Either way, her abandonment of me somewhat changed the sympathies of the town and theyreluctantlyembraced me and my grandparents, Ma and Pop, right up until their deaths five winters ago. I still miss them.
Not everyone is welcoming, but you can’t be liked by everyone, can you? Still, even those that think I am an unrepentant monster who is going to come and eat their children in the night, still buy the furniture I make and the specialty alcohols I brew and deliver to town. I’m also the first person they call when someone has ventured too far into the Woods.
Even if they could go past the neutral zone, they all fear the beasties that live within. What the townspeople don’t know is that some of those beasties are averygood time, and if you follow the right path, for about a day’s drive, you will find the kick-ass Black Stump Tavern, where I spent far too many nights in my younger days, getting far too drunk. Much to Ma’s disgust and Pop’s amusement.
I still like to stop in for a drink whenever I can. But it’s a lot less often now than it used to be.
I give my homestead one last sweep, confirming that the chickens are secure in their yard. Henny has a shit habit of masterminding her way out and into the veggie garden. Or worse, the house. She is a menace, and the reason I have been putting off getting goats or other livestock. Her shenanigans are enough to deal with.
Everything is good to go, so I hop into the cab of my truck and pull out my phone, settling into the worn leather seats. Chucking on a random playlist, I swallow the thick disappointment when I notice thatGlitterballz,or Tor as he is actually known, still has not replied.
It is still early in the day for him, but it has been more than two weeks since I’ve heard from him. Andthatis unusual. Since that first morning at the end of autumn there had been a near constant flurry of messages. Good morning selfies, funny memes andhow’s it going?
The conversation eventually evolved into day long Facetimes; him keeping me company while I puttered around my workshops, and he got ready for work. Or movie marathons from across the country, us settled onto separate couches watching dumb teen comedies from our youth, or better yet trashy reality TV shows with Tor keeping a running commentary on the celebrities he knew personally.
Together yet separate, he had always been there.
And then, when the darkest depths of winter had settled, and the sky was black for days, we stayed awake drinking beneath our lonesome blankets, sharing our deepest selves. What we hoped for in our lives. Our resentments with our shitty parents. His fear of being a shallow, soulless socialite like his parents. His growing distaste for his life in the city.
He had pulled out from me my resentment about always walking in two worlds. Never belonging. The horrible ways the people in my town had turned their backs on me over the years, their slight digs and overt rejections. Or worse, when I had been at my most vulnerable and I had tried to seek out my “pack”. Things I had never shared with anyone.
Because no one had ever asked.
But Tor had. For the first time in my life, I feltseen.
Gods, I had even talked him through several terrible and uneventful dates. Which hadn’t been great. Despite how important he’s become to me, I know I don’t have any claim. Gods, I’ve never even met him. But I hadn’t been able to escape that horrible burn of jealousy that had creeped over my shoulders, making my skin too tight and itchy and my fingers clench involuntarily. Something growly and twisty had settled in my guts and I hadn’t been able to sleep until he had messaged that he was home safe. And alone.
But now he isn’t answering. It’s like he has disappeared.
I shift in the seat, shrugging off my melancholia, not really paying attention to the generic rock playlist I’d chucked on, nor the creature I am vaguely aware is hiding in the trees that line the edge of the winding road down the hill into town.
Best to just ignore it and move along.
Unfortunately, ignoring the scenery and the monotonous, winding road into town gives me more time to think about Tor and his disappearance.
Our last messages had been the usual flirty banter, plans for the upcoming spring and Tor’s concern about his younger brother, Theo, who is currently studying Fae History and Lore.
Tor had never spoken highly of his family,exceptfor Theo. He gushed about his younger brother and all of his accomplishments. Theo is apparently a mega genius, and not only different from the usual fae mould but also the elite social class he and Tor grew up in.
Tor had been worried his brother had gone missing after a trip into the Woods. We’d talked about it a few times, when Tor had been worried about his brother’s increasingly withdrawn behaviour before he disappeared, and I had tried to comfort Tor. But we both knew for an inexperienced being to enter the Woods, alone, in the middle of winter was a death wish.
