Chapter 1
Screams of abuse shattered the peaceful air of the White Mountain Village as Emma retreated from the gathering near the lake, a scowl on her face as she wrung water from her dripping hair and clothes.
She should know better by now, she really should, and she only has herself to blame for her current wet state (despite how satisfyingly comical it was for the other party). It was pure silliness to expect gratefulness from this lot when she was trying to help.
Her intent when she put together a chair with wheels, was to help one of the Village girls, who had twisted her ankle in an attempt to ride one of the wild horses. (And who subsequently bucked her off before she was halfway on, completely unimpressed by her posturing of "taming unschooled beasts").
Despite medicinal help, little else could be done beyond rest and care and she would complain to anyone and anything about Emma's inaptitude to heal (who as the youngest healer at 15, had little to say in the matter of who her patients are). And while most people rolled their eyes at the girl's adolescent behaviour, none would deny her statement or defend Emma, despite evidence being on the complete contrary.
So, against her better judgement, Emma cobbled her invention together with haste but not without care and testing it herself to ensure its reliability and sturdiness (and almost running over Pipa, her blue-tongue lizard, in the process).
How was she to know the brat would panic at the slightest movement? Or lose control so fast that it sent her careening down the mild slope towards the lake, her wails of fear slicing through the air, where the Villagers bore witness to her spectacular dive into the water as Emma's invention shattered against the bordering rocks.
While the Villagers murmured amongst themselves, Emma had dived in to drag her out, only to be greeted with flailing arms, a face full of wet clothes and incoherent yelling.
Mourning the loss of her newest invention, Emma dragged the girl out of the water and dumped her unceremoniously on the banks. Upon seeing the more than judgemental stares and whispers of the Villagers, she narrowed her eyes and decided a hasty retreat would help her sanity.
As she passed through the protective barrier and into the forest, a sense of calm settled over her. Her feet automatically carried her along the familiar path to her favourite hideout, the one that lingers in the grey area between Fae and the Outside world. There is general (strong) disapproval in straying here, at the risk of being exposed to the outsiders but Emma never had such qualms, enjoying the less-than-rare sightings and the quiet it affords her, knowing she's less likely to be followed.
Except, of course, she always was. Emma sighed as she acknowledged the presence that ghosted her footsteps.
"Can you please leave me be? I'm not going anywhere dangerous," she turned to face the mist hovering over her shoulder, the one that shrouded the Village from prying eyes. She knows it's her Aunt Ingrid's way of keeping an eye on her.
Knowing it wouldn't listen to her anyway, Emma clambered onto the nearest tree. A cedar she calls her own, where she often whiled away many hours nestled comfortably on its large bough. The branches immediately moved to shield her from view and blocking her elemental minder.
Cocooned in the safety of the tree's embrace, Emma stripped off her damp tunic, draping it over the branches where the breeze and strips of sunlight would hopefully dry it off. She ran her fingers through her hair, wincing at the knots that had gathered from the wet strands. Huffing out an annoyed breath, Emma settled back with her arms behind her head, trying to push away at the thought of the lecture she will receive from Ingrid once she gets back.
While Emma knows Ingrid loves her like her own child, they never saw eye to eye on anything. Her upbringing has been strict and firm but never lacking in nurtured care. This was reflected in her studies but not in the abilities she is supposed to possess as the niece of the last Elder. Sight, glamour and elemental control are the expected abilities of a direct descendant, ones which Ingrid possess, whereas Emma only seems to present an affinity for plants and animals.
While Ingrid never commented on the lack of magic, she never actively encouraged Emma in this endeavour either, insisting instead on coaching her on medicinal herbs and their healing properties, as well as other mundane tasks that would be sure to earn her a good husband. (Emma sometimes wonders whether its ignorance or denial that has Ingrid thinking anyone in the village would give her the time of day).
As if sensing her declining mood, an apple dropped into her lap from an overhanging branch. Smiling in thanks, Emma took a bite, tilting her head back and marvelling at the way the light danced among the canopy of trees.
She awoke to the soft clop of hooves, alerting her to the eminent approach of a traveller. Stretching the kinks out of her shoulders, Emma peered through the foliage out of interest. A lone figure appeared on its stead, face and body obscured by a heavy cloak and hood. A rustle below her caught her attention; it took her a moment to identify the person hidden amongst the bush, well camouflaged by a green cloak. He made a gesture towards the approaching figure. Alarmed, Emma glanced around and spotted four more men hidden within the greenery.
Bandits.
The mist started drifting in. "Not now," Emma hissed, waving it away.
Ghostly apparitions appeared along the branches, small white forms solidifying into a doughy human shape, small enough to fit into the palm of Emma's hand, and minimalistic in their features with black eyes and mouth. Emma took a sharp intake of breath. Forest spirits appear in times of danger or during significant events and Emma was willing to bet on the former. They peered at the newcomers, head quirking from side to side and making its tell-tale rattle.
As the unwary traveller drew closer, one of the bandits from the opposite side moved forward, dagger at the ready. Snatching at the first thing her hand could find, Emma lobbed her half-eaten apple at him, hitting him between the eyes and sending him reeling back into the underbrush.
The mist tugged at her hair and clothes in earnest, trying its best to dissuade her from getting involved further; she batted it away impatiently. The other bandits paused, slightly puzzled as they searched for the source of their companion's mild (and embarrassing) downfall.
Unfortunately, it also caught the attention of the traveller who slowed with an air of confusion. The bandit below her took the opportunity, grabbing his weapon and making his way forward.
Without thinking, Emma leapt.
Later on, she'll blame the thickening mist rather than her own gross miscalculation when with a grunt, she crashed into the rider instead, sending them both to the ground.
Emma raised her head to the bluest eyes she has ever seen. The owner attached to said eyes didn't look half bad himself. Looking only a few years older than her with dark hair pulled back into a short ponytail, strong jawline with a hint of a scruff. Stunned, they both stared at each other until a movement in her peripheral vision reminded her of more pressing issues to attend to.
Stumbling upright, Emma grabbed a fallen tree branch before approaching the nearest bandit who leered at her with teeth that had (hopefully) seen better days. The fact he wasn't taking her remotely seriously meant the first hit to his stomach gave her immense satisfaction as the smug look was effectively wiped off his face. He put up a weak defence, clearly not anticipating her ability to fight.
Behind her, she can hear scuffling and while she knew her green friends will keep an eye on the traveller, she risked a quick glance his way as her opponent stumbled over a monstrous root that has suddenly popped up, only to see the traveller expertly wielding a sword. Apparently, there was no need to worry about him.
In the end, a hard placed knock to the head rendered the bandit unconscious. She spun to face the others, to find a trail of dust left behind by his disappearing associates. The traveller was sheathing his sword and did not look remotely ruffled or out of breath.
"You can fight," she realised as hot embarrassment swept through her at her stupidity for exposing herself. No wonder the mist tried to hold her back.
"So can you," he replied, nodding at the unconscious heap behind her, looking somewhat amused.
"I thought I was helping you," Emma said, as if in apology and winced at how defensive it sounded.
Definitely amused now, he quirked an eyebrow at her, eyes intent upon her face. "You fell on me."
Emma was about to protest that she thought he was in danger when he said, "Thank you."
He smiled at the blank look on her face. "Not many people would step in to help, regardless of the method."
Emma shrugged, unsure of how to respond so instead turned back to the situation on hand. "What happened to the others?"
"Those men decided to see reason. Although…" he frowned as his sentence trailed away, glancing into the depths of the forest.
A tangle of liana gave a discreet wave from behind the traveller, trying to get her attention. Her eyes widened as it held up an unconscious man twined within the climber as if wondering what it should do with him. Emma motioned for it to let him go (carefully!). The plant seemed reluctant but did so anyway, dumping him roughly on the soft moss where the forest spirits immediately congregated, poking and prodding the man curiously.
Emma stifled a groan. What a nightmare. She needed to get everything sorted before awkward questions were asked. Turning her attention back to the traveller, she gestured towards the way he came from.
"You should get out of here. These woods aren't exactly safe."
He seem surprised by her sudden dismissal. "And yet here you are, wandering the woods by yourself and saving roughish strangers."
Emma smiled. "I know this place," she took a step back with the intent of leaving. Not wanting to leave on a bad note, she added, "And I'll try not to let the saving thing become a habit."
"And your clothes?"
His question threw Emma off. "Sorry?"
He gestured up and down her body, eyes straying down before snapping back to her face again and away from her, although the signs of a smirk were apparent.
"Will your minimally dressed state be a habit as well?"
The realisation she was only dressed in her shift dawned on Emma like a waking nightmare. Struggling to keep the horror from her face, she replied with as much confidence as she can, "I guess you'll never find out."
Signalling discreetly with her hand behind her back, she could feel the whisper of the forest as it passed along her instruction. The branches behind the traveller's horse seem to converse amongst themselves, debating the best way to perform the job before one them decided to take it upon itself and slapped the horse with glee (Emma resisted the need to roll her eyes at such juvenile behaviour). With an indignant wicker, the horse effectively took her owner's attention.
With one last glance, Emma quickly slipped away.
(Later, the roots and vines had to restrain her from hitting her head in embarrassment one too many times against the tree.)
Killian knew he was being followed several moments after entering the forest, succinctly pinpointed the five individuals creeping through the underbrush in an endeavour to ambush him at the appropriate moment. He allowed them the safety of his apparent unawareness, knowing he could easily dispatch them should they attack but hoping they would do the right thing. Not for his sake, but for theirs.
He had been on a scouting mission, to immerse himself in the terrain and map the territory on the chance the Gadiens would base their attack in this area in order to claim another piece of land as theirs. The usual call would be to send out a group of his ground soldiers for this errand, but Killian needed to get away from the council meetings and the politics, and he had always been of the mind to experience the field for himself, if he is to be the strategist that is held so highly.
He could tell the moment the bandits choose to attack, his hand tightening on the hilt of the sword hidden under his cloak (to defend, not kill unless the situation warrants it). What he did not expect was for one of the men to be taken down by an apple, even less so when he got the drop out of nowhere. Stunned and even more dazed, he found himself surrounded by golden-spun hair and fiery green eyes.
His mystery attacker had disappeared all too quickly to take care of one of the bandits and any concern he may have had for her safety disappeared when he saw her take him on. What she lacked in skill, she made up in her ferocity and determination. His attention was quickly taken by the other armed men who were clearly not used to retaliation. Killian quickly demonstrated why this whole foray was a bad idea on their part, using the sides of his sword to deflect and hit (and if he was particularly brutal to the one who saw the opportunity to attack the unsuspecting lass while she was preoccupied, no one was the wiser).
Even in the thralls of this relatively unexciting brawl, Killian couldn't help noticing the strange air around this place (and he's not just thinking about the unusual and indecisive mist that keeps drifting in and out), almost as if the forest is humming with life. He could have sworn there was one man who got dragged into the bushes out of the corner of his eyes, but when he turned to have a proper look, there was no trace.
He was amused and intrigued by her – a semi-naked woman who had appeared out of nowhere to assist a stranger. He could tell she was embarrassed by the ordeal, no doubt thinking him some helpless individual who required aid. He wanted to reassure, to comfort, to have her know her help was appreciated (despite obviously not needing it).
There's an air of familiarity that comes and goes, teasing him with nothing but a feeling. There were questions to be asked but he's not sure of what, and a humming in the back of his mind that refused to go away.
All too quickly, she's ready to leave, and he knew - without knowing how or why - the elusive questions would remain unasked. He wanted to know more about her, how she knew the forest. But his horse drew his attention away from her.
And in those few moments that he took his eyes away, she disappeared.
Huge thanks to Julia (shoedonym) for being my beta, for picking up on my shoddy mistakes, for your suggestions, commentaries and kind words. Any mistakes are from my own tampering.
(Also, for any of the Ghibli fans out there, spot the character made famous by Hayao Miyazaki. I couldn't resist borrowing them.)