"It's A Boy"
Note: Cori invites Mother Nature over for tea, and Fergus airs his grievances over his father not having been found. Roy overhears the conversation, and is shocked to learn who the 'bad man' actually is. Also, Fergus disrespects Mother Nature and gets away with it. Brandel, turned highwayman in his desperation, picks a fight with the wrong drifter.
Fun fact: scones are said to have been invented in Scotland in 1513...the same country Alpha was originally from, and the same year Brinna was born! Did you know that? Because I sure didn't! Mind blown! Trigger warning for some violence. And an even bigger trigger warning for a character dealing with the memory of an abusive alcoholic parent. If such things are upsetting to you, please don't read on. Much love! (Edited for a mistake.)
"Chapter 9: Revelations"
Blasted cats. Fergus turned aside to sneeze into the crook of his arm, then sprinkled a handful of flour on the table before turning out his dough and beginning to knead. Not only did these furry hellions make him sneeze, but they were every bit as naughty as his progeny! He had caught Pumpkin trying to steal some bacon at breakfast that morning...well, succeeding was actually more accurate. Walnut, a marbled gray tabby, liked to sharpen her claws on the wooden furniture, and was very sneaky about it. And Apple, who was an ill-tempered tortoiseshell kitten, was just the wild card of the bunch. Would she be friendly and loving, or would she hiss and hide under someone's bed? It was always a coin toss.
Today was a rather important day, and Fergus had some rather strong words for Mother Nature. It was Cori's idea to have tea set out for her when she arrived, and Fergus had already had to shoo kittens away from the table three times.
No, make that four. Fergus felt a tug on the leg of his breeches and he looked down to see Apple clinging to his knee, just above his blue and green striped sock. "No."
"Mew!" Apple defiantly climbed up his leg and tried to get onto the table.
He quickly scooped her off his hip and began to put her down again. Then he paused. "You'll just do that again, won't you?"
The kitten, apparently in 'friendly mode' because there was food involved, purred and licked at a glob of sweet dough on his thumb.
Fergus tried to hold on to his grumpy attitude, but the corners of his mouth turned up a bit before he could stop himself. He relented, transferring the kitten to his shoulder and rinsing his hands in a basin of clean water. "Stay there, you little pest. Anyone would think we didn't feed you...but that round belly of yours gives away the lie, doesn't it?"
"Mew!"
"Well? Is that all you have to say for yourself?"
"Mrrow?"
"Hah!" Fergus shook his head. "You're nothing but trouble, you know that? Nothing. But. Trouble. And let me tell you something, I don't appreciate the hisses and the spits when I want to sit in my favorite chair, and you've decided that your furry behind is entitled to sit there instead. And was it you who left a dead mouse for me to find this morning? Well? Speak up."
The kitten began to give her usual response, but was interrupted by a yawn, giving her meow an upward inflection. "Meyyyyaaaaaaaaaah?"
"I'm boring you." Fergus deadpanned, rolling out the dough. He would have continued his banter with Apple, but Cori's giggle made him jump. He turned to look, and saw his wife standing there with twinkling eyes and a hand covering her mouth. "How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough, husband. I think you've found a kindred spirit!" Cori came over to kiss him and lightly scratched Apple behind the ear. The kitten leaned into it with a loud purr, then seemed to remember herself and lightly swatted Cori's hand away before jumping down and bounding out of the room.
"Piffle," he snorted as he began to cut out the scones. "I'm just trying to keep her occupied so that she doesn't walk in the flour."
"She only did that once."
"Once was enough. Where are the children? Still playing upstairs?"
Cori nodded and seated herself at the table. She knew better than to offer to help him with this. Unable to return to his work as a tanner due to his father's actions, Fergus had needed to find other ways to keep himself occupied. Surprisingly, he excelled at cooking. It could not be said that Fergus actually enjoyed cooking or baking, but being able to do this for her and the children seemed to make him feel a little bit better about their current situation. He had read every recipe he could get his hands on and thrown himself into learning the ins and outs of food preparation, and his efforts had paid off. Although, there were a few 'klunkers' in the beginning, such as the time when he had somehow managed to set porridge on fire...
This wasn't what Fergus wanted, she knew. He wanted to be out in the yard, tanning deer skins and doing whatever it was men did when they were with their peers, but she had never once heard him complain about that. They both knew that this arrangement had been inevitable, and that the husband of the Tooth Fairy always ended up being the parent who stayed in the home with the heir to the Tooth Fairy mantle. No, he hadn't complained about that, because he'd known what he was getting into.
It was Brandel. If he hadn't darkened their doorstep several years before, Fergus wouldn't have had to start as early as he did, and she knew that he felt cheated. Robbed. And, in truth, so did she.
Still...little moments like this were precious, and she knew it. As much as Fergus claimed to hate cats, he had somehow come to the conclusion that if they were keeping one they might as well keep the rest. And it amused her to no end that out of the trio it was prickly little Apple who had decided that Fergus was hers. Brinna had been disappointed by this, but little Walnut adored her, so she hadn't pouted about it. Much.
"They're awfully quiet..." Fergus frowned. "What are they up to?"
"Brinna's playing with Walnut. I gave her some yarn, so they'll be occupied for quite a while. And Roy's practicing his flying." Cori crossed her ankles. It wasn't for modesty, since she wore trousers like all Fairy women, but she sometimes just enjoyed sitting that way. It made her feel ladylike. "He said to me, 'Momma, if I'm gonna be the Tooth Fairy someday, my wings need to be big and strong'. I didn't have the heart to tell him that...well, his wings won't get any bigger."
This wasn't strictly true. His wings would grow as he grew, but their proportions in relation to the rest of his body would be about the same.
Fergus nodded. "I suppose I'll have to have that talk with him. I've put it off, I'll admit. But not today..."
"No...not today."
Mother Nature was warmly received by Cori, but she got a bit of a frosty reception from Fergus. She had no doubt that Jack Frost would have come out with a witty comment about how 'nippy' Fergus was being, but the Sprite wasn't there. She didn't have to ask what this was about; Cori had given her the cliff notes beforehand, and she didn't take Fergus's covertly hostile attitude personally.
She probably should have.
Cori went upstairs with two scones for the children and told them to stay upstairs and behave while they had 'grown-up talk', and Fergus icily pushed the plate towards Mother Nature.
"Scone?" he asked.
"Yes, thank you," Mother Nature graciously accepted one, and helped herself to some clotted cream and strawberry jam as well. She heard Cori coming back down, and she decided that it was best to get this unpleasantness out of the way. She took a bite, praised the quality of his baking, and finally folded her hands on the table when the tea had been poured. "I know why your wife asked me here. And I can see that you're angry. Please, speak freely."
"How freely do I get to speak?" This was directed at both of them.
Cori nudged his leg under the table, a little more sharply than she'd meant to, earning her a reproachful look from her husband.
Mother Nature saw it, and shook her head. "Let him speak, Tooth Fairy. Let him yell if he wants to. I know I've failed you both. I've searched and I've searched..."
"Have you?" Fergus was barely keeping his temper now.
"I have," Mother Nature looked unhappy, but was composed. "Many times, I've been close to finding him. So close. But he's always managed to hide himself before I could pinpoint his location. And I know that I'm at fault, because I granted Fairies the ability to cloak themselves all those thousands of years ago. There's nothing I can do to stop him from doing that."
"Why not? You made the spell, you can undo it."
"I have to follow my own rules. I have no choice. It's magic of my own making, but it binds me as well. I cannot revoke a gift once it's been given, anymore than you can reach into the mirror and shake hands with your own reflection. It's impossible. And unfortunately...the price of free will is that not everyone's will is good."
Fergus scoffed and got up from the table, turned his back on her in a blatant show if disrespect, and gave his wings such a furious buzz that he lifted off the ground for a second. "This is bullshit."
"Fergus!" Cori hissed, then turned to Mother Nature. "I'm sorry."
"There's no need, Tooth Fairy." Mother Nature stood up and walked over to where Fergus stood seething. "Fergus...I haven't sensed him near this place. Not once. Do you think it's possible that your last encounter might have frightened him away and discouraged him from coming back?
"No," Fergus shook his head. "He'd never let go of what he considers to be 'his'. He's biding his time. He has to be."
The nature goddess considered this, and went on, "Would you say your father is a patient man?"
Fergus fixed her with an irritated look. "He's a persistent man." He thought back on the fight, which had ended with him receiving a broken nose. He'd also previously suspected that that was the same night Brinna was conceived, but he wasn't thinking of that. "And we humiliated him that day. He won't forget that."
"That's possible...but I believe he left this place when it happened. If I could be absolutely sure that he did, I can ensure that he won't be able to get back in again. Has there been any news at all? Any sightings, or whisperings?"
"No," Fergus moved away from her and poured himself some water; he didn't like tea very much. "No one's seen him. Not even at 'The Drunken Leprechaun'."
"And nothing has gone missing during the winter, when he wouldn't be able to forage?" Mother Nature asked, folding her hands in front of her as she stood near the wood stove.
Fergus set his cup down so forcefully that he slopped a tiny bit of water onto the table, which he ignored. "How should I know? I don't go knocking from door to door asking people if they're missing a ham or some turnips!"
Cori took a napkin and mopped up the spill. "Fergus...Losing your temper won't help anything."
He sighed and rubbed at his temple with two forefingers. "I don't know. Like any other place, our town has a few thieves. We have crime, we have...a lot of what the humans have, actually. No way to know if it's him or not, unless he's spotted. As far as I know, he hasn't been."
"Hm-hmm..." Mother Nature drifted across the room to look out the front window, her face pensive. "Well...by all accounts, Brandel is incapable of keeping a low profile for very long, and your children are almost ready to begin their schooling. That's an awfully long time for such a man to be silent."
Fergus looked at Cori, who shrugged, before looking back at Mother Nature. "I don't understand."
Mother Nature turned back to them. "I believe he's moved on, Fergus."
"No," Fergus said sharply, "I don't accept that. I let myself think that once, and he almost made off with my boy! He could have done!" He stopped before he could go any further when he saw that the subject was upsetting Cori. He took her hand as she stared down at her untouched scone.
"The amount of magic he's expending to keep himself hidden at all times would be enough to leave anyone exhausted, and he's done it for so long at this point that his health can't be very good. So, it's possible that he simply doesn't have the energy to do more than keep himself alive."
"But we still don't know where he is."
"No...but I know where he isn't. He isn't here." She gestured to include the Town. "I'm sure of it."
"And sure or not, if you're wrong and my father is still here?" Fergus demanded.
Mother Nature had no answer.
Roy, who had been eavesdropping at the top of the stairs and picking dried currants out of his scone so that he could eat it (he didn't like dried currants), froze when he heard what the grown-ups were talking about. So, was that why they were told to stay upstairs? So that they wouldn't hear that the 'bad man' was actually their very own grandfather? Was that why his father was always as stern as he was?
But how could a grandfather be bad? His grandmother had been good, and everyone was very sad when she 'went away'. Roy hadn't really understood what was happening at the time, other than the fact that she couldn't come back, and that Momma had cried a lot. He still missed Gran. He simply couldn't imagine how it could be that his grandfather was the 'bad man' they were told to watch out for!
He thought about telling Brinna, but decided not to. That cold, hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach didn't feel nice, and he didn't want her to feel bad too. He pocketed the picked-out currants, which he promptly forgot about, and went to look for Pumpkin.
Roy found Pumpkin sunning herself on the floor by his bedroom window, and he offered her a piece of the 'de-curranted' scone. Pumpkin sniffed at the morsel, accepted it, then spat it back out. Roy shrugged and ate it, then picked her up and went to lay on his bed.
The kitten looked away as if deciding whether or not she wanted back down, but the sunlight also shone on the bed, and she could sense that something was out of the ordinary with her little master. Pumpkin sniffed at Roy's face, then began to lick his forehead with her raspy pink tongue.
Roy cracked a little smile in spite of himself, and petted his cat. "Pumpkin, do you think my Daddy acts weird all the time 'cause he's scared? Do grown-ups even get scared, ya think?"
Pumpkin only rubbed her face against his and purred.
Whether she was trying to comfort him or only seeking attention, he was comforted all the same. He giggled. "I know, I love you too."
Brinna came into his room, where she knew she wasn't supposed to be, but he didn't notice. He was too busy trying to distract himself from what he had just overheard, and the sunlight was nice and warm. It was probably the last warm day they would have that year, if Anwell's old bones were anything to go by. And the warmth was making him sleepy.
Brinna frowned. It was very telling that he hadn't told her to 'go away' or 'get out of his room'. "You're s'posed to tell me to get out of your room. Then I say 'make me', and..."
Roy sighed and turned over.
Brinna went around to the other side of the bed to look him in the eye, but he closed his eyes and seemed to be pretending she wasn't there. Well, that wouldn't do! "Hey." She lightly jiggled his arm and leaned in to get in his face. "Hey. I'm talking to you."
Roy's eyes snapped open, and he suddenly reared his head back, startling Pumpkin and sending her scurrying backwards to crouch at the foot of the bed. "Yeaugh! You've been eating onions!"
Brinna intentionally breathed in his face, then chased him out of the room when he fled. Both were giggling by the time they reached the bottom of the stairs, and that was about when they remembered that they were supposed to stay in their rooms. They stopped short when they saw Mother Nature, and Roy nervously clenched his hands behind his back. He had always been in awe of Mother Nature! "He-he-hello, Mother Nature."
Mother Nature beamed at the two little intruders and knelt down to greet them. "Hello, children. You've grown!"
"Uh-huh!" Brinna dimpled prettily. "But we forgot, we were supposed to stay upstairs."
Fergus was angry, but not at them. He wasn't even angry at Mother Nature. Not really. He liberally slathered a scone with jam and observed the interaction without a word and with little interest.
"Oh?" Mother Nature was amused. "And what made you forget, little one?"
Mother Nature had asked Brinna, but it was Roy who answered. "Brinna's stinky breath!"
He had no idea why the adults all began to laugh. Even Fergus chuckled in spite of himself.
Brinna put her fists on her hips. "Well, at least I don't pick my nose!"
The grown-ups laughed louder at that, and Roy's face turned the color of a tomato. First he finds out that the man they were warned about was actually related to him, and now his family was laughing at him! Mother Nature was laughing! He clenched his little hands into fists as anger battled with hurt, and hurt won out. "I don't do that! I'm going back upstairs." And he did, stomping all the way.
"Oh!" Cori tried to stifle her giggles. "Darling, come back down, we're sorry!"
Slam!
Mother Nature shook her head. "Ohhh, my. I think we hurt his feelings. Poor boy."
Brinna trotted up the stairs and knocked on her brother's door, but she received no answer. Instead, all she heard was subdued sniffling and Pumpkin's concerned meows. "Roy, I'm sorry I said that. That was mean."
"It's not that. They laughed at me."
Brinna heard another quiet sniffle, and she just let herself right on into his room, closing the door behind her. He sat on his bed with his back to her, and she saw his shoulders shake as he held it in. "Oh, don't cry..."
"I'm not cryin'. I don't cry!"
She fluttered over and settled down beside him, trying to put her arm around his shoulders, but he squirmed away from her and wiped furiously at his eyes. "You can say something mean about me, if you want." she offered.
"I don't wanna say something mean about anyone, I just d-don't...I don't like being laughed at!" His shoulders heaved twice, and he covered his face with his hands.
Brinna tried again, and this time he let her hug him. "Hey, Roy, guess what?"
"What?"
"You can't smell my stinky breath with a stuffed-up nose!"
And just like that, his tears turned to giggles and he hugged back. "I don't pick my nose, though."
"You did it this morning. I saw you do it."
"I had an itch on the inside!" He roughly pulled away, but his blue mood was leaving and he was smiling again.
"Suuure..."
They were friends again. Cori, who had followed her daughter not long after, had heard this exchange and wondered if she should interrupt. Finally, hearing giggles, she knocked softly. "Roy, it's Momma. Can I come in?"
Roy stopped giggling, unsure if he even wanted her to. "Uh-huh..."
Their mother came into the room and knelt down in front of the bed, which they were still sitting on. She took her son's hands in her own and looked him in the eye. "Roy, we're very sorry for laughing at you. We didn't mean to hurt your feelings."
The boy felt an odd mixture of residual hurt and love for his mother, and instead of giving a verbal answer he just hugged her.
"Do you want to come back down? You're allowed now, we're all done talking."
He shook his head. "I wanna play with Pumpkin for a while."
"All right." Cori brushed one of his curls out of his face. He would need another haircut soon. "Come down when you're ready, then."
Less than three miles away from the Fairy Town, a lone traveler made his way through the countryside with no particular destination in mind. Tall he was, with unruly black hair gathered at the nape of his neck with a thin strip of rawhide. He carried all of his worldly belongings on his back, and his clothes, while once splendid, had gone ragged from overuse and time on the road. Anyone would have taken this man for a pauper, or a servant who had stolen his master's clothes, but he walked with an easy relaxed stride as if he owned the road itself and the land surrounding it. Confident. That was a good word for him.
It was the man's face that really drew Brandel's attention. The man appeared human, which didn't mean much when Sprites could cover their pointed ears with their hair if it was long enough, and Fairies could hide their wings with a glamour. Or, in Brandel's case, their full selves. But this man's face...
It was a human-esque face, that couldn't be denied. But something about the angular quality of it hinted at something feral. His beard was scruffy, indicating that he had been traveling for quite a while without access to grooming supplies, so it was difficult to make this feature out, but at some point in his life a 'Glasgow grin' had been sliced into his right cheek. The scar was a pink slash through the black forest of his beard. And those dark eyes of his watched. There was something decidedly inhuman about him, but that difference was so inscrutable that many humans wouldn't even notice.
But Brandel noticed. And he also noticed that, even though this man was dressed like a pauper, the purse at his belt was full. I can eat tonight...I can just wait for him to let his guard down long enough so's I can knock him out and take his gold...It'll be dark soon...I'll need to find a place to sleep, and I want a good meal and some ale to wash it down.
The man's pace slowed, and his nostrils gave a subtle flare as the wind shifted. He did not halt, but now his eyes scanned for anything out of the ordinary.
He smells me? No...that's impossible.
Brandel quietly followed after him, matching his stride so that he wouldn't be heard.
The man pivoted on the balls of his feet and faced what looked to be open air. "I know you're there. If you think that just because I can't see you, that means I can't find you, you're mistaken. Show yourself to me, Fairy, that we might meet as equals."
Well, this was unexpected! But Brandel could not comply. "Well, y'see, that's not really possible. Someone's after me, and I don't want them to sense me."
The man didn't relax, but he no longer appeared to be quite so hostile. "Why are they after you?"
"Misunderstanding," Brandel lied, "My inlaws are preventing my son from letting me see my grandson. Things got out of hand, their lies were believed over what I had to say, and here I am."
"I see."
"What's your name, good stranger?" Brandel asked pleasantly. He was beginning to close the distance between them, and the stranger stood his ground.
"What's yours?"
Brandel had to laugh at this man's bluntness. "I asked you first. And what are you doing so far in this direction?"
The man adjusted his pack. "Passing through. I'll not trouble you and yours. So long as you leave me in peace."
"Not very trusting, are you?"
"No."
Brandel was amused by this! "Then why are you still standing before me? Why not run?"
The man glanced at the sky for a brief moment as if waiting for something, and answered the question. "Not such a fool, that's why. You can fly, and I cannot. And I can't see you. By facing your voice, I have some idea of where an attack might come from. I was suspicious at first, and now I'm sure of it; you mean to rob me. And I will not let you, sirrah."
"Rob you? No, of course not!" Brandel pulled a small steel blade from its scabbard even as he denied it. It made no sound that he could hear, but the man seemed to hear it all the same. "I only want to talk. It's been so long since I've had a decent conversation."
"Legends state that the Fae are notorious liars. One should never give their full name to a Fairy."
"Oh, myths and legends abound, but so many are in conflict. Who knows what the truth really is?" Brandel was less than fifteen feet away now.
"I know something else."
The sun had only just dipped below the horizon, and the moon, which was full, peeped out from behind a cloud.
The man stifled a groan and dropped his pack.
Brandel took an involuntary step back as the man covered his face and began to writhe.
Groans turned into screams, which turned into roars. His feet, which were bare, lengthened, and he seemed to almost fall forward as his balance shifted him from walking flat-footed to balancing on the balls of his feet. No...not feet. Paws. A six-foot-seven human-looking man quickly became a hulking eight-foot-tall beast. His arms, which were now a bit longer in proportion to the rest of his body than they had been before, lowered to reveal a lupine muzzle and piercing golden eyes. A bushy tail waved slowly behind him, and his large triangular ears oriented on Brandel. When he spoke, his voice was significantly deeper than it had been before, but was still unmistakably the voice of the same person. "I know how to wait."
"One of the Cursed Ones!" The Fairy lunged, bringing his knife up in an underhand stab, aiming for the Werewolf's heart.
The Werewolf caught his wrist as easily as if he could see it coming. "I know that the legends say that Fairies just love to talk about themselves. I needed you to talk until the moon came, that I might have fighting chance against one with magic. But I'll give you what you weren't willing to give me."
The Werewolf squeezed, and Brandel had no choice but to drop the knife as the bones in his wrist ground against each other. He screamed, and the knife was confiscated.
"I give you mercy. I'll just keep this, though. I could use a new toothpick. Go back to your home, and leave me alone. Do you hear me?"
"Yes! Please!" Brandel screamed and clawed at his wrist with his free hand.
As soon as the Werewolf released him and resumed his stroll down the path, Brandel reached into his pocket. Most Fairy men carried a silver coin, and Brandel was no different. He was confident that he could get his revenge and fly off before he was caught, and the Werewolf would no longer have cause to be so smug!
Or would he?
The pointed ears tilted back to listen as Brandel removed the coin from his pocket and charged. It was a very short distance, less than fifteen feet, and if Brandel wasn't blind with rage at having been made a fool of, he wouldn't have tried it. The Werewolf turned so quickly that Brandel could hardly follow the movement, and casually backhanded him away. The silver coin bounced in the dirt, never even making contact.
"A coward, and a fool to boot."
The air around Brandel shimmered as if with heat distortion, and he slowly became visible. The blow had winded Brandel badly, even if it hadn't hurt very much, and he lost his concentration and allowed the glamour to slip. The Werewolf could not know this, but he now looked many centuries older than he really was. His magic had constantly been used, day and night, and the years had taken their toll. He got slowly to his feet, and his rage spiked when he saw that his 'attacker' was just...standing there. "What does a Werewolf who can easily hunt down his meals need with gold? Please...don't hurt me! I'm an old man...I just..."
That was as far as he got before he was pinned against a tree with a muzzle full of bared teeth less than an inch away from his face.
"I try to respect my elders, but in your case I'll make an exception. 'Old man'...Yes, an old man who would attack a stranger on the road...An old man who would have no cause to make himself invisible if he'd done nothing wrong...An old man who probably intended to kidnap his own grandson because he was told 'no'. Why would they tell you 'no', 'old man', hm? What did you do to your son, that he would hate and fear you so? An old man you might be...but I'm an old hand at sniffing out a coward. And that's what you are. A dangerous old coward, who's just come this close to throwing his life away. I'll give you one more chance. Stop attacking me the second my back is turned...and leave. Me. Alone."
The Werewolf roughly let him go and backed off several paces, and Brandel bared his yellow, cracked teeth. His hands curled into fists, which began to glow so brightly that the Werewolf was forced to shield his eyes. "All I wanted was the gold, dog!"
A red orb the size of an apple streaked across the short distance and struck the Werewolf in the chest. There was the stench of singed fur, but all he did was snort. "Was that supposed to hurt?"
Where is my magic? Brandel desperately tried to launch another orb, but nothing happened, and what little magic he had left was trapped within his wings, keeping him alive. But not for long. He felt his energy draining away as if he were a tapped keg, and someone had just turned the spigot. He tried to flap his wings to rise up into the air, but they wouldn't move.
"What's wrong with you?"
"No..."
Now the Werewolf cocked his head. "You're...You're actually dying, aren't you?"
"No, I can't die...Mother Nature, don't let me die..."
"There's no one else here." The Werewolf sighed, and his ears drooped. "You poor fool. I would have let you go. I would have..."
The end happened so quickly that Brandel never even had time to scream. His red wings gave a dim flash, and he fell to the ground and didn't move. Alexander debated whether or not he should bury him. Or did Fairies use funeral pyres? What was the respectful (or, at least, decent) thing to do? This man had surely been filled with evil, but in the end, he had simply been desperate. I could have spared a few coins...
Then his hackles raised. He sensed the approach of a being of great power, and he wouldn't be able to change back into his human form until the sun came up again. And here he was, standing over the body of a dead Fairy, whom he had personally backhanded and threatened. This did not look good!
Before he could leave, a beautiful woman with dark skin and a golden headdress appeared from seemingly out of nowhere. One moment she wasn't there, and then she was. And she was looking down at the dead man with a mixture of sorrow and disappointment. When she turned her gaze to the Werewolf she showed no fear, even as he towered over her. And why should she have? A goddess had little to fear from a Werewolf. "I expected better from my children..."
Alexander dropped to one knee and respectfully lowered his head. "Your pardon, Milady, but he accosted me when I was in human form. I thought he was stronger than he was, and I never meant to..."
"I was talking about him." Mother Nature smiled sadly. "He tried to kidnap his grandson when the boy was just an infant, and he's hidden himself from me ever since. I've been looking for him for a long time. It's...very sad and unfortunate that the two of you met. Now one of you is dead, essentially escaping my justice, and the other...what to do with you?"
There was a pregnant pause while the Werewolf waited for her to pass whatever sentence she deemed fitting, and he considered making a run for it or arguing, but there really wasn't any point. She would find him, no matter where he went.
"Well...Where would you like to go?"
He blinked, then cocked his head in confusion. "Huh?"
"You can't stay here. The Fairies call your kind 'The Cursed Ones'. If they discover traces of you, that could put you in conflict with each other. And there's been enough of that, I think."
"I...don't understand, Milady. You aren't going to kill me for this?"
"It's 'Mother Nature', if you don't mind." She gave a slight smile. "And no, I'm not. Death is part of the natural order of things. And he did die of natural causes, brought on by the extreme overuse of magic. Normally it would regenerate, but he's taxed himself so much by staying hidden all the time, that he simply..." Mother Nature shook her head, looking sad again. "I believe your story, because I could sense him when he became visible again. I sensed his intentions towards you. And I sensed that you gave him every opportunity to break off his attack. So, please, stand up and tell me where you would like to go."
Alexander got to his feet and tried in vain to straighten his clothing, but much of it had ripped. He internally thanked any deity who might be listening that his trousers had remained on his frame! "I heard rumors that I could find more of my kind in Scotland. I'd like to try my luck there."
She nodded. "So be it. Get your pack, and I will take you there." And then I have business to attend to. Given their history, I don't know how Fergus will take this news...
The next day, after Mother Nature had departed, Fergus excused himself from the house. His children were bursting with questions, and his wife was solicitous and loving as she always was, but he simply couldn't deal with people at the moment. He went out to the wood pile, which was a good distance away and out of sight from the house, and began splitting logs into kindling for their wood stove. Fairies only harvested wood from naturally fallen trees, but there was no shortage of those, not when there was an immense forest nearby. By the end of that day, he would have enough kindling to last them through the next six months, and he wouldn't be able to lift his right arm above shoulder level for a week.
It was over. It was really over. And he didn't feel at all like he thought he would feel. There was relief...of course there was. They no longer had to keep their children confined to the yard, and as Roy and Brinna got older they wouldn't be able to. School was mandatory, and Miss Auralia did not make house calls unless a student was really struggling with a subject. Roy and Brinna would have to go to her, and not having to worry about their grandfather stealing them away was a relief.
The resentment was expected, too. In a way, Brandel had won. He had escaped Mother Nature's justice, and he had died a relatively painless, natural death. Mother Nature's mention of a Werewolf in the area was extremely concerning, but after hearing about the nature of that interaction and learning that she had spirited him away to another land where he couldn't threaten them even if he was inclined to do so, Fergus had no doubt that the stranger was no real danger to anyone, and that Brandel had provoked him.
What Fergus didn't expect was for it to hurt. That man had terrorized him, both in childhood and manhood. He had threatened his family. But early on, before Brandel had let the drink take over completely, there had been good times. Not many, but a few. Fergus remembered Brandel showing him how to make a whistle using only his thumbs and the cap of an acorn. He remembered Brandel staying up with him when he'd had the Flux as a very small child, and how he had wiped the vomit from his chin and told him 'better out than in'. He remembered a hug.
He could only remember one hug.
Why couldn't his father keep loving him? What had he done?
Fergus chopped in a fury, breathing hard as sweat dripped from his brow, and for a moment he thought some of it had run into his eyes. Then his breath hitched, and his heart clenched. He missed the block, and the axe buried itself into the dirt.
Why does it hurt so much?
He kicked the log off the chopping block. For the first time since he was a very small child, Fergus sat down and cried.