Page 8 of Winter's Bite


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  It was high afternoon again when Idrys spotted the snow-white buck. This deer was smaller by at least half than their prize of the night before with only two points on his antlers.

  Idrys motioned silently to his brother and crouched at the edge of the clearing. The buck was pulling the fresh growth from the low brush here and apparently oblivious to the presence of the twins.

  “Oh no,” Emyr whispered. “We’ve got only one bow between us, Idrys. We’re going home.”

  “Look at his coloring. He’s small, but with a coat like that! We’ll be better received if we bring such a gem.” Idrys’s eyes filled with stubborn fire as he glanced at his brother.

  “I can’t believe I’m even listening to you.” Emyr carefully strung his bow even as he shook his head.

  “You won’t regret it,” Idrys promised.

  “If we had a deer for every time I’ve heard that, we could feed the entire cantref,” Emyr muttered. His reluctance faded as the joy of the hunt took over. He crept closer and took aim.

  Something warned the deer. It raised its delicate head and bounded away into the trees. Drawing his knife, Idrys gave chase.

  Cursing, Emyr followed after his twin. They dashed through the woods after the white shadow of the hart. Idrys curved off to the right, aiming to cut the deer off from that side. Emyr took the left, running headlong through the trees. They leapt a small rushing brook and dashed between the leaning boles of the mighty oak and slender popular and ash.

  The deer stopped abruptly and stood quietly shaking in a clearing near a second, wider brook. The boys slowed and circled the edge, Emyr taking aim. Just when he would have loosed the arrow, the buck sprang away again, disappearing into the underbrush near the stream.

  The boys dashed after it again. They broke through the underbrush and saw no sign of their quarry. Idrys checked along the banks for hoofprints or a sign the buck had crossed. There was nothing.

  “Deer don’t just vanish,” he muttered after some minutes of frustrated searching.

  “That one did. Did you see his hocks? Red as blood they were.” Emyr shivered despite the warm summer light.

  “Fairy stories again? I’ve never seen one of the fair folk, have you?” Idrys said and made a face.

  “Stories eh? Then where did your deer go?” Emyr’s mouth set in its own stubborn line, his expression mirroring his brother’s.

  Idrys balled up his left fist and advanced toward his brother in mocking threat. He paused suddenly and looked around. Emyr was about to ask what it was when he too heard the sound.

  Singing. It was a woman’s voice, lovely and pure. They couldn’t quite catch the words but the tune was both merry and haunting as it rang through the wood. The notes came from upstream and Idrys moved toward them.

  For once Emyr didn’t argue with him and followed his brother wordlessly. They moved quietly through the forest along the stream until they came to where it pooled in a deep stone basin. A rushing waterfall spilled over the stones into the lovely glade, its bubbling joy a sweet counterpoint to the haunting beauty of the song. The boys crouched low in the brush, frozen by what they saw.

  A woman bathed in the water, naked to her waist. Her hair was red as fresh blood and her skin even in sunlight glowed as pale as white stone. Her face had high cheekbones and full red lips. Her eyes were silvered, the pupils dark pools within swirling depths. Her breasts were full with high pale nipples peeking out between the long silken strands of red hair.

  Transfixed, the twins stared their full. Here was one of the fair folk, they were sure. She could not be anything but Other. Their mother was widely considered a fine beauty, but next to this woman, Hafwyn’s tanned skin and dark features would be as impressive as a candle lit in daylight.

  The Lady ceased her singing and the clouds cleared from the mind of the two boys. Emyr tugged his brother’s sleeve and motioned with his head that they should leave. Idrys shook his own head and refused to look away from the lovely creature.

  “You don’t have to hide, children. Come, speak with me a while.” The Lady’s voice rang out in a welcoming caress.

  Idrys stood immediately, giving Emyr no choice but to follow suit.

  “We greet you, Lady, though we did not mean to disturb you,” Emyr said formally, bowing.

  Idrys bowed alongside his brother, grateful that at least one of them was capable of polite speech in this moment.

  “I am not disturbed, as yet, young prince.” She walked from the pool toward them.

  “We are no princes, Lady,” Emyr responded, flushing as the water grew shallow and her body was revealed. Every inch was as pale as the rest, save a nest of dark red curls between her slender thighs.

  “Are you not the sons of Brychan, Chief of Llynwg? Perhaps I was mistaken and rude boys have instead come upon me?” Her words held a bite though her smile did not as she tilted her head to one side.

  “We are, I mean, there is no mistake. I am Idrys, my brother is Emyr, Lady.” Idrys found his tongue.

  “Come then, sit with me a while and comb my hair.” She turned and walked along to the bank to where a pale blue coat and matching shift lay warming across the rocks. She dressed, wringing the water from the ends of her waist-length locks. Then she picked up a carved bone comb and held it out to the boys.

  “As it please you Lady, we meant no harm. We were hunting deer and came upon you by accident,” Emyr said as they both walked to her.

  The Fair Folk could be dangerous. Tales ran of them abducting youths to attend them for centuries in their halls or of the Folk playing cruel tricks on foolish mortals. There were tales also, however, of fairy maids who would take a mortal lover for a time. Emyr nervously remembered the former tales; Idrys excitedly recalled the latter.

  “My name is Seren, princes. Attend me and we shall speak of how you may repay your rudeness. I believe it was only an accident, do not fear.” Her smile was open and so bright it hurt to think of anything else.

  The twins dropped their packs and came to sit beside her where she indicated. Idrys sat up behind Seren, perching on a stone where he could pull the carved comb through her hair. She smelled of honey and tilled earth fresh after a rain.

  She asked them questions then, about their family and their lives, listening to their stuttering replies with a tinge of amusement. Emyr did most of the talking, Idrys fascinated by the softness and beauty of the Fairy’s hair as it poured over his hands like blood stroke after stroke.

  The shadows deepened and grew long. Emyr raised his head and looked about them.

  “I beg your leave, Seren,” he said, for she’d insisted they call her by name. “But we’re going to be sorely missed if we don’t start home. We’ve already been gone a day too many.”

  “Nonsense, my princes, it is near dark. You cannot travel in these woods by night; it would be most dangerous. Stay with me and we shall speak of this come sunrise.” She motioned and a small hut appeared on the other side of the pool where they were certain none had been before.

  Rising, she walked around the water to the door. Idrys looked at his brother and shrugged. Neither wanted to anger the Fairy, so they followed.

  The inside of the hut was far larger than its exterior suggested. Woolen tapestries in bright colors hung on the walls. They told the tale of a hunt, with a large red and white boar the centerpiece of each panel as it ran before a flood of hounds. The hunters depicted were all of the Folk, tall and graceful even in stitching.

  A wide platform covered in the fur of many creatures was arranged against the back wall while a lush spill of sewn pillows and sheepskins surrounded a bronze firepit in the middle. Over the pit hung a large pot from which delicious smells emanated. The princes, having not eaten since their meager breakfast, salivated at the sight of the bubbling stew.

  Seren laughed. “Sit, my guests, and make yourselves comfortable.” She picked up two copper bowls from a smooth wooden shelf near the door and dished u
p the soup.

  The twins hesitated for a moment, the stories once again clouding their minds. Was it safe to eat the food the Fairy offered? Both decided with a shared look that angering Seren by refusing her hospitality would be far more dangerous and gave in to their empty bellies’ demands.

  It was venison stew, full of fresh summer roots and herbs as well as tender savory meat. The twins ate their fill, marveling how the pot never seemed to empty despite the second and then third helpings. Seren reclined on the pillows, watching.

  “I fear we’ve been rude, Seren,” Emyr said when he finally noticed she touched nothing of the meal herself.

  “I do not gain my strength from mortal fodder,” Seren answered his unspoken question. “You are my guests. It is proper you should not hunger.”

  “Thank you,” Idrys said, nudging his brother.

  Emyr’s face remained clouded with thought, however. Not from food, but from what? Where are we really? Oh, Idrys, what have we stumbled into now? Emyr shivered again, though he tried to hide his fear and returned to eating. Seren missed the tremor and the dark look.

  Idrys did not and watched his brother out of the corner of his eye, suddenly worried himself. Emyr always thought things through and he listened better than Idrys had ever been able to as well. Emyr noticed things and his instincts were usually good, though often Idrys paid them no heed in favor of action.

  Seren rose and picked up a small bone jar from her shelf. She knelt then beside Idrys and opened the lid. The jar held an unguent of some sort, its pungent herbal smell not unpleasant, though strong.

  “You two would be as alike as raindrops if not for this bruising,” she murmured. Idrys held still as she gently rubbed some of the ointment into his bruises and wounds. He braced himself for pain, pain that never manifested.

  Her touch was warm and gentle, the pungent ointment seemed to coat his aches and they began to fade immediately. He heard Emyr gasp as Seren rose and stepped away.

  “Still pretty?” Idrys said, trying to make a joke to wipe the astonishment off his brother’s face.

  “Feel your face, Idrys,” Emyr said softly.

  Idrys raised a hand to his face, touching his chin. Where there had been dark scabbing there was nothing now but slightly slippery unblemished skin. He felt above his eye then and his neck. The bruise was gone, as far as he could tell, and the oozing weal as well.

  “Thank you, Lady,” he said in wonder to Seren. He too felt a chill now, for the Folk were not generally known to give a gift without a leash attached. He looked back to his brother and saw that same fear in his dark eyes.

  Seren walked to the bed and sat gracefully at its edge. She beckoned to the young men. “Come, princes, let me show you how I am nourished. Let me sate your curiosity while you may perhaps sate me.” Her voice purred, the tones of her earlier song reflected in the inflection of her words. Her silver eyes smiled at them, heavy lids and long lashes lowering seductively.

  The twins glanced at each other once more and silent thoughts flew between them in that gaze. Apprehensive, but also excited, they rose together, each feeling flushed and confused at the tumult of emotions. Then Seren’s slender arms opened to welcome them to her bed, and there was no more thinking.