Eire of Hostility

  Chapter 3

  With a heavy stone-head spear in hand, Macklin silently made his way through the pale woods and tall grasses of the Forlorn Mists. His huge pet and companion, Mix, followed casually but quietly behind; surprising for a bear of his size.

  Beasts had lately encroached upon Macklin's nearby holdings; something dangerous had driven them from their claimed territories.

  First came the pack of gulon; the voracious wolf/cougar hybrid creatures managed to eat part of his porch before he and Mix dispatched them. Next was the swarm of flitters; luckily, the tiny humanoid vermin only did minor damage to his fruit trees before he burnt them out.

  Lastly, and unexpectedly, was a leucrotta that came to feed on Macklin's cattle. Those clever monsters were normally aloof and stayed clear of held lands. Being the size of an elk, with a lion's limbs and a badger's head, the fiendish beast put up a fierce fight before it fell.

  Macklin decided that a defensive posture wasn't in his best interest; he was a hunter, and was used to action rather than reaction. He'd hunted the Forlorn many times, and knew that the wilder and more dangerous denizens dwelled deeper into the heart of that vast landscape. He enjoyed the challenge of testing himself against such dangers, and welcomed those opportunities when out hunting simple game.

  That thrill of facing danger was how he acquired Mix. Back when Macklin first took holdings and began to shape the land, he was prowling the low, snowy mountains on the far side of his new property. An enormous fog bear, Mix's mother, charged from her cave in violent defense of her cub. Macklin was victorious, but nearly bled to banishment from the battle.

  Mix was raised as a human might treat a lap dog; other than being territorial, he was merry and docile. The huge, shaggy, omnivorous pet only came along on hunts to guard his master and partake of anything edible.

  Cliodhna, Macklin's mater, didn't approve of her son's choice of pets, which fell in line with how she viewed most of his choices. She simply didn't understand her only offspring. She always compared her son's nature to that of a sprite, his sense of honor to a troll's, and his aptitude for hunting to a savage morpher. Merrit Charm-monger, Macklin's sire, was more accepting, and encouraged his son's practice of ranged weapons, carving, and wanderlust.

  Macklin partook of the normal festivities when he returned to visit his parents in the tiny hamlet of Aisling-maith, but preferred only small gatherings or his own company. Like other Fair fae, he enjoyed adventure and music, but not the wild revelry that his race was known for. Macklin eventually shrugged off his mater's moments of discontent and went where his passions led, comfortable with his own manner of existence.

  As Macklin made his way through the gloomy woods and grasslands of the Forlorn, he found no signs or tracks other than small game. By the spread of their fresh imprints into the soft ground, though, they were moving with haste. However, there was no indication of a normal predator on the prowl; whatever had driven beasts onto his holdings was still in the vicinity.

  Macklin was aware that his dark hair and clothes would draw the eye of creatures with intellect, and so willed his appearance to blend. He soon was only shades darker than the surrounding thick vapors and pale flora. Having the limited chameleon abilities of any fog bear, Mix followed suit and turned his brown coat to a faded gray. The huge pet casually sniffed the still air while he chewed on sweet leaves, and gave no indication of imminent danger.

  There was a sudden sense of shift in the ether; Macklin knew glamour was in play somewhere nearby. While Mix paused to dig at a honey root, he moved slowly and silently forward through a small patch of woods in the hushed setting. His spear was held at the ready, tense with anticipation. In the clearing ahead of him, there was a shimmer in the mist, and then a Verden-style white door came into being.

  Macklin crouched low, shielded from view by thin trees and tall, bland grass. A few moments passed before the door opened part-way, hindered by a thick sward in front of it. A slight figure wavered at the doorway, but ducked and screamed when a wisp flew out from behind it. Not 'it', but 'her'; the voice was definitely female.

  The pink wisp shot out and up and spun in a curling, chaotic dance, soon joined by another, yellow, faeling from the denser woods ahead and to his left. Entrancing the female with their 'calls of the heart' glamouring, she stepped out into the Forlorn Mists to follow.

  When Macklin saw her, his curiosity and confusion was suddenly replaced with mute delight. The young woman, obviously human, was captivating. Her slender yet curvaceous shape was evident, even under blue denim jeans and brown sweatshirt with a gold harp on the front. Her features were akin to a pixie's alluring beauty, but at normal scale. Silky, ponytailed copper hair bobbed and swung with innocent mischief, and an enchantment-borne smile seemingly lit the gloomy landscape.

  Macklin watched as the young woman's trepidation gave way to the beguiling call of the wisps, and she jogged into the woods in joyous pursuit. He only glanced at the door when it began to fade from existence.

  Even after the human female was lost from sight, Macklin stayed in in his concealed pose while he tried to organize the numerous questions that came to mind. Who was she? Where was her liege fae? Why was she brought to the Forlorn? How was she expected to survive on her own in the Lore? Or was it that she wasn't expected to? Most importantly, what should he do about it?

  Macklin didn't want to trifle with the game of another fae, especially if they happened to be an elder with vindictive tendencies. Then again, he considered it malicious to abandon the attractive woman in the Lore, and even worse in the Forlorn Mists. After short deliberation, he decided to take his chances of possible intrusion. His honor, and the breath-catching effect she had on him, wouldn't allow any less.

  Just as he stood and prepared to follow after the enchanting woman, her gasps and sobs of terror were heard coming from the trees. She ran back into the clearing near her point of origin and stumbled to a shaky stop, bending over as she tried to catch her breath.

  Macklin scanned her hectic thoughts in hopes of familiarization, to put her at ease when he would speak to her. He only caught fragments of information from her fear-addled mind. Her name was learned, and a vague collection of family whom she wished would come to her aid. Someone by the name of Gideon was momentarily among her jumbled thoughts, and then was gone. There were also a chaotic concept about doors; needing to make another, and two doors in one room. He wasn't sure if she meant portals, but it seemed a safe assumption.

  Beyond what he could glean, Macklin felt her fear and confusion. It made his heart ache to see such a lovely, helpless creature in that state, and he yearned to comfort and protect her.

  Still aware that there was possible danger in the area, Macklin nonetheless allowed his natural hues to slowly return. He didn't want to cause even more fright to the young woman when he greeted her. He stepped out from the trees and moved away from the drooping branches so that he could be seen from that distance through the mist.

  Standing tall yet casually, Macklin waited until she appeared to be in control of herself, and then called to her in a normal tone, knowing his words would carry in the still air and silence.