Escape From The Green

by Gadziala, Jessica

  And then they bickered for the remaining forty minutes of the train ride. Then the walk back to the woods, a constant noise that was at times amusing, at others irritating.

  "I would tell you it gets better," Drake said, falling into step with me. "But they don't really give it a rest."

  "Keeps my mind from wandering too much," I admitted.

  "You're worried?"

  "Yes," I admitted without hesitation.

  "I'll be right there with you, Amy."

  "I know," I agreed, taking a steadying breath.

  "But it doesn't make it any easier," he guessed.

  "Sorry."

  "Don't be sorry. This is my family, they are my people. I have dreamed of seeing them again for longer than I even remember. But that doesn't make going home any easier. I get it. I don't think there is any way to truly prepare for this. But we will have each other's backs. It should help... ease the transition."

  "Here we are," Sal's voice called, making me suddenly aware of the pull, like the very air was drawing me forward, reaching out to me, pulling me toward the trees.

  Everything was about to change.

  I was going to go live with a tribe of dragons.

  Whether I was ready for that or not.

  Drake's hand closed over mine.

  And we walked through the veil.

  EIGHT

  Drake

  She was nervous.

  And why shouldn't she be?

  I was.

  And these were my kin, this would be my land, my ways, my customs.

  Even if things had changed over the decades, it wouldn't have changed so much that it wouldn't be recognizable.

  It wouldn't be a huge adjustment for me.

  There would be long hours of work. My kind had always worked as a community. If someone's roof collapsed, every able-bodied man or woman would be there helping repair it. If you needed help wrangling your children, preparing food for winter, carrying your things to the river for washing, there was always someone to help.

  I was used to work.

  Harder work.

  At the Winters compound.

  It would be relaxing, even.

  Then there were things we were meant to do as a group. Foraging. Tilling. Planting. Tending. Harvesting.

  Everyone benefited, taking home a portion of the food to their family even if you had your own gardens to eat from.

  The community aspect would likely be the hardest thing for me to adjust to, having been alone for so long. Even on this journey with Amy, Sal, and Smoky, we mostly kept somewhat to ourselves, no one needing to talk incessantly.

  It wouldn't be like that back in my land. Talking, telling stories, that was all part of our tradition.

  They'd want my story.

  The thought made my stomach lurch.

  How could I tell them?

  Of the pain that at times overtook my entire body, that became so normal to me that I barely felt minor injuries anymore, so used to the feeling of worse ones.

  How could I tell them about the taunts? The beatings? The way I was used to being spat on, humiliated, treated as a lesser being?

  They wouldn't be able to relate, so secluded in their little world where no one knew they existed, so no one could do them any harm.

  It would pass over, I reminded myself. Like a storm always does. They would stop asking, stop demanding details.

  I could be normal again.

  My adjustment would be more about showing these people who knew me as one man that I was a new one.

  But Amy's adjustment would be more full.

  She'd been so sheltered. And while she had never been spoiled per se, she had been pampered in her lovely house with servants and full coffers that she didn't need to contribute to.

  She would be expected to work. To till land and harvest. To help the community. To make her own food.

  It wasn't a lifestyle to which she was accustomed.

  She would feel aches in parts of her body she didn't know existed. She would go to bed sore and exhausted.

  She would learn that anything she wanted, she would have to put sweat and blood into it.

  A part of me rebelled at the idea. Of her needing to face those realities, of having to work for everything. Some strange part of me wanted her to continue to be pampered, to be able to live a life of comfort.

  The other, though, knew it wasn't something I had a say in, that I could shield her from.

  It wouldn't be up to me.

  The elders would demand she work for her keep like every other able-bodied member of our clan.

  True, they might be forgiving of the fact that she wasn't of our stock, that she wasn't born of fire, that she didn't have the naturally stronger build our kind did. Her body was smaller, slighter, more easily strained or broken.

  These men and women who I had been raised with, they had been kind, understanding of physical disadvantages, allowing those who could not do the same amount of work to put in fewer hours or do simpler tasks.

  But no one would be allowed to sit in their home and do nothing.

  Not even the old, the pregnant, the young, or the precious few missing limbs, or without sight or hearing would be allowed to do nothing, to let their lives become useless, to let their bodies become weak and more prone to sickness.

  I couldn't stop that from becoming a part of Amy's life.

  My gaze went to her - a few feet ahead of me, walking side-by-side with Smoky, the differences between the two women apparent, the evidence of their vastly different lifestyles clear to any who might observe them.

  Amy, while slight, small even, was rounder at the hip, ass, breast, proof of a belly that had never known the concave of hunger that Smoky's taller, leaner body did.

  And while both were covered in layers now to stave off the freezing cold, I had seen both with fewer clothes on. Amy was pale, blemish-less, each bit of skin milky white and flawless. Smoky was a map of scars, proof of a life of hard work, of near misses, of pain and terror.

  Smoky's hair was long, tangled in parts, decorated with things she had found - or stolen.

  Amy's was long, but combed relentlessly to a shine, free of any styling or decoration.

  If you came across the two at a market, you would know from one glance that the women came from different worlds.

  I wondered if the same could be said a year from now.

  Of Amy.

  Would she still look like she would often host high tea, had rubbed shoulders with royalty?

  Or would she start to look more like Smoky, more rugged, more weather-beaten, her body a map of her own scars?

  "She'll be fine," Sal told me, coming out of nowhere. Last I had seen him, he had rushed ahead to do a circle around us, making sure we weren't being followed.

  He and Smoky took turns, Smoky going up to swing between the trees, getting a better vantage point.

  Both of them created a protective circle around us, knowing what was at stake if we were captured.

  And even if Smoky maybe had her own motivations, it felt nice to have people around you who had your back, who were looking out for your interest.

  It had been so long since I knew what that was like.

  "She's not used to the kind of life my kind lives," I admitted to him.

  "The Winters live in a giant compound full of servants," he seemed to agree with me.

  "Yeah."

  "You saw her place in the city, Drake," he told me, shrugging when my gaze went to him. "If you spread your arms out, you could practically touch all the walls. She went from a giant estate to a little hole. She went from having everything handed to her to having to work for it. I think she is more adaptable than you are giving her credit for. She just wants a life on her own terms, with freedom to choose what she does, who she associates with. If that means she will have to put some labor in, I think she will be fine with that." He paused, letting that sink in. "I think she is more worried about the social aspect of it."

  "How
so?"

  "My kind, your kind, we come from communities, from groups of people who think similarly, act similarly. Amethyst comes from a very solitary upbringing. The Winters, while feared and maybe begrudgingly respected, have never been popular members of any society, happy to keep to themselves, foster their secrets, plot their schemes. She spent time in the human realm, likely studying their ways, so she felt relatively comfortable going into that world, connecting with those people. She knows nothing of your people, doesn't know how to act with them, doesn't know if they will think less of her, look down on her."

  He was right.

  She was worried about being accepted, having connections, fitting in. About having to be alone again. Without a friend in the world.

  I understood that.

  Having been alone for so long, without anyone I could call a friend, I knew that desire for more. And I also knew I was guaranteed to find that when I went home.

  Amy didn't have that guarantee.

  And I couldn't even promise it to her.

  I didn't know who would still be around.

  I didn't know who she could build bonds with.

  All I could promise her, I had.

  She would have me.

  No matter what happened, no matter how much she may struggle to find connections elsewhere, she would have me.

  And maybe I could find a way to get messages from my land to her brother or sister.

  In fact...

  "Would you ever be able to get messages to the Light Court?" I asked Sal, noticing his gaze pinned to the back of Smoky who had been ignoring him for hours after some kind of dispute on where the better area was to gather berries in summer - of all things.

  "For Amy?" he asked, shooting me a knowing look. "Yeah. I could drop by every now and again to carry some messages to and from the Seelie Court. My family is always on my case about paying my respects to Ang more often. They'd be happy to know I was there more frequently. We could work out an arrangement. The first day of each season or something. Meet where we met the first time."

  "You can pay me however much a bag of those almonds costs. Give me an excuse to head into the human realm every now and again."

  That seemed more than fair.

  It only cost a few dollars for the almonds. From what I understood - loosely - of human money, it was very little. And Amy had thousands of human dollars that would be mostly useless to her except to trade with those who knew how the human realm worked, and were willing to step over into it every now and again.

  "You got a deal," I agreed, nodding. "I think it will help," I added. "Letting her keep some of her old connections. Even if she can't see them, just to be able to know what was going on with their lives might help her feel more comfortable."

  "I'm happy to help."

  He meant that, too.

  I wasn't sure if it was simply true of his kind - as it was true of my kind that we tried to be non-violent whenever possible - but Sal was very giving, very easy-going.

  "You're going to try to give her the almonds, aren't you?" I asked, making him let out a snort.

  "I think I am going to suddenly become very bad at cards," he told me, smirking. "That way, she can win them. Sort of. Without feeling like her pride needs to take a hit. The stubborn ass woman."

  "You ever going to give up on her?"

  "Would you give up on Amy?" he shot back, having a point. "I know it looks different from the outside. Amy is small, soft, sheltered. You feel like she needs you. And Smoky couldn't seem more different if she tried. She's strong, hardened, has been through everything. But she needs me too. Whether she'd admit that or not. She needs connections, even if she is too stubborn to forge them. She needs to have a place to go."

  "Your family," I guessed.

  "That, yes. But also just me. When life gets too hard, too ugly, she likes to come to me. For a little comfort of sorts, some warmth. I figure if she gets used to it enough, she won't fight it so hard. She'll settle into it."

  "And you're willing to wait for that? For years? Decades?"

  To that, he sucked in a deep breath, holding it, exhaling on what was eerily similar to a sigh.

  "It's not like my life is on standstill waiting for her," he told me, shrugging. "I have a family, brothers and sisters, dozens of nieces and nephews. I have a community. I have bonds and work and interests. Life goes on even when she takes off in the morning hours right before sun-up, thinking she is sneaking out on me, that I wasn't awake, aware she was going to leave me, not to be seen or heard from for half a year. I don't pine. But I wait."

  "Why her?" I asked. "You could have your pick, I'd think." He was charming, good-looking, funny, attentive. All things women in his own tribe would fall over themselves to get to claim as their own.

  He shook his head as he watched Smoky throw her head back, letting out a rich, throaty laugh at something Amy said.

  "See that?" he asked, smiling a little. "If you'd known what she's been through, you would understand how beautiful that is. That she is still even capable of that. That while she has let life give her a shell, walls, shields, she has them to protect what is inside. Because it's all soft in there, man. Gooey, even. She hasn't let things harden her, just used them to build a protective barrier so nothing can get inside and cause any more damage. I've known a lot of women," he went on. "Believe me, I've had my choice many times over. Or so I thought. I could have chosen one of them, settled down, started my own family. It would have been easy. But I don't want easy. I want her. Hard and complicated and bitter, clawed and barbed. I want the woman who was raised by the woods to realize she can find home in me. That's what I want. And, I think, that is worth waiting for. Just like you," he told me, giving me a smirk, "will wait for your sunflower until she realizes your ass has been pining for her all those lonely days in chains."

  "I never..." I started.

  "Oh, please," he cut me off, chuckling. "Like it needed to be said. I have eyes, Draca. I see the way you look at her. And not just because she saved you. That's not gratitude you are feeling, no matter how much you are trying to convince yourself of that. That is want, plain and simple. And look how the stars have aligned to give you what you have been longing for. You got a lifetime to prove to her that she wants you too."

  With that, he charged up, throwing his arms around both women's shoulders.

  If I hadn't been watching so closely, I would have missed it. The way Smoky's body melted into his for a moment before she stiffened and yanked away.

  Amy's head swiveled, giving me an uneven smile, her eyes uncertain, but amused.

  Sal wasn't wrong.

  I wanted her.

  I'd wanted her in a forbidden way, from a distance, when I was a slave and she the daughter of my master.

  It was something I had always convinced myself had been purely biological.

  There weren't many women around, and even fewer ones who were beautiful. Inside and out.

  I was a man.

  I had needs.

  Even if they were long denied.

  Of course I had thought about her when she had come back one day a full grown woman, stunning in the way that would steal your breath.

  It was a natural, knee-jerk response.

  And of course I had a soft spot for her, this girl who had always tried to champion for me.

  Gratitude, that was what Sal had called it, what I myself had called it for so long, something that only intensified when she helped me out of my chains.

  But it was more than that.

  If I was being honest with myself.

  More.

  Much more.

  But I had needed to bury that. Because I had to leave her, I had to let her live the life she wanted while I went on and lived the one I had been denied for so long.

  There was no chance of having her in my world, of having her around for more than the journey it took to get her where she wanted to be, where she was safe.

  But everything had changed.

 
; Sal was right.

  I would have years, decades, longer if she decided she was happy with my kind.

  The opportunity was there for me.

  Whether she would want it too was anybody's guess.

  But it was an option where it had never been one before.

  I could wait.

  For her to adjust.

  For her to reconcile her feelings on this new world, with new connections.

  To maybe see me as an option.

  I was willing to see.

  To wait.

  "Oh, fuck this shit," Smoky growled, looking up at the sky, the fat white tufts of snow falling down around her hard and heavy. "How is it not spring yet? This winter has lasted my lifetime, I swear."

  "We'll have fire to keep warm if we can find a cave or something to get out of the snow in," Sal reminded her, rubbing his hands together for emphasis, the air around them smoking at the warmth. "You know the area better than anyone else. We near anything?"

  "The closest cave is at least an hour trek. We'll be soaked through by then. I think she's struggling already," she added, jerking her chin toward where Amy was huddled under a pine tree, one of her blankets wrapped around her shivering body.

  Winter was hard enough in The Green. I imagined it was made harder still when your body wasn't given a chance to adjust to it, to go from the most brutal part of summer in the human realm, to the hardest part of winter in this one. Her body wasn't able to keep up with the changes.

  "Is there anything enclosed?"

  Smoky took a breath, looking up at the sky again, thinking. "There's a shack. I can't guarantee it will be empty. Anyone who comes by it when they need it, take it over."

  "Is it far?"

  "Maybe five minutes off-course."

  "Worth a shot," Sal decided, looking at Amy with a worried crease to his brow. "Maybe you can convince her to share your body warmth on the way," he suggested before falling into step with Smoky, veering off from my ancestral land to seek the shelter we badly needed if this snow was going to keep falling as it currently was.