by Hondo Jinx
“I did.”
Another groan. “Please tell me you didn’t swear by the springs and streams.”
Now it was Braddock’s turn to frown. “I take it that’s a bad thing.”
“Yes, it is. It’s a very bad thing. It means you must honor the promise. There is no way around it.” She looked thoughtful for a second, then smiled weakly and pulled his head forward to plant a kiss on his hairline.
“I lost my hat again,” he said.
Philia was off in a flash. She zoomed across the shore, dipped down like a dragonfly, plucked at the surface of the pool, zipped back, and handed Braddock his dripping hat.
“Thank you.” He was about to give the hat a shake, but it dried instantly in his hand.
Faint laughter rose from the river, muffled by the depths. He scowled at the little line of bubbles bursting on the surface.
Taking Philia by the arm, he turned from the water. “Let’s get out of here, darlin.”
But the lovely sprite stopped and stood on tiptoes, examining his neck. “That filthy little nymph! She marked you!”
He laughed bitterly. “You sure I can’t get out of those kisses?”
Philia started toward home. “I’m positive. We must exercise great caution. Water sprites can’t be trusted. You mustn’t give in to her seductions, husband.”
“Why? I thought you wanted me to bond with other monster girls.”
“That is true. But you mustn’t bond with a water sprite.”
“What are they, evil?”
“Not evil. Reckless. She might get swept into passion and accidentally drown you.”
“Well, I don’t have time to drown. There’s too much work that needs done.”
Philia’s warning rattled Braddock. Because he doubted, if Cascadia had pulled him to the bottom, that he would have even fought the drowning.
After all, he didn’t even remember entering the water. He had been completely swept into the moment, into her.
Even now, realizing she could’ve killed him, Braddock felt a sick and urgent desire to charge back and dive into the river. That’s how much he wanted that woman.
“When you kiss her, I will accompany you,” Philia said. “It would be best to dole out the kisses, one per visit.”
He nodded. “One a year sounds about right.”
Philia shook her head. “You swore by the springs and streams, husband. Unless you set forth a specific deadline, the debt of kisses must be paid within one year.”
He nodded, taking it all in, and reminded himself to stay on the lookout in the here and now. Otherwise, they might end up as a midmorning snack for the woolly dragon, the giant grizzly, the massive eagle, or some other hungry monster.
Philia said, “Until you have paid the debt in full, you must be very careful near water.”
“The river, you mean?”
“No, Cascadia might appear in any water of consequence. A river, a creek, a lake, even a small watering hole in the forest might be enough. She has tasted your kiss. Her blood will burn with the memory of it. Her sex will ache for you night and day. She will be lurking now, hunting you.”
Philia stopped in front of him, reached up, and started messing with his collar. Finally, she frowned and gave up. “It’s no use. I can’t cover the huge hickey. It’s not exactly lordly, but oh well, there’s nothing we can do about it now. Perhaps she won’t even notice when we reach the meadow.”
“I don’t really care if Elizabeth notices. Besides, she’ll just think you and me got into it.”
Philia shook her head, laughing, and suddenly, she was bouncing with excitement.
“What’s got you all riled up, darlin?”
Her eyes flashed bright green, and her smile grew huge. “Something amazing has happened, husband! That is why I left our meadow and came looking for you. I am so excited, I could burst like a seedpod!”
“Quit beating around the mesquite. What’s going on?”
“I wasn’t talking about Elizabeth noticing the mark. A very special visitor awaits you in the meadow, husband!”
17
The tiny sprite knelt before Braddock in full submission, her honey-colored locks spread atop his boot, which she was peppering with desperate kisses.
Braddock wanted no part of it.
But for the sake of Philia and this newcomer, Tilly, he needed to act like a Meadow Master. Philia had explained that and other sprite customs as she begged for his help on the walk home.
So Braddock stood with his arms crossed, feigning bored disapproval as the tiny woman groveled at his feet.
“Please, Meadow Master,” Tilly begged, “please accept me as your faithful servant. It would be an honor beyond imagining and glory beyond comprehension to obey your every whim forever and ever.”
Braddock said nothing as Tilly kissed his boots, her tiny, heart-shaped bottom twitching back and forth.
He glanced to Philia and raised an eyebrow.
His wife offered a secret smile and raised a finger.
“I missed my Meadow Sister so much,” Tilly said between kisses. “Without Philia, the meadow no longer feels like home. The honey has lost its sweetness. The dew no longer glistens. Birdsong rings with mockery. Even mild afternoon breezes chill my tiny body.”
Tilly spilled forward onto her tummy, hugging his boot and squirming against the top of his foot. Her little skirt hiked up, revealing the lower edge of her little rump, twin slivers of curved green perfection in miniature.
Philia saw Braddock looking and grinned mischievously.
“Day by day, I fade, Meadow Master,” Tilly said. “Philia’s absence blights my soul. I wilt without her. She who was once my sweetest sister has flourished into a Meadow Mother, and all I desire is to dwell with her again, not as her Meadow Sister but as her Meadow Child. And as yours, Meadow Master, if you will have me.”
“We hear your cry, Tilly the wayward sprite,” Philia said in a stern voice, “but do you think it proper to expose your nakedness to the Meadow Master without first asking permission?”
Whimpering with embarrassment, Tilly shimmied back and forth, struggling to tuck the edge of her tight garment back down over her buttocks. “A thousand apologies, Meadow Master and Mother! I never intended to—”
“Silence!” Philia said, sticking to the icy role she had explained on the walk here.
But it wasn’t all playacting, Braddock realized. He could see that in Philia’s gleaming eyes and flushed cheeks.
Inwardly, he shrugged. Traveling the frontier, you learn the utility of adhering to local customs.
“Are you trying to seduce my husband without my permission?” Philia asked.
“No, Meadow Mother! Never! I didn’t—”
“Watch your tongue, wayward sprite! You dismiss the notion of seducing my husband far too enthusiastically. Don’t you find him desirable?”
Tilly’s little arms tightened around Braddock’s foot, and she rubbed against his boot like a purring kitten. “I do, Meadow Mother, I do desire the Meadow Master. He is—”
“You wish to serve him?”
“Yes, Meadow Mother. In every way he will allow.”
“You wish to suck his sap?”
The tiny sprite shuddered, moaning, “Yes, Meadow Mother. More than anything.” Beneath the thin gown, her tiny buttocks pulsed, clenching and relaxing, rising and falling.
The little meadow nymph was humping his foot!
“And what of me, wayward sprite?” Philia demanded. “Do you ache to sip my nectar?”
Another moan, another shudder. Tilly ground her miniature pelvis into the tip of Braddock’s boot as she whimpered, “More than you could possibly know, Meadow Mother. Your absence has been an unbearable agony. I long to once again worship between your legs, to fill my mouth with your sweet nectar, to bathe in your heavenly juices, to—”
“Silence!” Philia snapped. She was still pretending regal disdain, but her cheeks glowed as red as ripe apples.
Braddock reckoned
they would both need a roll in the hay after this was over. His encounter with Cascadia had left him throbbing. Seeing his wife so aroused had him aching again.
“How dare you express such breezy familiarity?” Philia demanded.
A panicked Tilly tried to respond, but Philia talked over her. “Do you think so little of me, lost child? Do you believe I remain the same giggling sprite you licked each night? I am no longer a lowly dew maiden, and we are no longer sisters. I am the Mother of this Meadow!”
“Yes, Meadow Mother. A thousand apologies. I—”
“Silence!” Philia bent and plucked the quivering little sprite from Braddock’s boot. Pinching Tilly’s wings between her thumb and forefinger, Philia held the tiny supplicant before his face.
“Well, husband, you have heard this wayward sprite’s pitiful plea and seen glimpses of her true nature. She is wanton and willful and far too familiar. Shall I pluck her wings and cast her from the meadow?”
Tilly wriggled and whimpered, emerald-green eyes bulging with terror. “Please Meadow Master, take mercy on me. I swear by the loam and rain I will serve you to the best of my ability, no matter what you demand, until my dying day.”
And there, at last, was the phrase Braddock had been waiting for. And that was good because he was sick of the playacting.
He turned to Philia. “Will you allow to serve as your handmaiden?”
Philia sighed and regarded her tiny friend with a furrowed brow. “If it is your will that she joins our meadow, yes; I would show mercy and allow her to serve as my handmaiden.”
“Thank you, Meadow Mother!”
“All right, then,” Braddock said, and held out his hand.
Philia set the weeping sprite on his open palm. Then Philia pressed the edge of her hand against Braddock’s.
Kneeling on all fours, Tilly spread her legs. She placed one knee on Braddock’s hand, one on Philia’s.
“Tilly, I hereby invite you to join this meadow,” Braddock said.
Tilly shuddered, weeping with gratitude. “Thank you, Meadow Master. Thank you!”
“Tilly,” Philia said in a regal voice, “with these hands, we work this meadow. Kiss them now and make your pledge.”
“Thank you, Meadow Mother,” Tilly sniffed. She leaned forward, kissed Philia’s hand, then swung her head to Braddock’s palm. Her golden tresses tickled across his flesh, and he felt her tiny lips press into the callous beneath his ring finger. “I swear by the loam and rain to serve you both, no matter the demand, as faithfully as your own hands, to the end of my days.”
Her skirt had hiked up again. But this time, her tiny bottom was glowing bright green. In fact, all of Tilly was glowing.
Philia gave Braddock a hip bump, signaling it was time to finish the ritual.
“Tilly,” he and Philia said together, “welcome to our meadow… and your new home.”
“Weeee!” Tilly shot in the air, trailing green sparks, and whirled over their heads, laughing joyously as she grew larger and larger. “Thank you, Master and Mother! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
She landed before them and examined her new body with an awed expression. Like Hortensia’s handmaidens, Tilly was around three feet tall.
Thanks to Tilly’s increased size, Braddock could see her features in greater detail.
Subtle coppery streaks warmed the honey-colored ringlets framing her pretty face. A spray of green freckles decorated her pointy little nose and glowing cheeks. Beneath the thin fabric of her clinging garment, her breasts were small yet perky. She was shorter through the body than Philia, with a tiny waist that flared momentously into wide, feminine hips.
Laughing joyously, Tilly twirled and swept her big, shapely bottom in a lovely blur across Braddock’s vision.
Beside him, Philia inhaled sharply.
His wife stood on tiptoes, back arched, hands tightened into fists, emanating a shimmering green aura.
All across the meadow, bright green flecks rose in the air, shining like fireflies.
Philia breathed deeply through her nostrils.
The twinkling motes rushed to join her aura, which expanded and brightened then exploded with a blinding green flash. A sudden gust rushed over Braddock.
He breathed deeply, pulling his lungs full of cold air. Instantly, he could feel the meadow all around him, could feel its vast and fertile acreage, its grass and soil and stones, its vitality and goodwill and acceptance.
He loved this meadow, and this meadow loved him. It was his home, his domain.
Its energy flowed into him, nourishing his life force and cultivating new power within his body. It was a glorious feeling, and when the breeze faded and the moment ended, new strength sang in his muscles, which crackled with energy, demanding work.
Philia and Tilly embraced, happy to be reunited. Tilly still referred to Philia as Meadow Mother, but Braddock was pleased to see the ritualistic formality was gone.
Philia took Tilly by the shoulders and smiled down at her tiny friend. “Go and meet the Meadow, beloved handmaiden. Its energy is wonderful.”
“I can already feel it!”
“The pleasure you feel now is nothing compared to what you will experience during communion.”
“Thank you both!” Tilly said with a curtsey and was just about to fly off when Philia stopped her.
“One more thing, Tilly. You will likely see a red-haired woman strolling the meadow and picking flowers. Don’t be alarmed. She is one of us.”
Tilly gave a little nod. “A human woman, Meadow Mother? How exciting! I do hope to meet her. But how should I address her? As Meadow Mistress? Mrs. Master?”
Philia shook her head. “No, the Meadow Master has not yet seeded the red-haired woman.”
Tilly looked confused. “Oh. I see.”
“Address her simply by her name, Elizabeth.”
“Yes, Meadow Mother,” Tilly said, and she shot off across the field to meet the meadow.
Philia met Braddock’s gaze and smiled uncertainly.
“Picking flowers, huh?” he said. “You charmed Elizabeth again?”
Philia looked at her feet. “I apologize, husband.”
“We talked about that.”
“Yes, husband, and I would have asked permission if you were here, but you were absent, and this was such an important moment, and I couldn’t risk Elizabeth ruining everything.”
He reached out and lifted her chin. “It’s okay, Philia. I understand. But—”
“Ask permission before charming Elizabeth again?” Philia guessed.
“That’s right. Now…” He drew her into an embrace. “Congratulations, Meadow Mother. You got your first handmaiden.”
“Thank you, husband!” Philia said, nuzzling against his chest. “The power surge is amazing. I’m excited to see what I can do.”
“I’m excited, too,” he said, and moving his hips forward, let her feel his hardness against her midsection.
“Oh, you certainly are excited, husband,” Philia laughed, cheeks instantly glowing bright red again.
He tugged her toward their cabin.
Beneath its recently finished roof of lashed saplings and sod, the cabin remained crude; but it was nonetheless home, and they appreciated the privacy it afforded them.
Philia paused at the door, smiling impishly. “Shall I call Tilly back to join us?”
Braddock shook his head.
“When you bond with her, you will elevate Tilly to Meadow Mistress. That will increase her power and boost ours, as well.”
Braddock opened the cabin door and swept Philia inside with a crisp pat to the fanny. “I don’t want a boost right now, darlin. I want you.”
18
“Quench your thirst, master?” Tilly asked, sidling up to where Braddock sat on the makeshift stool of a sawed-off log.
He nodded.
The tiny sprite fluttered up, lifted the tin pitcher, and hovered over the stone table like a hummingbird. As she filled his cup, the lower edge of her tight dr
ess was hiking up again.
Finishing the pour, Tilly twitched her bottom back and forth, then turned and gave a midair curtsey. Her sly smile told Braddock she knew exactly what she was doing.
“If I may use some of your barrel slats, master,” Tilly said, “I will soon serve more than water.”
“They aren’t his slats,” Elizabeth said from the other end of the table, “they’re mine.”
Ever since Philia’s charm spell dissipated, Elizabeth had been in a surly mood. She was visibly annoyed by the new sprite’s cavorting.
Philia stopped nibbling at her apple. “Oh, do please let Tilly use some of them, sweet sister.”
Elizabeth sawed at her venison. “I was planning to use them to create furniture and storage boxes.”
Philia gave a slight nod. “As you wish, sweet sister. But you are new to Tardoon. I suspect you have never tasted sprite wine, let alone the wine of a vine sprite. There is nothing so wonderful as vine sprite wine, and no vine sprite wine so sweet as Tilly’s.”
“Thank you, Meadow Mother,” Tilly said, giving another curtsey.
Elizabeth regarded the blond-haired sprite thoughtfully. “You could make wine casks from these slats?”
“Yes, of course,” Tilly said, smiling brightly. “If I build the casks and harvest grapes tomorrow, we will have wine in winter.”
“That fast?” he said.
“Yes, master. Perhaps even early winter, but you will never taste a more perfectly aged wine.”
Philia purred. “Oh, how I wish we had some of your wine now, Tilly.”
“All right,” Elizabeth said with a dismissive wave, “build a few casks. Let us taste this wine of yours.”
“Thank you, Elizabeth!” Tilly said.
Though she had only been with them a few hours, Tilly had already made herself useful, flying back and forth from the site of Braddock’s ill-fated hunt and retrieving his knife and spears.
She had seen no sign of the woolly dragon. Unfortunately, the sheep he had bagged was gone, too.
But then Philia, strengthened by having gained her first handmaiden, had gone with Braddock into the woods and helped him to quickly locate and kill a deer.