Bitter Leaves and
Charred Meat
She felt clear headed for the first time in days. It was as if someone stopped playing keep away with her consciousness. Her fever had broken sometime during the day while she slept. She still felt wrong, but her spirits were high for once. She barely remembered the fever dreams she had suffered through.
When he arrived back from hunting he was wearing a pair of ill-fitting pants. She pretended she wasn’t disappointed. He gave a rare smile.
“You are looking better,” he said.
He walked up to her to check her forehead. His hand was smooth and warmer than she expected. He seemed satisfied with his work. Her heart beat faster looking at him. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt a sense of dread at his happy face.
“I feel better,” Briar said with a shaky smile.
He lifted the furs to look at her leg. She could smell a faint odor of disease coming off of her. She was thoroughly embarrassed. The cast was a little off color at the top from the gash oozing onto it. The flesh seemed to be working it’s way back together around the stitchings. The color was less green than the last time, but the flesh was still angry and raw.
“Would you like to take a bath?” he asked, his hands hovering over her bum leg. He must have read her mind. For all she knows he can. She was mortified. She hoped he hadn’t noticed her smell.
“I would love to take a bath,” she said.
He lifted her up without warning, her bound leg awkwardly sticking straight out. He carried her out into the fresh air. It was good to feel the sun on her cheeks again.
He carried her in silence, deeper into the woods surrounding the cabin. Briar’s anxiety flared in her chest. She felt back in that moment, running through the forest after those people she never even saw. He was confident in his direction. She tried to relax.
The forest opened up some and a creek appeared. It was calmly meandering around, crystal clear, and in some parts deep enough to doggy paddle in. From the shore she could see the shimmer of small fish darting along the shallows.
He laid her down, unsure how to proceed. The ground beneath her was smooth stones of a deep grey. A dead fish lay a few feet further downstream, surrounded by a cloud of small pale butterflies. It looked like they were tasting it’s flesh. Briar looked away, nauseous again.
“Do you need help?” he asked awkwardly. When he looked down at her she felt so small and broken. She needed so much help. Briar looked away.
“No I should be fine, but do you mind turning around?” she asked.
He complied. She sat for a moment on the shore, her heart beating just a little bit quicker. She had never been fully nude in the woods before. She tried to remind herself that there was probably no one around for miles.
When Aster finally scraped up enough money for her little red car she insisted on taking the two of them camping on their own. Briar’s parents were against it, Aster’s parents were against it. Even Briar herself did not think it was a good idea.
But of course, she persisted.
‘I’ve always wanted to go skinny dipping,” Aster had whispered to her as they sat in front of their first pitiful fire.
Briar opened her mouth to speak as Aster raced off towards the creek. Briar quickly put the fire out of its misery before chasing after her with their lantern.
Briar stayed on the shore, anxiously scanning the surrounding trees for onlookers. No amount of friendly jeers could get her to reveal herself.
Aster floated on her back, exposing all of her body to the moon. She looked almost like a corpse in the shivering water.
‘I’m an adult now,’ she had said through chattering teeth.
Although it was a tender memory, that evening had led to a fight. Somehow, despite Briar sitting on the shore in front of her, Aster’s clothing had gone missing. No matter how Briar defended herself, her cousin insisted it was an inside job.
Briar did not sleep that night, wondering who was in the woods watching.
Now, here she was about to do the same thing with a man present. Briar began to remove her clothes, starting with her top. Wearing the same clothes for so long she felt she would never be clean. It felt like removing a layer of skin. It took concentration to pull the fabric over her head. Her arms felt so tight and weak.
Her pants were much more tricky. By the time she pulled herself out of them she was having trouble breathing. In the end she decided she would much rather have no pants ever again, than put the jeans back on. Even with some of the material removed they were still her favorite.
“Are you sure you don’t need help?” he asked. She must have taken too long.
“I’m fine,” she squeaked.
When she was fully nude, she looked down at herself in disgust. So much of her body had been covered in clothes so she did not know the extent of her injuries. Most of her skin was covered in angry bruises, a sickly green color at this point in their healing. A few particularly harsh ones on her chest were still a deep purple.
She struggled to get deep enough in the water to wash herself without getting her newly placed cast wet. She tried to scoot further into the icy water but her leg was too much of a hindrance.
“I guess I do need help. I can’t hold my leg out of the water and wash at the same time. Could you just, not look?” she said. He nodded, turning around with eyes closed.
She assumed when he agreed to help he would help her hold her leg up, but that was not the facet of her difficulty he honed in on. He slowly waded into the water with his eyes closed until he was behind her. His breath warm on the back of her neck.
He began to rub down her back with wet hands. Briar was all at once shocked and excited. She let him continue for a moment, wondering if she wanted to stop him. She decided she did not mind, but her arms continued to shake from holding her bad leg up above the water line.
“That is not what I meant. I wanted you to hold my leg out of the water,” Briar said. His brow furrowed. His hands paused just above her breasts.
“Oh,” he said. He moved back in front of her. He held her leg at his side.
She huffed, releasing her arms to support herself. She should have just let him continue. She rubbed down the rest of her body. It was hard to tell what was grime and what was injuries. She carefully dribbled water onto the gash in her leg. She decided she was not going to get any cleaner without any actual soap.
“I don’t suppose you have a washing machine?” she asked. She looked back at her sad pile of crusty clothes on the shore. He shook his head genuinely.
“I might have some clothes in my pile that might fit you,” he said.
He finally opened his eyes, but kept them level with hers. She almost wanted him to look. They were both nude, both vulnerable. If he looked they could be on the same level of modesty.
He gently picked her up out of the creek. Her dripping body leaning against his chest. She did her best to hold onto him while covering the worst of her bruises. They left her pile of clothes where they lay.
They slowly meandered their way back up to the cabin. He definitely walked more leisurely on the trip back than the way there. His arms were firm around her, she was pretty sure it wasn’t because he was tired. She took a secret pleasure in the thought of him taking his time.
***
By the time they reached the clearing she was more or less dried off. The chill in the air made her cling to him closer. He laid her down on the fur pile. The feel of the soft fur on her bare skin made her shiver.
He paused for a moment, staring down at her while trying not to. A blush crawled across her skin as he turned away to get her clothes. There were all sorts of clothes in his strange collection. Windbreakers, jeans, sweats, t-shirts, expensive hiking clothes.
“Why do you have such a large pile of clothes?” she asked. Or any clothes at all, she thought. “A lot of it looks like it wouldn’t even fit you.”
“A lot of people forget their clothes,” he said. Briar narrowed her eyes
at that.
“Forget? So you stole them all is what you are saying?” she said. He looked back at her with an impish smile before going back to sorting through the pile. A few things he held up to smell, before throwing back.
When he came back to her side he was holding a very large dark green henley shirt.
“Well? Where is the rest of it?” she said. He seemed insulted by the implication.
“I don’t have any dresses, this is the longest thing I have. Would you rather have to put pants on over your leg?” he said. He really had thought it through. She felt guilty.
He threw the shirt at her from across the room. She pulled it over her head and sure enough it was large enough to swallow her whole. She was glad to cover up the bruises dotting her front. Her legs remained showing however, even the less damaged one disgusted her.
He yawned dramatically. She realized she had kept him up way past his bedtime.
“Sorry I didn’t mean to keep you up so early. I’ll let you get some rest,” she said.
Usually, he would jump at the chance to change his skin and go to sleep. This time however, he walked over to the nest of furs and laid down next to her.
There was no touching, no talking. She felt the heat of him next to her and it made it hard to sleep. She turned from one side to the other. As she turned to face him she realized he was still awake too, his eyes open and watching. He blushed, a first for him, and turned to face the wall.
She found herself up the rest of the day, trying desperately to find sleep. She felt almost claustrophobic.
When the sun set and she heard him stirr next to her she pretended to be waking up too. Her lids felt so heavy in the coming darkness. He left soon after, presumably to get her food. She tried to stay up for it but her body had other plans.
The smell of cooked meat awoke her a few hours later. She opened her eyes. The rhythmic pattern of rain outside welcomed her to this side of living. It was almost perfect, she thought.
“Hurray,” she whispered, her mind still thick with sleep. He turned and handed her some sort of mammal, hot and crispy. He did not speak, watching her take a few soft bites.
She slumped over, the cooked meat in her hand resting across her chest on its way to her mouth.
***
When she woke up he was not around. It was still dark outside but she had a feeling it would not be for long. So maybe she wasn’t as used to an owl’s hours as she thought she was. She clicked on the camping lantern and grabbed her crutches. A little fresh air on the porch would do her some good.
In the milky darkness she could spot a pair of small glowing eyes in the forest. It was not the glowing that comes from a cat when a light shines on them. This glow was independent, like a candle glowing within them. She could not make out what creature the eyes belonged to. She was afraid. She wanted to scream, to ask what they wanted. Something compelled her to silence.
As the world became more grey, fog began making its way down the mountain. The faint pinks of morning began to seep into the atmosphere. All of this must have been beautiful, but she could not tear herself away from the eyes. They did not waver, did not blink. It was to the point where she wondered if she was overreacting, if they were even eyes at all.
The unmistakable call of an owl rang out from somewhere in the distance. The eyes in the forest turned away. She could hear the creature running. Whatever it was going to do, it clearly did not want an audience.
He flew in fast, transforming in mid air to land gasping on his heels at her feet. It was all much quicker than she had seen before. The sense of urgency frightened her.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked. She scooted back a little at his tone.
“What? I’m bored so I decided to get some fresh air.” She said. The truth, but it felt like lying to not mention the thing in the forest. Something stopped her from talking about it either way.
“It’s not safe for you out here,” he said. Her cheeks flushed. Maybe she wasn’t overreacting earlier. She wanted to ask about the other creatures in the forest, but she was afraid.
“As I said, you now know the truth of me and others like me.” he said, motioning towards his eyes. “None can hide from you. If others see you, and find out you see them too, they may kill you.” His voice was hushed, but urgent.
With this information she wondered if that is what she saw in the forest. Some sort of creature who can transform like he can. What did he call himself? Woodswalkers.
“Why?” At this point she was shaking. Not from his warning, but the tone of his voice. Ever since she was a child she would cry when someone raised their voice at her. It did not matter the situation, or the validity of the criticism. She tried to hold it inside.
“If you know what we are you can expose us, hurt us. Hunt us down.” he said.
The weight of this seemed heavy for him. It must have been hard for him to expose himself to her, knowing she could make him unsafe in return. Her heart grew for him. He saved her, even though she could ruin him.
He settled down next to her on the porch. They sat there for a moment, watching the fog ebb and flow down from the mountain. It really was beautiful.
“Is there magic?” she asked suddenly. “You know, like wands and spells and witches?”
He leaned in close to her, until she could feel his breath hot on her ear. She shivered, all thoughts running out of her mind. She was acutely aware of his nude body so close to hers.
“We don’t talk about that,” he said.
She swallowed. It still felt weird being so close to him. The thought of this secret opened so many doors in her mind. How many other mythical creatures were real? Does he know bigfoot? Would he tell her if he did?
When he pulled away, she could tell he was hiding a smile. She playfully smacked him on his chest. He laughed for the first time, loud and booming.
“We aren’t part of some all knowing magic club that knows all of the other magical things in the world,” he said between gasping laughs. She looked at him disappointed. She was clearly expecting a different answer. He saw her reaction and sighed. “Maybe? I don’t know honestly.”
“Well how am I supposed to know any of this at all? I feel like I’ve been here long enough now without knowing anything about how you work.” She was upset.
“How I work?” The thought was funny to him. The corners of his lips turned up in a smirk.
“Yes! How do you age? Were you born this way? Can you change into more than one animal? What is your default state? If you have food in your stomach when you change where does it go? How do you reproduce?” She blushed at her own last question. It all came out at once like word salad.
She was thrust into a whole new world of mythical creatures. She was even living with one for the past week or so and he was not forthcoming with information. It was frustrating. He barely talked when they were both awake and not focused on fulfilling their basic needs.
“Can you change into anything other than an owl?” She asked. He looked at her with an expression she could not read. She felt self conscious under his gaze.
“I can only change into a human,” he clarified. She thought on it for a moment. It clicked.
“So you were born an owl then?”
He nodded. She wanted to ask more, but he was disinterested in more questions. He leaned away, crossing his arms. It seemed he had done all the talking he was willing to do at the moment. They sat in silence, watching the world get brighter. It was nice to be outside again. She felt like she was going crazy cooped up in the cabin.
She was tense though, staring out into the distance waiting for the creature to make its appearance again. Whatever it did want it would not come back when he was here.
He yawned heavily. “Want to head to bed?” he asked. She nodded.
She noticed he left her crutches out there on the porch. It made her nervous. He didn’t do it on purpose, did he? She tried to ignore the panicked thoughts. It is just her anxiety talking.
> When they got inside he carried her to bed. She expected him to go back to his owl form and go to sleep somewhere else, but he surprised her by laying down with her in her bed for the second night in a row. It was distracting, feeling him next to her. He fell asleep soon after, but she had trouble sleeping.
She tossed and turned in bed, dragging her clunky leg into various positions. She felt like she could not get comfortable. Eventually her tossing seemed to have woken him. He reached out an arm to pull her towards him. She ended up nestled in the crook of his arm where she found her sleep.
***
When he woke up he stretched himself out. He looked over at her for a moment, maybe deciding something. He stood up and faced her. She tried to look all the way up to his face.
“I’m going to go get some breakfast.”
She cringed to herself. If he was gone, the creature might show up again to get her. Her stomach growled loudly. She barely got enough to eat as is. She can’t force him to stay with her all night. She had to be an adult about it.
“Can you go get my crutches? You forgot them on the porch.” She asked quietly. She held her breath, wondering if this would be a problem. If he left them there on purpose, he probably wouldn't give them back.
“Of course.” He said. She let her breath out.
“Now, I’m off to catch some breakfast. I might be out for a while, I thought it would be nice to go pick some berries to bring back.” He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes.
“That would be great. Thank you.” She could feel the falsehood as he said it, but she did not want to argue about it. He must have had some reason to lie, some secret business to attend to. She did not have to know every aspect of his life while she was staying there.
He gave her one last look before he left. As soon as he closed the door she could hear him take off. Using her crutches she stood up, but thought better of it. She did not want to go outside again today so soon. She wanted to know what the creature had wanted, but she did not have the courage to give it a chance so soon.
***
He came in ragged and dirty. The bag he carried was full. He took tired steps over to the table and began to remove it’s contents. Handful after handful of wild berries were set on the table. They began to roll off to ping on the floor. He pulled out a few more of the leaves to go with it, and two dead doves.
Pluck (The Woodswalker Novels) Page 4