Pluck (The Woodswalker Novels)

by Emilia S. Morrow

  “It doesn’t have a name,” he said. “It’s just a lake.”

  What quiet voices floated across the lake were in that same, mysterious language she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She wanted to speak in return but did not know what to say. It was like singing along to a song without knowing the lyrics.

  He placed her gently on the shore, panting quietly and stretching his arms above his head. He took off his backpack that held the food and placed it carefully on a low hanging branch. Briar couldn’t help but notice the wetness at the bottom of the bag. Most definitely the melted ice cream.

  “I want to swim.” She whispered, watching the others amongst the starry water. She looked back up at him, desperation in her heart. She wanted to be a part of whatever this was. “I know I can’t get my cast wet.”

  “Then let’s swim,” he said, his voice husky. He pulled a trash bag out of the backpack. He really had thought this out, she thought as he tightened the plastic around her leg.

  “It probably will still get wet, but I can always replace the cast if it comes to that,” he said in warning. Briar shivered at the thought of removing it. It’s the only thing holding her together.

  It felt strange removing her clothes, knowing those shimmering beings were at the other end of the lake. They seemed so comfortable in their skins, moving around in the water like they were born of it. He kneeled down next to her, his hands snaking across her waist to pull her sweater above her head. She tried to be as confident as the figures across the lake. But she could not help placing an arm over her small breasts.

  The air was strangely warm here, despite the chill that held near the cabin that night. She watched as he removed his own sweaty clothes. His dark skin gleamed like honey flowing from comb. She wanted him. She tried to look away.

  Briar stood to enter the water. With his help she dipped her good toe in the tepid waters. Well, it wasn’t the coldest she’s had to deal with, that’s for sure. They wadded out far enough to not touch the sludge at the bottom of the lake.

  Briar realized that some of the stars on the lake were not reflected from above, but below. The lights parted as they swam ahead, large fish with two souls. Her stomach twisted in knots. She felt just on the edge of panic. There was so much life, pulsing in waves around her. She was scared of being bitten.

  “They won’t do anything,” he said as if sensing her hesitation.

  He reached out a hand to steady her. She leaned in to embrace him, skin against skin. She cannot reach the bottom of the lake. Goosebumps run a trail down her arms. She hoped he could keep her floating.

  She closed her eyes dreamily, focusing on the sensations of the currents of his fingers down her back. He nuzzled against her neck, biting the skin there gently until she gasped. He whispered sweet nothings into her ear, but it was not English he was speaking. The sounds all flowed together in one long stream, but the noises were not very varied. Whatever it was, it sounded positive.

  “What is that?” She finally asked. He pulled away just enough to look at her in the eyes.

  “It’s our language.” He whispered back, his tone making it clear he thought that was obvious.

  “Can you teach me?” Briar asked, her hands coming up to wrap around his neck.

  He smiled brightly, genuinely. Her mind went back to the voices in the woods, drawing her off to the cliff. Or, more recently the men discussing her fate as if she wasn’t there.

  “It’ll be hard,” he warned, but his tone is light and excited. Briar nodded.

  “I know Spanish,” she offered.

  “Do you?” He whispered, breath hot in her ear. She wondered if he even knew what Spanish was. Or even what Spain was.

  “Well, I could ask where the library is at least,” she admitted. She was once again distracted by his movements under the surface. He laughed, returning to nuzzling her neck.

  His hands traveled lower, just barely grazing her skin until he reached her lower back. Her legs reached out tentatively to grasp his waist to keep her from floating away. This only spurred him on, hands grasping her bottom and pulling her closer. She gasped, a soft moan of surprise leaving her lips. Briar looked over to the others across the lake, but they paid them no mind.

  He was all instinct, all hormones. There was no practice here, no moves copied from a worn out VHS. It was all a little voice saying touch me, touch me, touch me.

  “Not yet,” she whispered, nervous and unsure.

  He detangled from her, wicked eyes glowing. His hands moved to her back, where they stayed and caressed. They slowly drifted back along the shore.

  “The sun will be up soon, we should leave so we can make it back in time,” he said, standing up in the muck.

  Briar looked up at the sky, still perfectly darkened. It didn’t seem that way to her. Did he want to leave because she did not want to do anything tonight?

  “I think we can stay a little longer,” she said.

  Briar looked back at the woodswalkers on the other end of the lake. She wanted to reach out, to swim amongst them. He looked from her, then back to the others in the distance.

  “They won’t let you near them. They aren’t around a lot of you.” He warned, seeing the look in her eyes.

  Briar nodded. He seemed to want to stop her, but decided against it. He returned to the shallows, content to sit and watch her swim in peace for a while longer.

  She swam closer and closer to the ethereal figures across the lake. Briar wanted to join them, to learn their secrets. There was something compelling about them, something that drew her in towards them and away from her lover on the shore.

  As she drew closer she saw figures locked in embrace, arguing, dancing in the shallows. The figure closest to her was an ashen skinned woman, swimming on her back. Briar swam closer, her heart beating in her throat. The woman seemed to notice her, turning slowly to swim closer.

  Her breath halted, afraid to scare her away. The woman had an air of other about her, further still than Pepper or her lover. Something told her that this woman never pretended to be a real person. Briar reached a pruney skinned hand up in greeting. The woman’s eyes widened in quiet horror.

  Before her eyes the woman sprouted scales. They rippled slowly over her changing form until there was no woman left to watch. At the sound of the fish splashing back into the depths, all of the other beings across the lake froze. From the distance she watched as does, bucks, bobcats, foxes all scattered where once there was laughter.

  Briar turned back towards the shore, paddling now in the middle of the lake. Her skin felt on fire, heavy shame on her shoulders. She didn’t want to ruin their congregation. Especially while he was there to witness her failure.

  “Maybe next time.” He called out, no longer needing to whisper. She can hear the laughter in his voice.

  How Feral?

  He left her much like every day, flying away to leave her crippled in their home. She wished she could go with him out into the world. If she knew how much time had passed already, she would count the days till she could cut the cast off.

  Briar searched through the pile of books, eager to devour every one. Before, she wasn’t too into reading. She filled her days with many things, but almost never books. Aster was always recommending titles to her, but Briar felt it was all a lot of work. To put herself through all of the heartbreak and intrigue so often was exhausting.

  A glimmer of recognition amongst the well-used piles of unremarkable fluff. It was a book Aster had recommended over and over. It was her favorite. Something about seeing it sent a wave of loneliness through her.

  Briar ran her fingers over the well-worn copy. It was a young adult novel about a dragon princess discovering her place in the world. Briar felt a pang of guilt. She had never given it a chance. She carefully spread the soft pages.

  She owed it to her now to give it a chance. If Aster did not feel too traumatized by losing Briar in these mountains she hoped she would be able to see her again. Briar wasn’t sure how she wou
ld know when to look for her, but she would give it her best.

  She wondered how feral she would be by this time next year.

  Her legs felt useless below her. Something within her said go, go, go, but her body could not fill the request. She kicked her legs to attempt to quiet their desires. There is something cruel about having a restless body and a mangled leg.

  ***

  Her frustration turned to anger when the owl finally landed on the window frame. He took his time slipping out of his feathers. He used his fresh legs to go get his hunting bag from outside where he had dropped it to land.

  “I’m going crazy here,” she said the moment he was back in the room. He dropped the small black bag on the table. He didn’t seem ready to have a conversation. “I need more to do. I need something to do.”

  “I brought you books. A lot of books.” He picked up the book she had been reading, shaking it in front of her as if that proved his point. She felt like a dog being punished. “Don’t your kind like books?”

  Briar felt her stomach twist. She scooted further back into the bed. “Not all of us, no.”

  “Well what did you do before this?” he asked. This, being the total upheaval of her former life. It deserved more than that dismissal.

  She thought of what, up until last March, was what took up most of her time. She toiled away at class after class, blindly taking whatever would get her the degree fastest. Each passing semester she grew more indifferent with the major she had chosen. By the time she had walked across the stage she was numb to the joy it should have brought her.

  “I have a job,” she said, although at this point she probably didn’t anymore.

  The indifference she held for her current line of work was apparently mutual. She was worried she wouldn’t be able to get the week off to go on her annual camping trip. When she asked, her manager barely looked up from his newspaper. They didn’t need her that bad, he had said.

  “I’m sure you could do something similar here,” he said. He spread his palms out as if to offer her a solution.

  “But that isn’t an activity people enjoy. It’s just something we do,” Briar said.

  “Why do you spend so much time doing something you do not enjoy?” he asked, wrinkling his nose at her tone.

  “You do things you don’t want because other people are willing to pay you to do it,” she said, to another blank stare. “They give you money, which you use to get what you want.”

  “I have things that I want and I don’t have a job,” he said, his hand gripping her thigh.

  “That isn’t right,” she said.

  Although truly, that sounded preferable. If she could spend her life doing what she wanted without the need for a job, she would. She wondered if there was anyone who wouldn’t.

  “I didn’t use this skin all that much before,” he murmured. “So I guess I should take your word for it.”

  Briar leaned in closer. Somehow it did not really come to her before. Yes, her life did have an upheaval. But what about the man before her?

  “I feel like I don’t know a thing about you,” she said. “What did you do before all of this?”

  “That isn’t a very useful question amongst us,” he said. “We don’t deviate that much from each other.”

  “Well what do you all do then?” she asked.

  “You eat, you sleep. You grow. You find a mate. You have children, you raise them. You die,” he said with a shrug. The thought made Briar sick. A whole life, condensed into survival and breeding. Is that what her life here had in store?

  “Well, I’m already grown. I don’t have or want children right now. I need something to do,” she said. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

  “I don’t mean to offend your way of life,” she said.

  “No, you are right.” The owl would not meet her eye. “I will try and find more things to meet your needs.”

  ***

  He arrived back at the cabin triumphant. His smile was warm but self conscious.

  “What is it?” Briar asked, her own smile matching his.

  His arms come out from behind his back to reveal a radio. It was a traditional, hand cranked radio for emergencies or outdoor use. The radio was very clearly used, scuff marks marred the painted surface.

  Her hands reached out to grasp the radio, shaking slightly in anticipation. It had been almost a month since she had heard any music. He probably stole it from some unwitting camper. She should be upset by this.

  She could hardly turn the crank fast enough. Sound springs forth from speakers. It was a weak, crackling signal, but the notes that came were more than she could handle.

  Briar cried, heavy sobs wracking her small frame. All of the pain, confusion, change she had gone through finally flooding out to the sounds of a car dealership commercial. She was all at once distressed and soothed.

  He snatched the radio from her hands, placing it down on the far end of the cabin in a blur of motion that reminded her just how fast he can be.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. He embraced her. She spilled tears onto the soft skin of his shoulder. It took her a moment to stop the flood of emotions.

  “No, I’m sorry,” she said. She pulled away enough to wipe her face on her shirt. She cringed at the damp trail she left behind on his skin. “Everything is fine.”

  He placed her at arms length, looking over her face as if checking for signs of emotion. “I disagree,” he said cautiously.

  Actual music began to flicker in and out across the cabin. It was hard to make out the exact songs as they played, but the melody was enough. Briar started humming along, swaying softly. She sang a few notes of what she thought the song might be.

  He pulled her up to stand, supporting her weight with his arms. Before she could react they were swaying to the melody. He leaned in, breath hot on her ear. He sang in that same strange language.

  The cabin was full of bright lights, bright sounds. They collapse on the bed. Despite the chill in the air they are warm and sweaty. He leaned over her until she could feel the weight of him surrounding her.

  She could feel him between her legs. She tried to let go and enjoy herself but there was something holding her back. It had been days since they had last visited the creek. She could smell herself beneath the layers of clothes. Despite her knowing he truly would not care did not stop her from caring. She knew where this night was going and she would be damned if it would be ruined by this.

  “Let’s go take a bath,” she blurted out against his neck.

  “Now?” He was breathless.

  She nodded. As quickly as he could, he stood up and swept her into his arms. Clearly he wanted to get back to other activities. She laughed in surprise. All her previous fears had melted away.

  They step out into the dusky night. The moment her head cleared the doorway he rushed off into the trees. She could feel the rush of wind on her cheeks as he ran her through the forest at full speed. Every few feet he would suddenly turn, dodging trees Briar could not see.

  What would usually take at least fifteen minutes took only two. He did not seem fazed by the exertion, but Briar was panting. He laid her down on the shore, where she eagerly removed her clothes. He did nothing to hide his staring.

  This time he does not straddle her in the shallows. She tried to pretend she wasn't disappointed. He instead carried her further downstream until they reached a smooth rock jutting out from the shallows. He placed her in the water with her leg up on the rock. It is shallow enough here that she can rest along the bottom and wash herself without drowning.

  As she laid there he knelt in front of her, staring. There was power in this moment. Briar decided what he saw, what was enjoyed. She was feeling confident in her skin. Her body was battered, broken, bruised and malnourished. And yet, here she was, happy.

  He reached out a tentative hand to touch her. She nodded, closing her eyes. They explored each other in the shallows, searching hands, searching mouths. At that moment they were just a coup
le of animals congregating in the wild. As long as she kept her eyes closed they were indistinguishable from the woodswalkers they saw the other night.

  She looked out at the forest, seeing all of the glowing eyes held within it. After weeks of silence and isolation there was now an audience. She pulled away for a moment, breathing heavily.

  She gently pulled his lips off her neck. “They are watching.” She whispered, spellbound by their stares.

  There was no way of knowing what creatures the eyes belonged to in the dark. Some seemed incredibly tall while others were mere specks in the underbrush.

  “Fuck them,” he said, breath hot against her ear.

  She had never heard him speak like that before. It was very human. She pulled his head away from her neck. He was panting openly, trying not to look at her directly. Waves of nervous energy roll off of him. He finally met her eyes. She peered deep into the glow of his pupils. She was there, reflected in his second soul.

  She nodded. He nodded back. But he made no move to continue. She can feel his arms shaking around her. He tried to look away, but she pulled him closer.

  She reached her hand down between them to grasp him. Despite him being nude almost every moment they had spent together, this was her first time acknowledging its existence. He held her broken leg against himself, taking care to keep it above the water.

  She paused for a moment, some part of her training telling her to get a condom out of the bedside table. But there was no bed, there was no table. The closest store was a half days trip. Briar would have refused, would have done the responsible thing. But Briar was dead, as far as the world was concerned.

  He moaned softly against her neck. There was something about the combination of the cold water riding up her sides and the heat of him above her that drove her body wild. She felt feverish in her singular skin.

  Briar bit softly at the meat of his shoulder, suppressing a moan. It was enough to be fucking in the woods, in front of a bunch of mythical creatures, and all without a condom. She didn’t want to be loud.