Pluck (The Woodswalker Novels)

by Emilia S. Morrow

  She groaned in frustration. He moved to slide off of her slick body. Briar holds him there, unwilling to let the moment end just yet. It was the kind of sex that was just good enough to get her frustrated and needy. He placed one final kiss across her collar bone before flopping against the shallow water.

  The eyes scattered like shooting stars against the pitch black of the opposite shore. Show must be over, Briar thought. He settled his head against her breast. She inhaled the strange musk coming off of his thick dark hair. It all felt like a strange initiation into his world.

  Instead of a Berry, a Thorn

  As the fog rolled down to coat the clearing it drew with it a bitter wind that slowed anyone who dared go out in it. Briar raided the clothing pile, adding layer after layer of thick wool until she stopped the chatter in her teeth. He refused to leave his feathers until she picked out some clothes for him to crawl into.

  He left her in the cabin, leaving with the promise of further warmth. Briar laid down in comfort, a small smile on her face. There was a tentative sort of life flitting around her mind. A life of peace, comfort, and sexual deviancy.

  He walked back into the cabin, his hands stained dark with soil. There was a question in her eyes, but she did not speak it. The cold had stolen her voice as well, a hushed world demanded hushed thoughts. He led her slowly out into the clearing and around the dim cabin, leading the way with a swaying lantern.

  The fog was so dense she could not bear to walk through it. There was something about the spindly trees emerging in front of them that set her on edge. He kneeled down, letting her climb his back to ride the rest of the way.

  A ring of rocks emerged from the fog before them, thick with fallen sticks and bits of log. He let her down carefully a few feet from it. Through the silencing fog she could hear the sharp flick of a lighter in the air. After a few minutes of struggle the damp wood is alight. Briar was impressed.

  The only fires Briar and Aster could manage were full of chemical logs, lighter fluid, and matches. They loved the woods, they loved the camping. No one said they were particularly skilled with it. There was still a struggle to put up their tent every year.

  The fire grew ever stronger, combatting the thick fog until there was a pocket of warmth around them. The fog gave the fire a wide berth, waiting on the edges to swallow them whole if it were to be extinguished. Angry crackles spat embers into the air.

  She could no longer see anything around her, only the dazzling bright of the fire. She felt like she was back to camping. If only they had some marshmallows. A smile danced on her lips. They sat side by side, leaning against a grand tree.

  “Did your parents take you camping?” he asked, his voice as light as the fog.

  Briar was surprised. He barely ever wanted to know about her life before. Before… The word swirled through her thoughts, picking up scattered memories along the way.

  “No. Well, once I guess.” She let out a rush of air. He seemed to be waiting for a story.

  “Why didn’t your parents take you after that?” he asked.

  “There was a long family tradition of going camping on my dad's side. Aster went every year with her dad. I was always so jealous. I was maybe eight when I had harassed them enough that they would agree to take me and my brother,” Briar said. “They fought the entire time. I don’t really remember about what.”

  “I don’t understand,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” She asked.

  “If they don’t like each other why are they mates?” He asked.

  “Married,” she corrected.

  She was glad to get confirmation that he did in fact like her, at least. It was difficult sometimes to tell where his thoughts were heading.

  “Married.” He agreed.

  “They had kids. They couldn’t just split.” She said like she had said many times before. He still doesn’t seem to understand. Briar supposed she didn’t either. A log slipped from the pile, sending a wave of embers into the air around them.

  “When I was a nestling , our home was near one of the popular trails.” He said. “Seeing all of these happy families go by…” He trailed off.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I guess I just thought that’s how it usually was,” he said.

  She couldn’t help but laugh. He did not find it funny. She became self-conscious under his pitying gaze. Where she was from it wasn’t uncommon to have a rough home life. Briar was grateful for food, isolation, and her physical safety. Lots of kids didn’t even get that.

  “I’m sorry you didn’t have that,” he said seriously.

  She warmed under his concerned gaze. She wanted something, anything to turn his gaze elsewhere.

  “What is your family like?” Briar asked. Her eyes were trained on the fire in front of them. She could see him shift out of the corner of her eye.

  “We don’t have different families like you do,” he said. “My mother laid me. My parents fed me until I could fly. I left. They laid another egg.”

  He tried to do what he always did, shrug it off as species differences. Only this time, Briar got a peek underneath. His full lips parted in a quiet grimace when he thought she wasn’t looking. She nuzzled deeper into his side. His arms tighten around her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, kissing a trail down his neck.

  “It’s just how it is. We have many children but they leave and don’t come back. We have a mate and they are with us for the rest of our lives. I don’t blame them.”

  She held closer to him all the same. The rest of our lives, she thought. It hardly seemed real. Was she his mate now? Is that what was expected of her?

  “Still,” she whispered.

  He untangled himself from her just enough to show his disinterest in furthering that line of thought.

  “But you’ve been here more than just that one time, right?” he asked.

  “After that I would go with Aster’s side of the family,” she said.

  He leaned in closer to her. His brilliant eyes seemed brighter with interest. Briar was just grateful for the change in topic.

  “Aster was related to you?” he asked.

  “She is my cousin, on my father’s side.” Briar said. “I have a few more cousins on my moms side but we were never really close.”

  He shifted away, untangling his arms from hers. “Do you miss them? Your parents?” he asked. He would not meet her eye.

  “No.” She said before she has time to think. “I mean, I guess I haven’t really absorbed the whole forever thing yet.”

  She wondered if she would ever grow to miss them. Guilt, she had plenty of. Longing? Definitely in short supply.

  His posture softened, as if he had let out a breath he was holding. Relief rolled off him in waves. Briar pretended not to notice. What if she did care? What if she resented the upheaval of her life? They sat in silence, absorbing the warmth around them.

  “We won’t be like them,” he whispered, so faintly she wasn’t entirely sure she hadn’t imagined it.

  ***

  They attempted to take a bath while the color was still in the sky. He drank her in the better light. She self consciously covered her breasts with one arm while using the other to wash herself with the icy cold water.

  “I’ve been wondering. How good is your vision?” She asked. “Do you see in the dark like you can in your other skin? Or can you see like me?”

  He laughed. “My eyesight is just as good as yours in this body.” His eyes trailed down her shivering frame. “So I don’t get such a good view.”

  “Good,” she said, casting awkward glances at her goosebump covered flesh. The body she left on the trip with was not the body she currently possessed. It was as if she did have a second skin, but it was just an uglier version of herself.

  “We won’t be able to bathe here much longer,” she commented. “I’m going to freeze my toes off.”

  The water was unreasonably cold, sending them to shore long before they had fully s
ubmerged themselves. They cover themselves in all of their layers, shivering on the precipice between water and land. Briar hated the feeling of wet skin on clothing. Briar also hated the idea of frostbite, so she had to make compromises sometimes.

  “How would you like to go berry picking with me?” he asked, placing a hand on the small of her back. She melted at the warmth of his touch. She tried to go back the way they came, but he did not follow.

  “Now?” she asked. She longed to go back to the warmth of their bed.

  “Yeah, so I don’t have to leave you to go hunting,” he said.

  She kind of hoped he would. She was used to her alone time.

  He swept her up in his arms. His skin was still wet against her clothes. He walked her over the creek and through the woods on the other side. The trees here were thicker, harder to manage. They came across an area full of short bushes. In the dark they didn’t look like much to Briar. He placed her back on her feet just in front of the foliage.

  She leaned in closer, but it all looked like a bundle of leaves in the dark. She reached a tentative hand out to feel around. Instead of finding a berry she found a thorn.

  “Oh yeah, be careful with the thorns.” he said, laughter in his voice. Briar’s mood turned sour.

  “I can’t see anything,” she complained, holding her hand up to her face. She can vaguely see the blood dark against her flesh.

  “If you wait here I can go get you a lantern,” he offered, his eyes glow cutting through the gloom. She does not savor being in the middle of the forest alone, but she won’t get anything done like this.

  “Hurry back.” She called.

  He was already flying off. She hoped it wouldn't be long. Without him there the forest was so quiet she could hear her pulse in her ears. Her body was tense, fight or flight evident in her stance. She slowly scanned the forest.

  A loud caw sounded from behind her. Briar jumped. Soon the caw was joined by louder responses. Her skin crawled at the sound.

  “Hello,” the musty voice called from a distance.

  It was much the same as she had heard it before. Briar stumbled in the direction of the sound until she found the source. In the gloom she could make out a circle of writhing, angry darkness. Crows, she realized from their voices.

  “Hello,” the voice called.

  In the center of the circle were two crows locked in battle. In the deep moonlight she could barely make out the bodies, but the sound of ruffled feathers and angry screeches was enough.

  The circle parted as she approached, birds looking up at her as she moved closer and closer to the fighting pair.

  “No. Stop that,” she said in a tone not unlike someone shaming a dog for eating garbage.

  The crows in the circle stopped cawing. But the crows in the center continued their attack. From what she could see, the fight would be over soon. The victim let out more pitiful caws as it attempted to fight off the crowd.

  Briar decided in that moment to interfere. She could not tell which crow was which. She kneeled down in front of them, sticking her hands between the two and flapping her fingers about. Her fingers were assaulted by beak and talon until in unison all of the crows took to the air at once.

  The victim crow laid flat on it’s back, chest heaving with effort. Briar offered a hand, which it gladly clung to. With it’s dark talons against her pale flesh she could see it’s missing talon again. It was the same bird who stole from him. She shared a secret smile at this.

  “Hello,” it repeated. Gratitude, maybe.

  “Hello,” Briar replied. The crow gave her one soft peck at her thumb before it flew clumsily into the darkness.

  Briar stumbled back over to where she hoped the berry patch was, sitting down on thorns and sticky juices. Her hands were sore from breaking up the attack. She hoped he would not notice the marks. He didn’t seem too keen on the crows before. He probably wouldn’t agree with her saving the scavenger.

  The lanterns light bobbed amongst the trees.

  They began picking through the thorny bushes. Every once in a while he would look up at her with such admiration she could not focus. Before long they had more berries than she could eat in days.

  Briar wondered why he took so long to pick them before.

  By the time they were done their hands were coated in sticky juices. In the harsh glow of the lantern they looked bruised. Each of her fingers had little pinpricks of dried blood. Even with the light she could not avoid the thorns.

  “We probably should have done this, then the bath,” she said, licking her fingers.

  She took her sweater off to use as a basket, placing all the berries she could fit inside. Dark stains already soaking through the material. They walked back to the cabin, spilling berries all along the way.

  Thump Thump Thump

  The rotted porch provided the bare minimum of protection from the high winds blowing down the mountain. He insisted on eating outside despite the desperate way they hid beneath the quilt to eat without their hair flying into their mouth.

  “A storm must be coming,” he said against her ear.

  Almost as if responding to his comment the wind changed direction just enough to quiet the rattling of the trees. Out in the distance she saw a strange shape shimmer in the darkness. On the very edge of her hearing she could almost sense the footsteps. Whatever it was, animal or dream she could not be sure. She turned to look at him, wondering if he was aware of it.

  His eyes jerked towards the swaying treeline, narrowing to slits. Briar moved to get a better look, but as she made the wood underneath her creak his hand went out to stop her. She shifted her eyes to him, a question in their depths.

  Another soft, subtle noise from the forest in response. She can barely hear anything, but whatever it was infuriated him. Briar shrank away as he imploded into his feathers, racing off into the thick veil of darkness surrounding them.

  She waited, each moment accentuated by the scream of her heartbeat in her ears.

  What is in the forest? Thump.

  What is he going to do with it? Thump.

  Was that the reason Pepper saw him running through the woods before? Thump.

  His lanky form came back into the lighter side of the clearing. He was covered in a thin layer of glossy sweat. Briar let out a loud breath she didn’t know she was holding in. He was feral, pure energy rolling off of him.

  “Let’s go take a bath,” he said, his breath coming from his flaring nostrils like a panicked horse.

  Briar turned to look past him, to the forest. It held nothing but silence and still leaves for her. She did not want to stay, if he insisted on leaving.

  She stood on careful legs, grabbing her crutches from inside before meeting him back on the steps. He seemed impatient, looking back over his shoulder at the forest. She hastened her pace to match his.

  They make their way through the now familiar forest between the clearings and their patch of creek. Her eyes were too weak to pick up the changes in the forest around her. She instead focused on the sounds, straining her ears to pick something up.

  When they arrived she tried to still the beating of her heart. At least here the moonlight reached them and she can see more of her surroundings. She had visited the creek long enough to feel safe there in the shallows.

  She slowly removed her clothes, feeling the strength in her limbs that had not been there before. When she turned around she expected him to be there, watching her as he commonly did. To her disappointment the shore she turned to was empty.

  He had left her.

  She closed her eyes, trying to relax herself. She was safe here. This creek was familiar to her. No matter how many motivational quotes she could think of she still felt she needed him there. It was pathetic, she thought.

  She slowly waded out to the shallows, keeping her leg up out of the water. By the time she was done washing up he will be back, she tried to tell herself. So Briar took her time, making sure to scrub every inch of her skin with care. The longer s
he took the more likely she would be right.

  A screech sounds above her, surprising her enough that she was knocked off balance, landing flat on her back. The water crawled up her sides, sending shivers up her chest. She gasped, watching the small figures dance in the air above her. Bats, she realized. They dove through the air after insects before disappearing into the void of darkness further up the stream.

  Briar crawled back onto the shore, shivering in the cold. She wanted to go back into the cabin, but the forest between them scarred her greatly. Whoever or whatever made him that concerned she would not want to meet. The wind whipped her damp hair against her tense shoulders.

  So she waited, not wanting to stay and not wanting to go. She wished she could fly above the trees. Her skin dripped onto the dark stones of the shore, sending shivers down her spine. Her hands roved across her damp fresh, willing it to do more than raise goosebumps.

  She was entirely dry by the time his footsteps crunched their way down their winding path to the creek. He was clothed again, thick layers covering where they once were not. He paused at the treeline, his lips parting silently as he took her in shivering form. He rushed to her side, arms reaching out to envelope her in his warmth.

  They stumble onto the shore, eager to throw themselves into soft lips and forgotten worries. Briar lifted his shirt off in one swift motion, catching him off guard. He pulled away from her lips, attempting to get his shirt back. As he shifted away from her she can see why.

  Shallow scratches crawled their way across his chest, interwoven with bite marks. They were fresh, broken skin still weeping. She pulled away further, her brows raised. He carefully pulled his shirt back down.

  Briar apologized with a kiss. Shaking hands fumbled to pull off straining pants. It felt almost normal, contending with clothing. Then her lover opened his eyes, and she remembered just what she was dealing with.

  His movements were more confident this time. He groaned as he pressed his chest against hers. Despite the pain, he could not help but get closer. Despite the questions left unasked, she could not help but let him.