by Lee Colgin
He happened to be glancing in the direction of the trail that led to Toby’s village when the wolf shifter rounded the bend. Arlo perked up at the sight of him, a swirl of joyful anticipation rising in his chest, but Toby’s shoulders hung low and his normally bouncy gate had vanished. Arlo set his broom aside and left the bridge to meet him half way.
They’d gotten to know each other as Arlo healed from his injured ankle. Toby had checked in often until Arlo could look after things himself again, then the visits dwindled to nothing. He figured Toby was just busy, but in the back of his mind, he wondered if he’d done something wrong.
“Hello,” said Arlo, shuffling up to Toby who stopped in the middle of the path.
Toby stared up at him, emerald eyes clouded with sadness. “Hello.”
Arlo would ask what was wrong, but didn’t want to pry. Instead he said, “I’ve missed you.” Which, though true, didn’t seem the right thing to say at all. If it bothered Toby, Arlo couldn’t tell.
“I’ve missed you, too.” Toby sighed. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stay long. I need to get to Fern Pack.”
“Is everything…well,” Arlo stumbled over the question, “That is, are you all right?”
Toby stared somewhere over Arlo’s shoulder. The sky boasted an array of white puffy clouds, maybe he was watching those.
“I think if I talk about it too much, I will cry. I should probably go.”
Arlo didn’t want him to cry. He stepped aside so Toby could pass.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” Toby perked up, a smile curving his lips despite his mood. “I’ve brought you a tribute.”
“You didn’t have to,” said Arlo, and he meant it, but at the same time a spark of excitement tingled in his belly. He loved tributes. He couldn’t help it.
“Thank you for saying so, but I want you to have these.” Toby dug in his pocket then held a closed fist out to Arlo. “Remember the game I told you about? Fivestones?”
Arlo opened his hand beneath Toby’s, and five rounded stones tumbled into his palm. He took a closer look. Each about the size of an acorn, they were pretty little things. Grey and white mottled rocks, no two the same, and warm from being carried in Toby’s pocket. Arlo loved them instantly.
“Those were my grandfather’s. He chose the stones from the river that flows beneath your bridge when he was a boy. I picked the best five. He had loads.”
Arlo would treasure them. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I will teach you how to play when I return.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes. Have a good day, Arlo.” Toby headed for the bridge.
Arlo—torn between watching him leave and staring at the five little prizes in his palm—clenched his fingers around the stones and ran after Toby while he still could, catching up to him on the bridge. Arlo knew what it was like to be sad and have no one to talk to.
“I’m sorry you’re having a hard day.” Arlo opened his arms tentatively. “If you want to talk about it later, I’ll listen.”
Toby sank into the embrace with a long exhale. He tucked his head under Arlo’s chin and wrapped his arms around his waist.
Arlo felt the soft strands of ebony hair against his throat, the rise and fall of Toby’s chest as he breathed, and the warmth of skin beneath his soft, cotton shirt. Knowing Toby was sad made him sad too. He gave the wolf shifter a comforting pat on the back.
“Thanks.” Toby’s voice came out muffled from where he spoke into Arlo’s chest. “I should go.”
“Travel safe.” Arlo released him.
Toby left the bridge and headed on to Fern Pack, leaving Arlo wondering what had happened to steal away his joy.
Arlo spent most of the day battling pollen and guarding his bridge. A water nymph swam beneath it, but Arlo didn’t demand tribute from those who crossed below, only those who crossed above. Her name was Liosa. She’d said hello, tossed up a shell in trade for a particularly lovely leaf he’d found, and went on her way.
Normally Arlo would have been enchanted by the exchange, but his thoughts wandered back to Toby. He pulled the stones from his pocket and turned them over in his hand, memorizing the shape of each one. Such a thoughtful gift from a man who’d known many games as a child to a troll who’d known none. Arlo wished for a big family like Toby’s. He would have liked seven siblings to talk to.
That evening, having run out of things to do, Arlo sat on the plush, mossy bank of the river and watched the clouds float along as day gave way to night. Bats fluttered by, turning pirouettes in the sky and catching bugs. Though Arlo usually enjoyed their performance, tonight he found himself preoccupied.
When Toby finally appeared in the distance, Arlo scrabbled to his feet and squinted to see him better. Did he look happier? Had the bounce returned to his step?
As Toby drew close, Arlo decided both answers were no. Toby’s tired eyes were too puffy, and his steps too lumbering for him to be in his usual bright mood. He walked right up to Arlo without saying a thing. Arlo opened his arms just in time for Toby to collapse into them.
“Oh no,” said Arlo, stroking his slender back. “What’s happened?”
“My grandfather died yesterday, and I had to bring the news to my sister. She didn’t have a chance to say goodbye.”
Arlo held him tighter. “I’m so sorry.”
“He’s been sick.” Toby sniffled into Arlo’s shirt. “I’ve been taking care of him, and I’d thought he would get better up until the moment he…didn’t.”
Toby’s shoulders shook, and hushed whimpers were smothered against Arlo’s bulk. They stood together as the night air cooled and dew formed and glistened on each blade of grass. When Toby stilled then slowly leaned back, Arlo wondered what the right thing to say would be in this situation. Then he decided not to say anything at all. Instead he kissed the crown of Toby’s head, gave his slight shoulders a comforting squeeze, and waited to see what Toby would need next.
Arlo had lost everyone he’d ever cared about when he left home to guard his own bridge, but none of them had died. He could only imagine how Toby must feel.
Toby wiped his eyes with his sleeve and raised his gaze to Arlo’s. Though sadness lingered in the green sea of his irises, Toby was calm and his breath came steadily.
“I’ve gotten your shirt all wet.” Toby pressed his hand to the damp spot on Arlo’s chest.
Arlo glanced at his shirt. He could feel the tears through the fabric. “That’s all right. I don’t mind.”
“I feel a bit better now,” said Toby, his voice growing stronger.
Arlo released the soft grip he had on Toby’s shoulders. “Good.”
“My sister asked after you. I told her you wouldn’t demand a tribute, but she packed us sandwiches anyway.” Toby swung his pack off and opened the flap to rummage inside. “I think I should eat. I’m suddenly very hungry.”
Arlo agreed. Toby looked as if a stray breeze might knock him over. “I will fetch a blanket. We can sit on the riverbank.”
He chose an older quilt from his collection and spread it for the two of them to sit. They ate ham and cheese on sourdough bread to the sound of the rushing rapids. When every crumb had been devoured, Toby shuffled closer and leaned against Arlo’s side.
“I’m sorry you lost your grandfather. Would you like to tell me about him?” Arlo sensed Toby was ready to share.
“Yes. I think I would like that very much.”
Arlo put his arm around Toby’s shoulders and listened as the stories flowed much like the rippling waters of the river before them. Arlo had never met his own grandfather, of course, the man had his own bridge to guard and couldn’t leave his post. Toby’s stories made Arlo wonder why guarding a bridge was more important than watching your family grow, but who was Arlo to question such things?
Sometime later—Arlo didn’t know how long, and he didn’t much care—Toby fell asleep with his head in Arlo’s lap. Arlo stroked his satin black hair and gazed at the stars, but they couldn’t answer his
questions either.
Chapter Four
JUNE
Toby
Running ahead as fast as two legs would carry him, Toby raced to the Elk River Bridge. More than ever, he wished he could gallop on all four, but had to settle for just the two.
“Arlo!” he called gleefully. “Wake up, sleepyhead. My family is coming!”
Toby jumped from the bridge, grabbing the familiar rail to swing himself beneath and tug Arlo out of bed himself if he had to.
The troll grumbled something about a tribute as he emerged from his den. His copper hair flung every which way, his eyes were half-lidded, and his torso was bare from the waist up.
Toby’s mouth hung open. Arlo straight from bed was a sight he’d commit to memory so he’d have the pleasure of recalling it anytime he wished. Broad shoulders thick with muscle stretched over meaty biceps and powerful forearms. Toby remembered how lovely those arms felt around him, but all the smooth, granite skin on display—that was new. Rounded pectorals flexed under a dusting of reddish-brown hair. Purple nipples pebbled to erect nubs begging to be touched. And Toby knew—in the same way he knew the sky was blue or wolves howled at the full moon—Arlo’s pooch of a belly would be perfect for cuddling.
Toby forced his mouth closed and his gaze up. “Hello, Arlo,” he squeaked, his voice an octave higher than usual, which he fixed with a cough. “Have I woken you?”
“G’morning,” grumbled Arlo, wiping sleep from his eyes with his palms.
A chuckle escaped Toby’s lips. “You aren’t a morning person, huh?”
Arlo’s furry, orange brows rose. “That obvious?”
“Maybe a little.” Toby wanted to reach up and smooth Arlo’s hair into place for him. It had gotten longer since they’d met, hanging nearly to his chin now. He chickened out, rocking back on his heels, still enjoying the sight of Arlo’s naked chest. His family, however, would probably prefer to meet him fully clothed.
Arlo yawned and stretched his back, unconcerned.
“Did you hear me before? My family is on their way. They’re right behind me, all of them and the rest of the pack too, headed to Fern Village for the summer solstice festival.”
That got Arlo’s attention. His stood straighter and his eyes widened. “Oh! That’s today? Right, that’s today. Oh dear. Let me just—”
“Yes, do get dressed. They’ll be here soon, but don’t be nervous. Everyone is eager to meet you.”
“Eager? Oh, moonbugs!” Arlo stumbled back into his den. Toby meant to wait outside, but the troll called for him. “Quick, help me choose what to wear.”
Following along, Toby hid another chuckle. “But Arlo, you have only grey shirts. I’d say, wear one of them.”
Arlo held up two identical looking garments. “But which?”
Toby pointed to the one on the right. “That one.” He took a deep breath, loving the fresh pine smell of Arlo’s den.
The troll shuffled into the shirt, arms flailing. Only his head poked out. “What if they don’t like me?”
“They will.” Toby grabbed the edge of the shirt and pulled it down, the backs of his fingers skimming Arlo’s tummy.
Arlo blinked. They gazed at each other.
Footsteps echoed overhead.
“That’s them.” Toby took Arlo’s hand and tugged. “Come on!”
They clambered up onto the bridge together, Toby first and Arlo on his heels, where half the wolf pack had gathered to pay tribute. The youngest and oldest of the bunch were in their wolf forms to make the journey easier. The healthy adults remained on two legs and carried packs with water and snacks for the trip. Behind them, others began to file in, nearly sixty in total, all headed for their traditional summer celebration with the Fern Pack.
Toby’s mother, their pack’s alpha-wolf, stood front and center, her long black hair hanging in waves around her slim waist. She wore a flowing, green dress, the color of magnolia leaves, which brought out her hunter green eyes. Toby had inherited her looks down to their matching dimpled cheeks, and he was glad of it. His mother was beautiful, and the crinkled lines around her eyes only enhanced her charm. Her silent smile reminded Toby she expected something.
Toby elbowed Arlo in the side and yell-whispered. “Go on. Do your thing.”
“What? Oh…” The confusion on Arlo’s face cleared as he gave a horrifying growl and bellowed, “Who dares cross Arlo’s bridge? What tribute do they bring for safe passage? Speak now or turn back, or else!”
“Good job,” said Toby with a proud grin, for Arlo was fearsome indeed.
“My name is Regina of River Pack, and I’ve brought my family to cross your mighty bridge today. For a tribute worthy of Arlo the Troll, Guardian of the Elk River Bridge, we have brought you a basket of treats.”
Toby’s cousin Eliza poked her head around his mother’s shoulder and stepped forward to hand off the gift. Toby had helped select the items inside. Deer jerky, drawings from the children, sweet-candied nuts, a collection of the tiniest of pinecones, and a smattering of fresh wildflowers picked along the way. He hoped it would please Arlo and bring him joy.
Arlo took the basket gently and returned Eliza’s polite curtsy with an awkward bow. “Thank you, miss,” he rumbled.
Eliza giggled and backed away. Toby peered through his lashes to inspect Arlo’s face. The troll struggled to contain his delight as his gaze roamed the contents, eyes reflecting the grin his lips held back.
Arlo cleared his throat and grunted. “I proclaim this tribute worthy. You may pass!”
Toby’s pack, the ones currently without snouts or tails, cheered. The wolves yipped and howled, the younger pups dancing around Toby and Arlo’s feet. Arlo stood very still, but an indulgent smile bloomed for the children.
“I especially like the drawings,” said Arlo, and Toby’s nephew Arthur let out a chorus of happy barks for he was the aspiring young artist among the bunch.
Regina approached, leaning in to take Toby’s elbow. “I’ve heard an awful lot about you since Christmas, Arlo. It’s wonderful to finally make your acquaintance.”
Arlo’s cheeks took on a pretty purple blush under his dark freckles. “My pleasure, ma’am.”
Toby’s brother Timothy joined them while the rest of the pack made their way across the bridge. “I hear I must play you at Fivestones. Are you as good as Toby says?”
Arlo gave a half shrug. “I don’t know. I’ve only played Toby, and well,” Arlo lowered his voice, “he isn’t very hard to beat.”
Timothy laughed a great belly laugh.
“Hey!” Toby piped up. “I taught you to play!”
“Sorry, sorry,” said Arlo though he didn’t look it at all. He looked rather pleased with himself. “You have been a great teacher is what I meant.”
“Of course,” said Toby, “and you have been an excellent student. I am sure you’ll give Timothy a good match.”
“When we get back then?” asked Timothy.
“You’re on,” said Arlo.
“I wouldn’t place any bets if I were you,” warned Regina with a warm laugh. “Timothy has been known to take his brothers and sisters for their share of dessert on several notable occasions.”
“I had to give him the slice of cake with the most frosting on my own birthday once,” said Toby.
Timothy gave his brother a playful shove. “Hey, I shared it with you!”
Toby shoved him back. “Only because mom made you.”
“Boys!” Regina broke in, chin tilted, an amused expression on her face. “Stop showing off for Arlo. He has better things to do than watch you scuffle.”
“Sorry, mom,” they said in practiced unison.
Regina ignored them, casting an indulgent smile to Arlo. “Brothers.” She rolled her eyes. “They’ve bickered like this since Timothy taught Toby to say the word no.”
“Blaming me, mother? Really,” Timothy huffed.
Regina gave a put-upon sigh. “We must be going, dear, but we’ll make sure to bring you something
from the festival on our way home.”
“You don’t have to,” said Arlo, but Regina wouldn’t have it.
“Of course we must. You’ve clearly done an excellent job of maintaining this bridge,” she gestured to the improvements Arlo had made: stone lined walkways leading up to each side, flowers transplanted at the entrance, and slates crisscrossed beneath the lowest rail for safety.
Toby swelled with pride for his friend’s achievements. “The flowers are a nice touch.”
The purple blush barely had time to leave Arlo’s cheeks before staging its return. “Thank you.”
“Come along,” said Regina to Timothy. “Goodbye, Arlo, we’ll see you this evening. Toby, don’t lag too far behind.” Toby’s family hurried along to catch up with the others.
When they were alone, Toby caught Arlo’s gaze and grinned. “I told you they would like you.”
“I like them,” said Arlo. He pulled a daisy from the bouquet in his basket, then set the tribute down. “Come here.”
Toby stepped closer and looked up, his breath caught in his chest. Arlo’s fond gaze felt heavy in a way that warmed his stomach and sent tingles up his spine. The troll reached forward and swept Toby’s hair behind his ear. He tucked the delicate flower there as well. His fingers lingered, then trailed down Toby’s throat leaving a blazing line of sensitivity in their wake. Toby would have swayed on his feet if Arlo hadn’t broken the spell by speaking.
“Your family is kind. You are lucky.”
“I am,” Toby agreed, but he didn’t want to think of his mother and brother right now, not when Arlo stood so close…not when his slate-grey lips parted just so, or his cornflower-blue eyes had darkened to sapphire. “Arlo,” Toby whispered.
Arlo jolted backward, breaking the spell, his face a shade of violet Toby found painfully alluring.
“You’d better git,” said Arlo, his eyes on the trail. “You’ll have to skedaddle to catch the rest of ’em.”