A Bridge to Love

by Lee Colgin

  Toby wrangled his disappointment with a sharp sigh. “Right.”

  “Have fun at the festival.” Arlo lifted a hand to wave goodbye.

  Toby wanted to snatch his hand from the air and put it back on his throat, instead, he said, “Thanks, Arlo. Have a good day,” and went to join the others.

  He cast a glance over his shoulder to find Arlo hadn’t budged from his spot. The troll stared after Toby with an expression of longing. Toby wished Arlo would leave his bridge for the day and come with them, but he knew the troll would not budge from his duty.

  How could he give Arlo what he really seemed to want—something more than endless trinkets of tribute—while letting him stay true to his instincts? The impossible task begged for a solution, but as Toby’s thoughts spun round his head, a useful idea failed to surface.

  Instead he imagined what it would be like to kiss Arlo’s plump, grey lips. This time Toby had been certain Arlo wanted to kiss him too. He spent the rest of the journey to Fern Pack daydreaming, until his little nieces demanded his attention instead.

  “No, Sophie, Arlo would not like one of your boogies as tribute. You’ll have to think of something else.”

  Chapter Five

  AUGUST

  Arlo

  The days had grown long and hot, and Arlo spent most of his time under the shade of a hornbeam tree with his feet in the river to cool down. His bridge towered over the rushing waters. Arlo considered its magnificence with a mixture of pride and annoyance. He loved the Elk River Bridge along with his cozy den below. The soothing sound of the current lulled him to sleep each night and greeted him each morning. But he longed for more than his duty. His curiosity had grown from a tiny pebble to a bouncing boulder tumbling in his gut. A desire stirred to branch out. Would he ever see for himself what lay around the bend in the trail?

  Toby’s cheerful call tugged him from his reverie and put a spring in his step as he bounded up the riverbank to greet him.

  “Arlo, I have good news!” Toby skittered to a halt on the grassy meadow narrowly avoiding crashing into him.

  “Tell me.” Arlo chuckled as he looked Toby over. The wolf shifter had clearly run all the way here. His breaths came in panting huffs, sweat glistened on his forehead, and his face flushed pink from exertion. The happy grin was contagious, and his green eyes sparkled with mirth.

  “Oh dear, but I’ve been rude,” said Toby. “First, how are you? It is good to see you.”

  “I’m well and glad to see you too, though you should really catch your breath. You look as if you outran a banshee to get here.”

  Toby ran his fingers through his long, dark hair self-consciously, smoothing it in place and making Arlo long to run his hands over the silky strands. Toby’s bare arms flexed with the movement. His chest still rose and fell heavily, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  “Sorry to report there were no banshees involved. I ran because I couldn’t wait to tell you. It’s two things actually. Which do you want first? Your tribute or my good news?”

  “Your good news, of course. You know you don’t need to give tribute. I’m happy just to have you visit.”

  “Oh, but today I need to cross! You see I must also bring the news to my sister and Fern Pack.”

  “All right then, out with it. I’m dying to know.”

  “Timothy’s mate Surry has announced she’s pregnant again! There will be a new baby next spring. Isn’t it wonderful?”

  Caught up in Toby’s jovial mood and good news, Arlo swept the wolf shifter into his arms for a hug. He spun them in circle before setting Toby back on his feet and releasing him.

  Clinging to Arlo’s shoulders, this sent Toby into a fit of giggles. “I’m so happy for them. Timothy has always wanted his children to have lots of brothers and sisters like we did when we were little.”

  “They’re lucky to have you as an uncle,” said Arlo.

  “Someone must teach them proper handstands.” Toby gave Arlo’s shoulder a squeeze before letting them go. “I suppose it will be me.”

  Arlo remembered his injured ankle. “Well it definitely won’t be me.”

  “No, dear Arlo, you should stay on your feet I think.” Toby reached into his pocket and pulled out a gift wrapped in maple leaves and tied with straw. “I’m excited about this as well. My auntie has made it for you at my request. It’s taken her ages, so I hope you like it.”

  Whatever the trinket was, Arlo knew he would love it as he had loved everything Toby had brought him thus far. He took the delicate package with care into eager fingers and untied the straw. The leaves unfolded to reveal a statue of a wolf carved from wood. His jaw dropped as he stared at the marvelously detailed creation.

  A brown wolf sat on his haunches, his shaggy fur rippling in the wind. Chin tall and proud, a majestic expression on the canine features, the wolf posed as if for a painting.

  “It’s me,” said Toby quietly. “In my wolf form. I’d asked auntie for a wolf, you see, any old wolf, but she’s carved me because she thought you might like it. Do you like it?”

  “Of course I do.” Arlo closed his hand gently around his new treasure. Warmth blossomed in his chest.

  “Oh good. I’d thought you would, but I’m never sure.”

  “I’ll build him his own shelf as he doesn’t belong with my other tributes but deserves his own special place in my den,” said Arlo, still gaping at the tiny wooden wolf. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. And I’ll pass along your thanks to Auntie. She’ll be delighted to know you like it.”

  Overwhelmed and suddenly shy, Arlo glanced back at his bridge instead of focusing his gaze on Toby. He could look at Toby all day, and he would, just as soon as Toby left. He would admire the darling wolf carving all afternoon, in fact, but first he must get the real Toby to run along before he said something silly.

  “Off you go, then.” Arlo waved toward the trail to Fern Pack. “Hurry up. Your sister awaits, and your news will make her day.”

  “Oh…I thought, well…I could stay for tea before I go if you like. I’m pretty fast, so there’s enough time.”

  “Maybe on your way home then, eh? I’ve got loads of chores to do today.”

  Toby cocked his head to the side. “But I found you sitting idle with your feet in the water.”

  “It’s important to have clean feet before one begins their chores.”

  “Is it?”

  “Of course,” Arlo lied, ignoring the mud on his feet and hoping Toby would to.

  “If you say so.” Toby sighed. “Goodbye, Arlo, I will see you this evening.”

  “Goodbye, Toby. Thank you for the statue.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Arlo forced himself not to watch Toby leave. He didn’t want to know if he’d dampened the wolf shifter’s spirits by sending him away without the visit he’d expected. But he was overcome with sudden emotion, enough that his chest clenched and his throat went dry, for never in his life had he received a gift as special as the perfect miniature wolf he held in his palm.

  Opening his hand, Arlo glanced at his prize. A tiny little Toby with a tiny little snout and a fluffy poof of a tail. He turned the creature over to inspect it from every angle. A longing bloomed from within to see the real Toby in his wolf form. He’d never thought to ask before, but the thought consumed him now.

  What would his fur feel like under Arlo’s fingers, and would Toby even allow himself to be petted? What would he look like running on all fours, chasing a rabbit or galloping across Arlo’s bridge?

  Ignoring his chores, Arlo holed up in his den to build a place of honor for wolf-Toby. He wanted to be able to see and reach the carving from his bed, so he dug farther into the wall to make room. By the time he finished, hunger clawed at his belly and sleep beckoned. He placed the carving into its new home, grabbed an apple from the fruit dish, and settled on his bed to stare at the wolf.

  He must have fallen asleep because when he awoke, darkness ha
d set in, and the nightjars twittered their calls in the distance.

  Oh no!

  Arlo jolted upright, sending the apple core rolling off his chest and onto the floor.

  Toby would have been and gone hours ago, and Arlo had missed his chance to see him! Why hadn’t the wolf shifter woken him up? What if he hadn’t come by after all and something had happened to him? His heart seized at the thought. Arlo scrambled from his bed intending to—

  Well, he didn’t know what he intended to do. He couldn’t go check on Toby. He’d have to leave his bridge for that, and trolls never left their posts. Though he had fallen asleep early and missed Toby’s crossing, which he ought not to have done, and that had led to this, so perhaps he should leave his bridge after all. What would his mother say? She would be so disappointed in him if she knew…but she would never know because she’d never leave her own bridge so maybe—

  Arlo noticed a note pinned to his curtain, which hung down, though he was certain he’d left it up.

  Dear Arlo,

  I always thought you would snore, but you don’t. Did you know that? I couldn’t bear to wake you, all curled in your bed, but I didn’t want you to worry. The wolf looks great on its new shelf. Well done.

  See you next time,

  ~Toby

  Arlo held the note to his chest and took a deep breath. Toby was fine. He’d come and gone and surely by now was safely at home in his own bed.

  Good.

  Except Arlo didn’t feel good at all. He’d missed a visit and a chance to ask Toby to shift to his wolf form and even worse, he’d no way of knowing when his friend would be back again. And he felt bad for essentially shooing him off earlier when they could have had some time together.

  His bridge began to feel like a prison. Arlo glanced to his rack of tributes. Shiny baubles, finely shaped twigs, pinecones of all varieties, foreign coins, a necklace, the five rounded stones, and the miniature painting of a tree he’d treasured. All trinkets he loved, but trinkets nonetheless when his only friend lived round the bend, and he couldn’t go that far to see him. The tributes were only links in the chain binding him to the bridge.

  Settling heavily on his bed, Arlo plucked the little wolf from his shelf and warmed him within his palm. He curled around the tiny carving and willed himself back to sleep.

  With any luck, he’d dream of wolves racing through the forest, wild and free.

  Chapter Six

  SEPTEMBER

  Toby

  Try as he might, Toby could think of no reason to travel to Fern Pack and back, but he wanted to see Arlo, so he slung his bag over his shoulder and took off for the bridge anyway. Perhaps he’d come up with a good excuse before arriving.

  He didn’t.

  On the way, he thought about how he’d been longing to kiss Arlo for months. He vowed to gather his courage and do it. He didn’t care that Arlo was a troll and not a wolf; he cared only that no one else had ever set the butterflies in his stomach to dancing the way Arlo did. And he suspected Arlo felt the same way.

  Of course he did, Toby assured himself as he trotted along the well-worn path. Arlo would not have singled out a place of honor for Toby’s gift if he didn’t fancy him, would he? And the way Arlo looked at him, the way his eyes twinkled and his cheeks went purple, surely those reactions meant something, didn’t they?

  Toby would find out.

  He rounded the bend in the trail, his belly tingling with anticipation, and scanned the landscape. The day, which had begun cold and foggy, had warmed under the sun’s yellow rays. Dust glittered like stars caught in the beams, and the leaves had turned from the bright greens of summer to the warm oranges and reds of autumn. Days like this brought fond memories of late garden harvests and hot spiced ciders with his family.

  Toby picked up his pace and headed for the river, the soothing rush of water doing nothing to calm his nerves despite the perfect day.

  Arlo stood in the meadow on the opposite side. He hadn’t spotted Toby. He held a rake and glared at a massive pile of leaves as the wind took the top layer into the air and scattered them across the grass.

  Racing across the bridge, Toby’s footsteps echoed loudly. Arlo whipped around. His chest puffed out, clearly ready to demand tribute, but when he saw Toby his whole demeanor softened. A smile graced his lips.

  Toby grinned as an idea formed in his mind. The irresistible leaf pile called him. Surely Arlo wouldn’t mind…

  He flew across the meadow and leapt into the mound with a joyful whoop. The leaves cushioned his fall, leaving him sprawled in the center. He brushed the stragglers from his shoulders as he sat up.

  “Hello, Arlo,” he said between chuckles. There was nothing quite like running full speed into a pile of leaves.

  Arlo stared at him with a curious expression on his face, halfway between amused and annoyed. “You’re here,” he grunted.

  “Yes.” Toby climbed to his feet. “Something told me I must visit you today, and I’m glad I did for this is the finest leaf pile I’ve jumped in for ages. You’ll have to have a go.”

  Arlo stepped in and knocked a few stray leaves from Toby’s clothes. “Why would I do that?”

  “Because it’s fun. Doesn’t it look fun?”

  Arlo considered him, brows arched.

  “Hand me the rake.” Arlo did, and Toby raked the pile back into order. “All right, it’s ready for you.” He put the rake aside and pressed both hands to Arlo’s chest, pushing gently. “You have to back up to give yourself some room.”

  Arlo allowed himself to be moved into place. Toby may have left his hands on the troll’s chest longer than was strictly necessary, but the soft flesh covering those hard muscles was too enticing to let go. He gave Arlo’s chest a pat then stepped aside.

  “All right, now you. Close your eyes when you hit so dust won’t get in.”

  Arlo didn’t budge. He cocked his head to the side and grumbled, “You want me to jump in the leaf pile?”

  Toby thought he’d made that relatively clear. “Yes.”

  “But I’ll scatter it.”

  “Who cares?”

  “I do! I’ve spent all morning raking them up.”

  “I’ll put it back together for you,” said Toby though what he was really thinking was they lived outdoors and leaves would be leaves. Why rake them into a pile in the first place? But he knew Arlo preferred to stay busy and liked things neat and tidy, so if Arlo wanted them in a pile, Toby would rake them into a pile—after they took full advantage of the opportunity.

  Hesitating, Arlo cast Toby a questioning glance. “I’m bigger than you. Will they hold me?”

  Toby eyed the enormous pile and struggled not to laugh. “They’ll hold you, yes. They’ll squish beneath you and cushion the fall. Ready?”

  Though he still looked skeptical, Arlo nodded. “If you say so.”

  “Three,” Toby shouted, “two, one…Go!”

  Arlo hurdled across the grass to the pile, heaved himself into the air, and landed in the center of the stack with a whoosh. Tousled leaves scattered every which way. Booming laughter sounded from within the stack.

  Toby skipped over as the dust settled. One big, grey hand emerged from the mess. Toby grabbed it and tugged. Arlo sat up, wiped his face with his free hand, and let out a string of guffawing laughter so joyous Toby had to join in.

  “You liked the game I take it?”

  “Who wouldn’t?” Arlo squeezed his hand.

  Toby prepared to haul Arlo to his feet for another go, but with a mischievous glint twinkling in his eyes, the troll gave a mighty pull. He yanked Toby off his feet, into the pile and straight on top of him. Toby landed with a huff that stole his breath, chest to chest and half buried in fallen leaves.

  They lay there, in a fit of giggles that trickled away to leave a warm tingling sensation deep in Toby’s stomach. He lifted his head to stare down at Arlo who lay grinning beneath him. As Toby’s gaze caught on those plush, slate-grey lips—the same mouth that had been tempting
him for months—Arlo’s grin softened to a more serious expression.

  Toby lay his hand on Arlo’s cheek and risked a glance to his unwavering blue eyes. Finding no opposition, he leaned in for the kiss he’d longed for. Moving slow, their lips met, soft and gradual, then deepening as Toby’s courage grew.

  When Arlo’s arms came around his waist and pulled them tight together, Toby knew he’d made the right choice. He only wished he’d done it sooner. Opening his mouth, Toby sucked on Arlo’s bottom lip. The troll groaned, the sound rumbling against Toby and sparking a fire at his core. Their tongues slid in a gentle caress, wet heat building between them.

  Toby wished they could go on like this forever, but he was beginning to feel pleasantly lightheaded. He pulled back for air.

  Bits of leaf and twig were caught in Arlo’s hair. Toby picked them out gently then trailed his finger along Arlo’s thick brow.

  “Toby.” Arlo’s whisper came out gruff and throaty. “Kiss me again.”

  He could hardly refuse and leaned in for more. The way Arlo’s hands moved on him—stroking his back, kneading his shoulders, and wrapping around the back of his neck—Toby couldn’t get enough. He moaned into the kiss, letting all the pent up desire smolder and burn between them.

  Arlo kissed with his whole focus, as if the rest of the world faded away, and only Toby remained. The result was a staggering sense of significance and an urge to protect this connection burgeoning between them.

  “You’ve no idea how much I’ve wanted to do that,” Toby breathed against Arlo’s ear.

  Arlo’s lips moved against his jaw. “I’m so glad you did.”

  Cuddling into Arlo’s bulk, Toby pressed a line of featherlight kisses down his throat. “I wasn’t sure…that is, I didn’t know if you felt the same way.”

  “I do.” Arlo held him close.

  Heat stirred between them, but so did the dust from the leaf pile, tickling Toby’s nose and threatening to make him sneeze.

  “Come, let’s get out of the leaves.” Toby climbed to his knees, took a moment to commit the picture of a freshly kissed Arlo on his back beneath him to memory, and reached to help him up.