Page 61 of Kiss of Smoke

One night the rain became snow, and a shiver went through my core. It didn’t hurt to shed myself, the leaves dropping into a pile around me.

Around this time, I woke up a little, and became vaguely aware that I was surrounded by more than just other trees and magic.

Something was moving the leaves I’d shed.

I felt the vibrations of feet, and warm hands on my trunk. Arms wrapped around me, whispering things I couldn’t hear, but I felt a torrent of emotion behind them.

Sometimes they changed. Sometimes the hands were harder, sometimes cooler. But they never left. There was always that presence of someone else with me.

I was comforted as the temperature sank lower, and I fell into another deep sleep with it.

The next time I woke, the trees were all yawning alongside me, coming out of the depths of winter. We stretched together, luxuriating as the sun grew warmer and the snow melted, giving us all a drink.

A lot of my energy went into growing new leaves. It was a peaceful time, and I felt much better about these new ones: they were glossy and green, exactly as I should be.

The other trees told me that yes, I was becoming quite an admirable tree.

But the presences that I’d become aware of before winter had never left.

They were there as soon as we woke up for spring, and sometimes I’d come out of my reverie of peace and become suddenly aware that a presence—a person—was sitting on the ground, leaning against my trunk.

One of them was always speaking, talking to me in low tones. I felt the vibrations of a deep voice through my trunk. Another quietly read to me from a book. The last one was silent, but he kept his hands on the gnarled roots at the base of my trunk, just sitting with silent watchfulness.

I knew who they were, but it was hard to remember. Or maybe it was just hard to leave the peaceful nothingness, where there was no pain and I worried about nothing but rain, sun, and sleep.

One day, one of the people wrapped his arms around me—I knew instinctively that all of them were men, males of the Fae—and just rested his cheek against my bark.

I was more awake than usual that day. The rain had poured all morning, and the sun was pleasantly warm without being suffocating.

You’re not one of us, a blackthorn tree whispered.

Of course I was. I had roots, a trunk, and leaves, which made me a tree in all the obvious ways. I liked rain and sun as much as they did.

It’s time to go home. My neighbors, several puny little faerie fruit bushes, seemed to shudder in the ground.You’ve slept long enough, sister.

Iwashome. This ground was my home.

Remember your name. The blackthorn tree’s mental ‘voice’ was less forgiving than the bushes.You haven’t lived long enough to earn your rest now.

I wanted to go silent and blank again, but conscious thoughts were beginning to creep up, thoughts that had nothing to do with the peaceful day to day of being planted solidly in the earth.

I’d had a name, and a physical body that wasn’t made of wood. The presences weren’t coincidental, because I’d once asked them to wait for me.

Since I had no lungs still, my sigh was mental. It was time to re-form myself.

But even with the acknowledgement that no, I wasn’t in fact a true tree, it was still hard to condense back into my living body and let that pure serenity go. More complex worries and fears returned as I came back to myself.

What if they hadn’t really waited for me? What if the chaos I’d left had taken over, and I’d been happily sleeping through it?

The blackthorn tree rebuffed me every time my mind tried to blank out again.

Pull yourself together, it advised.Don’t waste your life sleeping.

That acerbic voice, along with the sensation of the Fae men who had never left my side, and the thickened magic trapped within the Veil, allowed me to draw enough power from the earth of Avilion to finish the process of awakening.

Their names returned to me as I drank in the magic, slowly consolidating myself.

Gwyn was the one who would talk to me all the time, while Robin would lay against me and read me books. It was Jack who just rested and let his comforting presence soak into my consciousness.

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