Page 3 of Must Love Moss and Moonshine
He was right.
I lifted the handpie, took a bite, and tried not to look at the barkeep.No more fantasies about snuggling up with him.And no more wandering.Tomorrow, I would buy a horse and head out for Moonshine Hollow on my own.Bromir could catch up with me later.Nixies or not, I wanted to rest.The sooner I got to Moonshine Hollow, the better.
I put my arm around the dwarf’s shoulders, leaning against him.
“It’s just the nixies,” he told me again.
I tapped my giant mug against his but said nothing more, not even when Bromir traded his empty tankard for my full one.Deep in my heart, I knew I would miss almost nothing about being on the road—except him.
CHAPTER2
KELLEN
“Marvelle,” I called up to the squirrel, who was decidedly uninterested in listening to me.Through the canopy of golden leaves, I could just make out his russet-colored form huddled against the trunk, his injured foot tucked into his body.“Come down.I know you’ve injured your foot.You cannot stay up there and sulk.Come with me to let me tend to it.You must come to my cottage to rest.”
I stared up at the ancient oak, waiting patiently for the youngest of this year’s litter of Mesmer squirrels to appear.Marvelle, whom I had named for a wandering magician I’d seen once at the autumn festival in Moonshine Hollow, ignored me.The magician had performed death-defying stunts and had survived.The runt of this year’s litter had the same bravado.Usually it served him well, but this time his courage had exceeded his capabilities.Even for a Mesmer squirrel’s impressive agility, the gap between the trees across the southern ravine was simply too wide.I had been gathering herbs nearby when he’d gotten hurt.Now he had climbed high into this oak, too proud to admit he needed help.
“The fairies already told on you.They saw the entire fiasco and reported to me that you’re injured.There’s no use denying it.Come down.”
In reply, the squirrel called out with his last defense—an immobilizing chirrup.Mesmer squirrels had one magical ability: they could freeze their enemies for thirty seconds, usually giving them enough time to escape.The magic was effective on everything in the forest…except dryads.
I smirked, amused at his effort.At least his bravado was consistent.“That won’t work on me, and you know it.Now, come.”
After a few moments, the bushy red squirrel reluctantly crawled down to me.Even from where I was standing, I could see he was keeping weight off his back foot.I held out my hand.The creature crawled onto my arm and up to my shoulder.
“There is no use in being petulant,” I told him, handing him an acorn.“And also, no use trying to jump across the ravine.You are bold and strong, but no squirrel can make that leap.You are not a pegasus.”
The bushy creature clicked at me in protest, but only once.He knew I was right.
As I made my way back to the caretaker’s cottage, I stopped at a circle of red-capped otter mushrooms, picking just a few to dry and add to my collection.I stashed them in my satchel alongside the bramblebell root and emmalime bark I had already gathered this morning.As we passed through a glade of mountain bells, the tiny forest fairies that tended them zipped quickly past, spreading fairy dust, tending to any illnesses, or collecting dew.I worked my way safely around them, careful not to trample the flowers.
“Forest guardian,” one tiny green-haired fairy said, pausing to bow to me as I passed.
“Good sir,” I replied.
“Lord Kellen,” another fairy woman said, pausing midair to curtsy to me.
“Good lady,” I told her, then turned to them all.“Hail, my Good Neighbors.I have fetched the patient.Thank you for your help.”
A chorus of polite calls came in reply.Marvelle huffed but did not call out.He knew the cardinal rule of the forest: never mess with the fairies.They might be good-natured in general, but if you do anything to bother them, they will harass you endlessly or tell on you to the forest’s dryad caretaker.
It was more than a two-hour walk back to the caretaker’s cottage.Walking the forest allowed me to survey the land, detecting any problems that needed my attention.Today, Marvelle was the only creature in need of my care.In the far distance, I felt the rumble of Old Mohr, the bear who had dubbed himself my petulant nemesis, but otherwise, the forest was silent.
Silent.
Empty.
The solitude had long been my solace.I had been caretaker of the forest for many decades now, and all this time, I had enjoyed the silence.
But this year…
This year, I found myself counting the days until my annual visit to the autumn market in Moonshine Hollow.Each morning, I caught myself rehearsing simple pleasantries, as if my tongue had forgotten the shape of casual conversation.When had I last touched another person’s hand in greeting?When had I last heard someone laugh?The fairies’ tinkling giggles and the creatures’ friendly chitters filled my days, but they weren’t the same as sharing a moment of understanding with another person.
I had been thinking of what I might see, whom I might talk with.I even debated stopping by one of the taverns for a tankard—something I never did, even though the company in Moonshine Hollow was always warm and inviting.For ages, I had paid my annual visit to Juniper Merrifrost, herbalist and potion maker, dropping off the moonshine plant that was needed to make the rare, healing Moonshine draft, for which the village was named.Usually, I just slipped in and out of the village like a shadow, exchanging only the necessary words about the harvest.But this year, I lingered over thoughts of the market—the press of the crowd, the melody of voices calling out their wares, the simple pleasure of brushing shoulders with strangers.
I frowned, pressing my hand against the rough bark of a nearby tree, seeking comfort in its familiar texture.
I was a dryad.We lived solitary lives.That was our nature.For decades, I had found complete contentment in my duties, in the rhythm of the seasons, in the quiet companionship of the forest creatures.The silence had been a friend, the solitude a comfortable cloak I wore with pride.
