Page 9 of Must Love Moss and Moonshine
“I don’t know,” I whispered, suddenly feeling frightened.“I can’t find it.”
My eyes began to water, and my face scrunched up as I fought back tears.
In a calm voice, Kellen asked, “Where were you headed?You were on the road on horseback.Where were you going?”
I tried to remember, but nothing came to me.“I don’t know.”
“Where did you come from?From Greenspire?Maybe Willowbrook?”
Again, I heard the laughter of a tavern, and I saw a dwarven man singing a drinking song as he swung a massive tankard of ale alongside a lanky red-headed human and a teetotaling gnomish lady.But that could be any tavern anywhere.And yet, they felt familiar.The dwarf… In my memory, I saw him smile at me and pass me a knavish wink.There was a feeling of mirth and kinship.I felt my cheeks aching and red from laughing at the trio.
“I remember a tavern.A dwarf and two others.No names.Barely faces,” I said, then trembled.“I don’t remember.Truly,” I said, opening my eyes.
I looked at Kellen, who had bowed his head slightly to listen.He was so close to me that I caught the scents of basil, fern, and loamy earth on top of a deep, heady scent that was all him.It was an intoxicating smell.The scent reminded me of home, but I could not recall for the life of me where that was.Had I come from the Sylvan homelands of Greenspire?
Kellen whispered, his breath stroking my cheek, “It is all a whirlwind of pictures.Much life and light, many people, much noise.So much noise,” he said, pulling back and giving his hand a shake as if to dislodge the cacophony.He exhaled heavily.“I’m sorry.I cannot see past the confusion.You must rest, and I will consider what else can be done to help you remember,” he said, then rose and went to his hearth.
“How can I not remember my own name?”
“You hit your head hard when you fell.You just need rest.In a few days’ time, when your mind is clear, it will come back to you.”
Ladling out a crock of soup, the dryad set the food on the table then fetched a bannock from a warming tray and set it on a plate beside the crock.
“It is a woodland mushroom and rosemary soup.Nothing fancy, but it will restore you.Come.You must eat,” he told me, offering me his hand to help me up.“Go slowly.Your ribs will be sore.”
I nodded.Taking his hand, I slowly lifted myself from his bed then went to the table, my head feeling light…and my feet feeling cold on the stone floor.I shivered.
“Are you all right?”he asked, wrapping a gentle arm around me.
“Yes.I just…” I laughed.“My feet are cold.”
He chuckled lightly.“I see,” he said, then helped me settle in at the table.Lifting a clay pitcher, he poured me a drink.“I saw one thing in your memories.You like a good drink, but I doubt you’ve had chestnut ale before.”
“I have never heard of chestnut ale before, but I also haven’t heard my own name, apparently.”
Kellen smiled sympathetically, topped off the mug, then set the pitcher down.He disappeared into an alcove in his small cottage, returning with a pair of woven socks.He set them on the bench beside me.“They are new, unworn.I bought them at the autumn market in Moonshine Hollow last year.They will keep your feet warm.”
I lifted the socks, seeing the expert weave in the design and a small hedgehog worked into the pattern on the ankle.My eyes narrowed as I looked at that hedgehog, the sound of a woman’s laughing voice—like the tinkling of a sweet silver bell—ringing in my ears.But whatever the image was, it faded as quickly as it came.
Looking up at Kellen, I smiled softly.“Thank you.”
He inclined his head to me then paused a moment, as if unsure what to say or do next.He shifted, sticking his hands in his pockets, then removing them once more.
“Eat before it gets cold.Unless…” he said, then looked at the crock.“Maybe you don’t like woodland stew?It is simple fare.Perhaps…”
“Oh, no.It smells delightful.I am so grateful,” I said, lifting the wooden spoon he’d set out for me.
He nodded.“I have the fairies and other friendly residents of the forest looking for your horse.I will go and see if there is any news.Please rest when you’re done eating, and tell Marvelle if you need anything,” he said, gesturing to the squirrel.“He will see that I am informed,” he said, then turned to the squirrel, “but no acrobatics.Understood?”
The squirrel clicked at him.
With that, Kellen gave me a short bow then departed, taking a rough herb sack with him.
I watched him go then looked around the room once more.A bed for one person.A hook for one cloak.The dryad was alone here.Perhaps I should have felt ill at ease, not knowing where I was, not knowingwhoI was, but I didn’t.Bruised ribs and my aching head aside, I felt…content.And for some reason, which I could not explain, that feeling was so unfamiliar but so very, very appreciated.I couldn’t remember anything, but I knew it had been a very long time since I felt that way.
Turning back to the soup, I lifted my wooden spoon and dipped it in, savoring the scents of mushrooms, thyme, and rosemary, then took a bite.The flavors were so earthy and delicious, the broth almost fragrantly herbal.
“This is the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten,” I told the squirrel, who was watching me curiously.“Seriously,” I added, tearing off a bite of the warm bannock, sighing with contentment as I ate.
