Page 136 of Sweetling
She didn’t know how it could, but Molly didn’t really care right now. She knew it didn’t make sense to keep Hakon and the others away and instead give the forest a chance, but she wasn’t reasonable right now—not with her fae stabbed and slashed.
She’d only caught glimpses of it from across the makeshift battlefield, but Mollyfeltwhen her fae was wounded. It ripped at her soul, and only Bellarand’s colorful threats kept her up in that tree.
“Miss Molly, we should see to his wounds at the house,” Lord Hakon said.
“You all go back to the house,” she told them as she and Bellarand got Allarion walking. “The house will take care of you. I’ll be there soon. Just…just go to the house.”
The others looked on in bafflement as she and Bellarand led their fae away, but she didn’t care. After weeks and months with this fae and his grumpy unicorn, Molly was used to the strangeness. She was part of it now. They could all deal with it for an hour while she got Allarion to the meadow.
It was a slow, arduous walk. More than once, Molly begged him to mount Bellarand so the unicorn could take them, but Allarion insisted he could walk. The only reason she and Bellarand didn’t force it was, without him helping her, it’d take too much time and effort to get him safely astride the unicorn.
The trees and ferns and brambles cleared a path for them, making the ground easier to tread. Limbs lifted out of their way, and roots sank so they wouldn’t trip. Still, Molly watched every footfall, so closely that she didn’t realize it at first when they made it to the meadow.
“Here,” Allarion mumbled.
They set him down as carefully as they could. A bed of moss pushed up from the ground to cushion his way, and he settled comfortably on the earth.
Molly collapsed beside him, tears dripping down her cheeks.
“What now?” she asked. “What do you need?”
“Sleep,” he said before going still.
A sound of alarm caught in her throat. “Allarion, wait—!”
Let him,Bellarand cautioned.A long sleep will do him good.
Molly tried to swallow her worry, but she didn’t like seeing him preternaturally still. The long sleep took him away for a day, sometimes longer. Probably even longer with his wounds.
Another sound leapt up her throat when she saw roots and vines beginning to curl around his limbs.
“No!” she cried. “You can’t take anything from him!”
Bellarand touched his soft muzzle to her arm.It’s all right, titmouse. Watch.
With effort, Molly sat back on her haunches, watching through her tearful, blurry eyes. As the vines climbed over him, a soft glow emanated from their tips, a warm, golden light that reminded her of a summer sun. The foliage was careful not to directly touch his wounds, but as they crawled over him into a blanket, the blood staunched.
Allarion released a relieved sigh, the lines around his mouth smoothing.
Slumping back onto her rump, Molly witnessed nothing short of a miracle.
The forest gave back what Allarion had given. She didn’t know how she knew, just that she watched it happen. It wasn’t solely Allarion’s magic, either. It was a combination, the threads of his magic and that of the land’s woven together. It covered him in a soft halo of light, little sparkling threads, like spiderweb, cocooning him.
The warmth of the magic radiated from the fractals of light. Molly could feel it on her hands and cheeks, where it dried her tears.
The glow bathing him reflected in dozens of pinpoints around the meadow. Molly looked up in wonder as forest creatures began emerging from the trees. A herd of deer. A family of rabbits. Raccoons chittered on the branches, and moles came up from their holes. The rounded ears of a black bear twitched by a tree, although Molly didn’t fear it.
From the forest, a red squirrel bounded up to them. Tail twitching, its liquid black eyes stared up at her for a moment before it laid an acorn beside Allarion. With a little chitter at Bellarand, the squirrel hurried back to the forest.
Only for another, and another to come, bearing acorns. The deer bore twigs, the raccoons pinecones. The black bear left a mouthful of late blackberries. One after the other, they left their gifts.
Molly’s heart swelled. They were paying a sort of tribute. And more and more gathered at the edge of the meadow, watching over her fae.
Looking out at all of them, more tears began to run down her face. “Thank you,” she murmured.
Beside her, Bellarand folded his legs under him to lay down. He let her lean back against his bulk, her body quivering as relief washed through her.
“The forest is healing him,” she said, hardly believing the words as they left her lips.
