Page 9 of Furever Bound
"They consume my content as inspiration to seek their own authentic experiences," she corrected, feeling defensive heat rise in her cheeks. "I show them possibilities they might not have considered."
"And you think mountain folklore will provide that inspiration?"
"I think mountain folklore represents exactly what they're craving—stories that connect people to place, to community, to something larger than individual achievement."
Her voice had grown passionate without her realizing it, and when she looked up from her notes, she found Maddox studying her with an intensity that made her breath catch.
"You understand more than I initially thought," he admitted, his tone softer than she'd heard before.
"Careful, Professor," she said, trying to lighten the suddenly charged atmosphere. "That almost sounded like a compliment."
"It was."
The simple acknowledgment hung between them like a bridge neither seemed ready to cross. Ember squawked from her perch, her telepathic amusement apparently extending to their verbal dynamics, and the sound broke whatever spell had been building.
"So," Sera said, clearing her throat and focusing on the book in his hands, "what's today's lesson in cultural preservation?"
"Local legends," Maddox replied, though his voice retained that rougher edge. "Specifically, stories that residents still actively believe rather than simply preserve as historical curiosities."
He opened the volume to reveal hand-drawn illustrations of creatures that looked like they'd stepped from fever dreams. Detailed sketches of shadowy figures with antlers, spirits that moved between trees, beings that seemed to shift between human and animal forms.
"These aren't just stories," he continued, his academic tone returning but carrying undertones she couldn't quite identify. "They're active folklore—legends that continue shaping behavior and community decisions."
"Active folklore," she repeated, studying a particularly detailed illustration of a creature labeled "Grimjaw the Bone Collector. Meaning people still believe these things are real?"
"Meaning people still live as if these things are real," he corrected, watching her reaction carefully. "Whether that's literal belief or cultural respect varies by individual."
The drawing of Grimjaw commanded her attention with unsettling intensity. The artist had captured something genuinely menacing in the creature's shifting form—antlers that looked suspiciously like human bones, a figure that seemed to exist partially outside normal reality.
"This one's particularly detailed," she observed, noting the careful attention to anatomical specifics that suggested more than imagination. "Grimjaw the Bone Collector. What's his story?"
"Traditional warning tale," Maddox said, though something in his tone suggested there was more to it. "Parents tell it to keep children from wandering too far into the woods alone. The creature supposedly hunts isolated individuals, especially during times when community bonds are weakened."
"And people still tell this story?"
"People still avoid certain forest areas after dark," he replied. "Still travel in groups during particular seasons. Still maintain protective practices that have been passed down for generations."
Sera studied the illustration more closely, noting details that made her skin crawl despite the morning sunlight streaming through the windows. "The artist was incredibly talented. This feels almost photographic."
"Sometimes folklore inspires remarkably vivid artistic interpretation," Maddox said carefully.
"Or sometimes folklore is based on remarkably vivid real experiences," she suggested, testing his reaction.
His pause was long enough to feel significant. "What makes you say that?"
"The consistency of details across different sources," she said, flipping through pages of similar illustrations. "Most folklore varies significantly in the retelling, but these descriptions are remarkably stable. Almost like people are documenting actual encounters rather than evolving stories."
She looked up to find him watching her with an expression that mixed approval and concern.
"You have good instincts," he said finally.
"Good enough to handle the real answers about what's happening in this town?"
The challenge hung between them like a dare, and for a moment she thought he might actually tell her whatever truth he'd been carefully dancing around for three days.
Instead, his phone buzzed with what looked like an urgent message, and she watched his face change as he read it.
"Everything alright?" she asked, noting the way his shoulders tensed.
