Page 66 of The Wulver's Bond
The same was true of their cave. Arran returned from gathering limpets one day to find the inner sanctum smelling unusually sweet, which turned out to be because of the thick curtains of honeysuckle Moss had hung around the walls.
Arran brushed one of the fragrant flowers with a claw. ‘How does it survive in here without sunlight?’
‘I feed it sun from elsewhere,’ Moss said as he skipped past, as though such an answer were obvious.
Outside, the plants changed with the seasons and dropped their leaves as they normally would. But inside the cave, Moss kept the honeysuckle blooming. Its colour and perfume brought warmth to the cold rock.
Meanwhile, Arran fished and filled the larder to its brim. He learned that Moss didn’t need to eat as humans would, drawing his nourishment from the soil like the trees around him. But Moss enjoyed being fed by Arran. And Arran explained, in nouncertain terms, that he received enormous satisfaction from providing for Moss.
Moss spent much of his time in his new form, halfway between human and dryad. He practiced manipulating his shape, until he could emulate a human entirely.
‘I figure it’ll be useful if we ever run into people,’ Moss told Arran with a grin. ‘They’d be more comfortable talking to someone who looks like them, right?’
‘Why would we expect to talk to humans?’ Arran asked, harbouring a small measure of suspicion. Moss usually had some additional motive behind anything that took effort.
‘My roots tell me someone has moved into old Ruth’s house.’ Moss twirled his frock coat, pretending innocence. ‘’Tis her grand-niece, Diana. I hear she’s an artist and has moved out here to be alone after a disastrous break-up.’
Arran huffed, pulling Moss to a standstill. ‘Sounds like you’ve been spying.’
‘Just the gossip of grass.’ Moss’s knowing gaze caught Arran’s. ‘Reckon she could use a friend, all alone out here.’
‘I doubt she wants to be approached by two strangers from the wild.’
Moss waved a hand dismissively. ‘Details.’
It took many weeks of coaxing from Moss, but Arran finally caved in and helped him arrange a welcome basket for their new neighbour. They wrote a note on paper that Moss wove out of living grass and dried in the sun.
Dear Neighbour,
We live to the north and noticed your recent arrival. We were friends to Ruth and wish to welcome you into your new home. We hope you find great happiness here.
As for ourselves, we are a reclusive couple and prefer asolitary lifestyle in our own company. Which is to say, we do not wish to impose upon you.
Please enjoy this welcome gift of island delicacies. Apologies if the pickled fish is not to your taste.
Warm regards,
Arran and Moss
x x x x x x x x
Arran agonised over the wording for hours, fearing any part of it could be considered threatening. Moss didn’t quite understand the nuance, and drew a row of messy kisses underneath the sign-off.
They dropped off the basket and left immediately. Arran didn’t want to risk being seen.
A week later, Moss skipped into the cave waving an envelope.
Arran’s brow furrowed. ‘Where did you get that?’
‘Diana left it out for us,’ Moss declared excitedly. ‘I guess she figured we might pass by.’
‘Moss…’ Arran pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘We talked about spying.’
‘It’s not spying.’ Moss pouted. ‘It’s… checking in. Anyway, let’s read it, wolfie!’
Diana’s letter was written in neat cursive on embellished notepaper. It read:
Hi Arran and Moss!
