Page 3 of Consumed
I should bring her something next time.
A gift.
1
Love was poison—and I was an abomination for allowing such primal stirrings to control me.
But what choice did I have? Countless men had passed through my forest. Hunters. Druids. Fools. They rushed and ravaged. They marched too loudly along the fallen leaves without care for the creatures sheltering nearby—but nothim.
None were like my Eoin.
I couldn’t remember how long I had been here. I had once tried to count the seasons, but they folded in on each other, harsh winters blurring into mild summers. Over and over. I knew I had been here a long time—perhaps centuries.
Lately, I wondered if I had been waiting for Eoin all this time.
From the forest, my sisters and I had watched his village grow. Where once a few simple cottages had been scattered around a central, hearty fire, dozens now sprawled over the land. Dwellings ranged from simple thatched-roof structures to manors in the hills that boasted fields oflivestock. Further in the distance, a castle took form, harsh lines barely visible through the fog. The massive structure leeched more from the earth than the village itself.
As the humans’ presence grew, the borders of the forest shrank. Yews, ash, and oak slowly vanished, like a festering wound. It took many decades—and a few brutal reminders—for balance to settle across the land.
Despite their ignorance and inclinations toward cruelty, humans were never short of activity: battles, celebrations, feasts, famine. Watching them from afar, I had always found myself torn between detached fascination and heartbreak. I could scarcely remember my time as one of them. It felt like someone else’s distant dream. Flashes of rain on bare skin. Fingers in mine. Blood on moss. A gasp taken by the wind.
I was the forest now, or the forest was me. The lines blurred moment to moment.
Untilhim, nothing outside the forest had sparked joyful drumming in my chest.
And he would soon be here again.
The cool morning breeze curled through my unbound hair. I shut my eyes against the hazy glint of first light filtering through the trees and listened to the whisper of leaves all around. Ancient oaks groaned faintly, grass bowed, and the underbrush shifted as small creatures moved about in search of food.
Then,footsteps—the slow, steady rhythm of someone carefully plowing deeper into the woods.
I crawled higher on the wide, sloping oak branch, my bare feet digging in against the moss. The tree—ourtree—stood as tall as the largest manor on the hill, providing me a bird’s eye view of the ground below. I sensed Eoin before I saw him. His presence disrupted the birdsong and sent small animals fleeing to hide. The faint crunch of fallen leaves beneath his boots shattered the stillness, but he did not mean to cause commotion. His respect for my forest was reciprocated, and the trees seemed to bend around his presence, pleased.
A mop of tousled, ashy blond hair came into sight as Eoin tread into the grove of massive, moss-cloaked trees. I watched how he chose each step with such care, even as his weight sank into the earth the way my body never would. He had the lean, strong build that was common to craftsmen, with arms that pulled taut against the simple tunic tucked into his belted trousers. A half cloak was slung over his broad shoulders, protecting him against the early bite of autumn. The glint of his woodcutting axe was just visible beneath the folds of his cloak. The smell of him caught the air—woodsmoke and spice.
Each week without fail, his work brought him to the forest. He always remembered the proper blessings before he took his axe to my brothers, using their wood for his craft. Today, he carriedsomething in his arms, covered in cloth and bound by twine. As I watched him take a seat beside the ribboning creek and turn his gaze patiently all around him, I was no longer content to watch from afar.
I descended to a lower branch and willed my form to be visible to mortal eyes—though he had likely sensed my stare by now, whether he could see me or not.
“What have you brought for me today?” I called down.
Eoin lifted his gaze, a smile brightening his stoic features as our gazes met. He held up the bundle, a challenge as much as it was an invitation.
“Come and see.”
I dismounted, lowering myself down the centuries-old oak. His eyes flooded with gentle awe, as if he were watching silk itself unspool.
My bare feet hit the ground noiselessly. He straightened his shoulders at my approach—he always did, even though his fears that I was a vengefulbansheewere long behind him. Years had passed, but it was as unsettling as it was beautiful for him to see how the earth responded to me. As I approached, the grass straightened, the water’s gurgle brightened. Primrose and clover unfurled along my path, quiet as a whisper.
“Show me,” I demanded, beaming as I dropped beside him on the mossy earth. I placed my hands on his thigh with an impatient tug. “Have you crafted another gift?”
Eoin smiled, his eyes tracing the wild, silvery locks that hung over my shoulders. “How could I resist?”
He offered the package to me. I gave a chirrup of delight as I tore off the twine and unwound the cloth, revealing a rectangle of ash wood with a female figure carved into its surface. Garlands of primroses and ivy were sculpted around her like a frame. I traced my fingertips over the woodwork, where a faint etching of a face stared back at me.
“It’s you, little niamh.” Eoin’s arm settled around my waist, pulling me into his side. He inspected his handiwork proudly. “What do you think? Have I captured your beauty?”
“Quite an impossible feat for mortal hands,” I answered. “But averygood attempt. Thank you.” I clutched the piece to my chest, gifting him a wide smile. The thought of him toiling away by the fire’s light, etching my likeness with delicate strokes… I nearly purred at the flattery.
