Page 3 of A Winter Courtship
Several oreads, or those with oread heritage, lived in Ores. And sometimes oreads who lived in the valley came to visit the village. But Ulrich had no memory of ever meeting this particular mountain nymph. As a child, he’d played in the valley, but that was twenty years ago. And in recent years, he’d had little to do with the oreads who didn’t live or frequent the village.
“A wrin flower. That’s what he called it.” Ulrich stared at the flower. Its pale-blue petals contrasted with the dark brown of his glove. So delicate and lovely.
No one had ever given Ulrich something like this before. He could put it in his cabin. He’d need to get a vase, since he didn’t own one, but a cup might suffice. It would be the most beautiful thing in his home. His heart fluttered at the idea of the flower sitting on his table in his cabin, brightening the room.
“But why would he give this to me?” He glanced at Ethel. “Do you think this is a joke? Do you think he could be mocking me? Maybe he thinks it’s funny to give a big, brutish human such a nice gift.” He gave a bitter laugh.
An uncouth, hulking man like him didn’t receive pretty flowers.
Still… What if it wasn’t a joke? The nymph hadn’t seemed to be joking or mocking. What if this truly was a proper Solstice gift?
Ulrich’s throat tightened. “What did he say about oreads giving this flower to people they admire? Do you think that means he admires me? No!” He shook his head. “That idea is absurd! Don’t you think?”
Ethel looked up at him with her big brown eyes. She blinked.
“Exactly. He couldn’t admire me. Not rough, awkward me.” He swallowed. “We don’t even know each other! Then why give me this flower?”
The flower’s pretty. Like you.The oread’s voice echoed in his ears.
His face heated, and the tips of his ears burned. “And what was he on about me being pretty?” He barked a laugh. “I’m not pretty. Why would he call me that?”
Ethel’s snout pressed against his coat. He patted her, his rattled nerves calming.
“And he said he’d see me again soon. Could he mean it? When? And why?”
He had too many questions and no answers. And the unease and uncertainty slithered through his veins.
The trees thinned. The wooden cabins of Ores became visible amongst the snow. Spires of grey rose from the chimneys. The smell of the wood-fired smoke drifted through the frosty air. Forests encircled the village. The mountains rose behind them, white peaks piercing the pale sky.
Edwin, a botanist, and Sinoe, an oread healer, headed towards Ulrich on their way to the forest. Ulrich braced himself to talk with them. The two were nice enough. But that didn’t make him better at talking.
“Morning, Ulrich,” Edwin said. “Morning, Ethel.” Edwin reached forward to pat her head. She lifted her snout, seeking treats in his gloved hand but, finding none, settled for head scratches instead.
“Morning,” Ulrich said. “Happy Solstice.”
“Happy Solstice,” Sinoe said.
“We’re going into the forest to sketch rare fungi I’ve never seen before!” Edwin said, excitement lacing his voice. “Sinoe told me all about them.”
“It only grows in caves.” Sinoe held up a lantern. “We brought a lantern so Edwin can see.”
“Well, enjoy.” Ulrich was about to say goodbye and carry on, when his gaze snagged on the flower, wrapped in red ribbon, pinned to Edwin’s coat. A wrin flower. Exactly like the one he had just received.
“And you’ve been for a morning walk with Ethel?” Sinoe asked.
“Yes.” Had Sinoe given Edwin the flower as a Solstice gift?
“Did you meet anyone interesting?” Sinoe asked, voice soft.
Ulrich frowned, puzzled at the unusual question.
“What?” Then Ulrich realised Sinoe stared at the wrin flower in Ulrich’s hand.
“You know, wrin flowers are very rare.” Sinoe tilted his head. Long hair slid against his shoulders at the movement. “They bloom only in winter and are not easy to acquire.” He smiled gently. “It is a special gift. One that oreads only give to those we greatly admire.”
Ulrich tucked the hand behind him. He cleared his throat, staring at his feet. “I need to go. Ethel needs to be fed and watered.”
“Oh. Of course.” Sinoe paused. “I’m sorry, Ulrich. I shouldn’t have pried.”
