Page 40 of Outcast Fae
“We were restricted to a small area north of here,” he continued, “but since the werewolves, we’ve been able to move further. The guidance counselors seem… preoccupied.”
“Two weeks,” Elon said. “That’s a while you’ve been here. What have you been up to? Any word on when they’ll let you go. Anything better to eat than MREs?”
“No, MREs has been it.” Patricia pulled a face. “And no mention of when we’ll leave. We’ve just been having all these useless counseling sessions, and it seems they’re trying to kill us every five seconds.”
It sounded just like our situation.
“Was it always just the four of you?” Wally asked suspiciously.
As soon as he asked this, a branch shook overhead, and a figure dropped from above, landing in a crouch ten yards in front of us.
Vaughn tensed, pointing his spear, but all I could do was stand frozen with my jaw hanging open, staring at the fae male that had just rained from the sky.
He had long, furry ears and golden-red hair plaited into many braids. Green eyes, slitted like a cat’s, stared straight at me, while elongated canines smiled welcomingly.
“Sinasre!” I exclaimed and ran to meet him.
His large arms wrapped around me as I crashed into him. He smelled of pine and nutmeg, of home. His embrace crushed my wings, sending a pang of pain up to my neck, but I didn’t care.
Sinasre was here. My cousin. He was the son of the Queen and King of Alanthyl and had lived in the human realm much longer than me. He had even attended the Supernatural Academy for a short time. He was family. Someone I could trust.
Reluctantly, I peeled away from him and glanced up at his familiar, comforting face.
“At first,” he said, “I couldn’t believe my eyes. I saw those wings and I…” he broke off, “It’s so good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you, too.”
“I hate to interrupt thislovelyfae reunion, but who the hell are you?” Vaughn stepped forward, approaching menacingly.
Sinasre squared his shoulders in Vaughn’s direction, sensing the hostility. They circled each other, taking their measure. They were both tall and broad and exactly the same height. Sinasre was a Fae Warrior, trained by his father in all manner of combat, but something told me Vaughn would be a worthy match.
“Who the hell areyou?” Sinasre replied with his own question.
Hatred flashed in Vaughn’s eyes, reminding me of what he had done.
“They want our food, Sinasre,” the little girl said from afar.
Sinasre ignored her as he and Vaughn continued to size each other up.
“How do you two know each other?” Vaughn demanded, glancing at me with suspicion as if he thought that Sinasre and I were in some sort of scheme together.
“We don’t have to explain anything to you, human,” Sinasre said. “Especially when your manners leave so much to be desired.”
“Sinasre is… a friend,” I said, sensing it wouldn’t be a good idea to reveal Sinasre was actually my cousin.
“A friend, huh?” Vaughn said, inhaling deeply as if he could somehow smell the lie in the air. “What a nice coincidence for you to run into each other here. Don’t you think, guys?” he asked, directing his question toward Elon and Wally.
The two exchanged confused glances and shrugged as if they thought nothing of it. Dense as rocks, those two.
“Who cares, man?” Wally said. “We came here for water. Fucking need a bath. I reek.” He sniffed his armpit and wrinkled his nose. He was still shirtless, his chest pale and with a dusting of dark hairs in the middle. I wondered if they would give him another shirt after losing the first one. His form wasn’t as pleasing to look at as Vaughn’s.
“I’m also starving.” Wally cast a longing glance in the orange-haired girl’s direction.
The female tightened her grip around the straps of her backpack, her dark eyes appearing as if she were wishing death upon Wally.
Vaughn had opened his mouth to say something else when an image flickered to life off to the side. It played against a backdrop of bushes like one of those movies that the children had enjoyed on our tiny hut’s TV back at the Academy.
The image showed a beach, waves ebbing and flowing easily on sugary sands. Gradually, the image spanned outward, revealing a wider section of the beach until a pig on a spit appeared into view. Fat dripped off of it and sizzled as it hit a bed of coals. It rotated lazily, propelled by magic. The delicious smell of roasted meat drifted through the air. We could not only see and hear the image, but we could also smell it, too.
