“Gillia. I’m a dryad, protector of the forest.”
I scour my brain for where I’ve heard that word before. Something from my Greek mythology class pings in my mind. What a time to realize that every bit of information I shoved into my head on the topic is completely gone. It fell out of my brain the minute the final exam ended.
The main thing I remember is that they are mythological, which is supposed to mean they donot exist. The woman standing in front of me is very real.
She takes a step toward me and looks down to where dark bark winds its way over her feet and ankles and up her calves, her very own version of knee-high boots.
I swallow hard, realizing that’s the only thing on her that even vaguely resembles clothes. My fear-soaked brain finally relaxes enough to notice she’s naked. It’s different from seeing a human person; her skin has a soft look to it, like the sort of plant that I might find along the edge of a fallen log. It only serves to accentuate her curvy figure.
“What do you want with me?” I squeak out, trying to figure out where I can fix my gaze that might be considered respectful. Despite my concern over what happens next, the butterflies in my stomach start to swirl. My attraction to a dryad is something I’m not ready to examine. I’m blaming it on the hypothermia.
Gillia seems confused by the question, her head falling to one side as she examines me. “What do you mean?”
“Why am I here?”
“You were dying, back in the woods, next to one of my pines. I didn’t want to see you…go.”
Dying.I’m still coming to terms with a reality where I nearly lost my life. “Thank you.” The words fall short of what I really want to offer, but they’re all I’ve got. “I’m Sadie.”
Wait.My mind grinds to a halt, the sound of a record scratch ringing in my ears. “Have you been watching me?”
“A little.” She looks sheepish as she holds her fingers up, minimal space separating them.
Well, that explains a lot. Ever since I took this post, I’ve felt a presence. Not like a ghost or anything, but I don’t feel alone when I’m out in the wilderness. On my daily hikes and surveys, I’d been trying to get a better sense of what caused that sensation. The closer I got to this area, the stronger the feeling became.
It’s why I was out today. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stay away. Not for long. I’d say something felt off, but it was more that something finally felt right.Something called me back.
Or maybe someone.
“Why? Why me?”
“You…” Gillia looks away from me, her gaze landing on the bed on the side of the room. “You’re…different.” She steps back, giving me a little more space to breathe. “I’m not holding you hostage. You can leave, though I recommend staying until the weather clears. It would be an arduous trek back to your cabin.”
I hesitate, unsure what I’m supposed to say to that. She’s right, of course. If I’m remembering the snow correctly, it would be nearly impossible to walk back with the gear I currently have.
“If you are afraid, I can leave you alone. It’s safe, and you’ll be protected from the elements.”
I resist the urge to ask how she knows where I live. Thousands of questions are swirling in my mind, but none of them are important. “I’m not scared.” As I say the words, I realize how true they are. A little timid and unsure, but notafraid. At least not of Gillia. “I’m grateful you rescued me. I’d probably be dead if it weren’t for you.”
“So, you will stay? With me?”
“For now.”
Chapter
Four
GILLIA
Caring for a human is…complicated. Most of what I know about them comes from stories I’ve heard about dryad-human connections. Who knows how much of any of that was even true? My kind tends to exaggerate a little.
There’s the easy stuff, like keeping her warm and dry. But there are also some…let’s call them complications. Like, what am I supposed to feed her? I’ve seen a few things over the years, spied on enough campers to know food is essential. It’s thewhatthat’s a problem.
If I kill something for her, I’ll have a mutiny on my hands. Many forest dwellers, both flora and fauna, are already upset about the current situation. Allowing a human into my home isn’t something that happens often. Or ever. The trunk of my tree is thick, but it doesn’t keep out the whispers and gossip. Word of our little adventure is reaching far beyond this forest, traveling in all directions from Vermont. In a few short days, the news will have reached the redwoods of California. Those busybodies will have a field day with this.
When I stepped out briefly earlier, I was met with a chorus of questions, all of which boiled down to the same single ask: Am I keeping Sadie as my mate?
How was I supposed to answer something like that? Especially while she was still unconscious. It did make for a good excuse. But she’s awake now, and I still don’t have a good answer. All I have is my inclination. If it were up to me, I’d say yes in a heartbeat. I want her, but that’s not enough. First, I have to convince Sadie that she’s my mate. Then talk her into staying here, in the wilderness, with me. Neither of those conversations is going to be easy, no matter what the chipmunks say.
