Page 50 of Pareidolia

He was breathless when we’d landed, and he’s still breathless as he looks at the cabin in front of us.

“How long has this been here?” His question is full of a curious tone that I don’t quite understand until he elaborates. “You can’t just… conjure cabins out of thin air, can you?”

It’s not something I’ve tried, creating a home from shadows. I’m sure I could make something, but…

“You wanted human amenities… I know nothing of making those. So I took them for you instead.”

“Took,” he says, and I nod.

“How long has this been here?” He asks the same question, and I sigh.

“Time passes differently when time is all you have. It was here when some of these trees didn’t exist… before the town of Duskfen had paved roads. I let the humans build it, and now I’m finding a use for it.” I hope the answer is enough to satisfy him, but Aspen crosses his arms over his chest, drawing the black tank top he wears beneath his jacket tight over lean muscle. I notice the glow of his tattoo is faint, still satisfied. His fingers pulse crimson in steady, thundering beats.

His pulse on the back of my tongue is even.

He’s not angry. He’s just curious.

“And someone was here before you decided to take it? I mean, that’s what the word take implies. Was it someone from town?”

The semantics of his questions are starting to bore me. “You said you needed a place to stay and I found it. Would you rather I keep you tied to the trees so you can’t leave?”

Aspen opens his mouth and then snaps it shut just as quick, hard enough that his teeth click together as he glowers at me. “You really would break my legs to keep me trapped.” He throws the accusation like it’s confirmation of something he said to me earlier.

“Not both of them.”

That doesn’t seem to please him, but he turns his head back to the cabin in question before he finally sighs. “You can’t give me something you don’t own.” Aspen cuts his gaze to me. “And don’t give me that shit about you owning the forest. Unless you built this cabin, it isn’t yours.”

I could argue that he’s wrong… that everything in these trees is mine, including him, but instead I gesture for him to keep moving. “You’re right. It isn’t mine…” His suspicious expression is warranted when I grin. “It’s yours.”

“If people from town live here, it’s just as bad as the fire tower. Someone is going to notice that they’re missing, eventually.” I’m not sure why he’s so caught up on who lived in this place before when they aren’t going to bother him, and I cross my arms over my chest, dropping one to tap in irritation against my thigh.

“They weren’t from your little town. They came to the forest years ago and found this place and decided they didn’t want to leave.”

Aspen shakes his head, but I notice the normal human apprehension that would stop a person from stepping forward when a monster offers them a gift doesn’t apply to him. He trails up the stairs, glancing around as he does. There’s a porch with an awning, two rocking chairs… and on the table, a piece of wood is half carved into a figure of something with wings.

Maybe they’ve seen me before—maybe they saw me in the air the other night when I was chasing Aspen.

It doesn’t really matter, and Aspen only gives it a cursory glance, taking a second to inspect the knife before he drops it back on the table and turns to the door. It’s not locked when he twists the handle. It hadn’t been locked when I’d come inside either.

Even if the people who lived here knew there was a monster that lived in the woods, they obviously hadn’t taken the threat very seriously.

Not that a locked door would have kept me out.

The cabin is still bathed in low light—whoever was here before put up panels to soak up the sun high in the trees, and there’s still enough daylight with the season for it to manage. It casts a soft glow over a couch, and a large wooden box that overflows with handmade blankets. The fireplace is stacked with fresh-cut wood that makes the room smell like pine and almost hides the undercurrent of copper.

I feel even more smug as I look around. It’s adequate. Warmer than the fire tower. It has power, dried food and cans stored in a little room. There’s books on the shelves to entertain him if he gets bored and blankets if he gets cold. I haven’t even looked through everything, but it’s more than enough if he was content to stay in the fire tower. Compared to it, this is a palace, a mansion, a luxury I find oddly satisfying to offer Aspen since he asked for it.

“Nox…” Aspen takes a few more steps inside and frowns, plucking at a blanket on the back of the couch that’s only half stitched together. “Who lives here?”

“You.”

It’s the most obvious answer, and one that I’m surprised he questions. “I don’t live here. I’ve never seen this place before, and I grew up in this town. I never even knew it was here.”

“Few did.” My eyes flick to the kitchen, to the closed door behind him. “Fewer now.”

“Nox…” Aspen’s voice is even more wary as he reaches out and grabs a photo from the dresser. It’s old—a man and woman smiling at each other. “Unless you want to tell me about relatives I didn’t know about…” His eyes flash up to mine, and whatever he sees on my face must not be to his liking. “Were they already gone when you got here?”

I have a feeling we both know the answer to that too, but I shrug. “It’s not important.”