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“You think or you know?”
“I know,” I correct. “Yeah, with him.”
“Come along,” Dugald says, appearing beside me and gripping my arm.
“She’s being friendly, Dug,” the deer-boy says.
“I do not have time for friendly, Cernunnos,” Dugald says. “You know this.”
“You have as much time as you allot,” Cernunnos says with an easy grin.
Dugald snorts, pulling me away.
“It was nice to meet you,” I say over my shoulder.
“Again,” Cernunnos says.
“Huh?” I ask but Dugald pulls harder on my arm, and I have to pay attention to where I’m walking or risk falling.
“Ignore him,” Dugald says.
“Why?” I ask, looking around with rampant curiosity.
None of the people we pass are, well, people. They’re not human, or not wholly human. I can’t look around fast enough or process what I see quick enough to make sense of any one thing. I see kids who look like old people dressed in leaves. People who are hybrids with animals of all kinds. And then I see the fairies.
The fairies are tiny people with translucent wings that shimmer as they dart about the branches of the tree. The sound of tinkling bells fills the air as they pass as though they are wearing them hidden in their clothing. Or maybe that’s just the sound their wings make as they fly; I can’t tell.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“Finally, a good question,” Dugald grumbles.
“You don’t have to be mean.”
“No matter what any here tell you,” he says, “we do not have time.”
“And that is not an answer,” I counter.
“You are in the Fae realm,” he says.
“It’s beautiful.”
We’re close to the trunk of the tree. It’s as big as a building. I don’t think twenty men could link their arms around it. Veins of silver trace their way up and down the trunk and the entire area is bathed in the light of the tree. I’m reminded of the story told by the bard back at the village.
Under the tree boughs, we stand in the middle of a village that rises from and blends in with the natural surroundings. The different creatures talk and work. There’s a surreal quality to everything, as if all of this is nothing more than a dream.
“Is it?” he asks.
“What do you mean?”
“Look, Quinn. Really look.”
I don’t understand what he wants, but I do as he commands. I look, picking out a fairy who’s flitting between the leaves of a low branch. It’s a beautiful, tiny girl. She wears a tiny leaf that is tied around her waist and her long, luscious brown hair almost magically keeps her breasts covered. She touches each leaf and as she does it slightly dims. Then she moves to the next one and the same thing happens again.
Something about her though is off. I look harder, squinting, and her perfect skin isn’t quite so perfect. Her lush hair is actually lank. Even the tree itself, now that I look, isn’t as bright as it seems.
“What is this?” I ask, walking towards the tree.
When I’m close enough, I touch it. My fingers tingle. Gentle energy flows to me from it. The bark is smooth and lined with silvery veins that pulse. But as I look closer, I see flaws. The veins of silver dim out in places. The bark is rough in areas. Between some of the folds of the bark is darkness, and a black ooze seeps out.
