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The moss maidens emerged, staring at Serilda as if she had turned blue in the time since they’d last seen her.
She was so cold, she wouldn’t have doubted it.
She tried to smile, but it was difficult to do when her teeth were chattering. “Will you be all right now? Can you find your way back to the forest?”
The taller maiden, Parsley, sneered, as if insulted by such a question. “It is you humans who regularly lose yourselves, not us.”
“I didn’t mean to offend.” She glanced down at their immodest furs. “You must be so cold.”
The maiden didn’t respond, just stared intently at Serilda, both curious and irritated. “You have saved our lives, and risked your own to do it. What for?”
Serilda’s heart fluttered gleefully. It sounded so heroic, when put that way.
But heroes were supposed to be humble, so she merely shrugged. “It hardly seemed right, chasing you down like that, as if you were wild animals. What did the hunt want with you, anyway?”
It was Meadowsweet who spoke, seeming to overcome her shyness. “The Erlking has long hunted the forest folk, and all manner of magical kin besides.”
“He sees it as sport,” said Parsley. “Suppose, when you’ve been hunting so long as he has, taking home the head of a common stag must not seem like much of a prize.”
Serilda’s lips parted in shock. “He meant tokillyou?”
They both looked at her as if she were dense. But Serilda had assumed the hunt was chasing them to capture them. Which, perhaps, was worse in some ways. But to murder such graceful beings for the fun of it? The idea sickened her.
“We typically have means of protecting ourselves from the hunt, and evading those hounds,” said Parsley. “They cannot find us when we stay under the protection of our Shrub Grandmother. But my sister and I were not able to make it back before nightfall.”
“I am glad I could help,” said Serilda. “You are welcome to hide in my root cellar anytime you’d like.”
“We owe you a debt,” said Meadowsweet.
Serilda shook her head. “I won’t hear of it. Believe me. The adventure was well worth the risk.”
The maidens exchanged a look, and whatever passed between them, Serilda could see they didn’t like it. But there was resignation in Parsley’s scowl as she stepped closer to Serilda and fidgeted with something on her finger.
“All magic requires payment, to keep our worlds in balance. Will you accept this token in return for the aid you’ve given me this night?”
Struck speechless, Serilda opened her palm. The maiden dropped a ring onto it. “This isn’t necessary … and I certainly didn’t do anymagic.”
Parsley tilted her head, a rather birdlike gesture. “Are you certain?”
Before Serilda could respond, Meadowsweet had stepped closer and removed a thin chain from her neck.
“And will you accept this token,” she said, “in return for the aid you’ve given me?”
She looped the necklace around Serilda’s outstretched palm. It bore a small oval locket.
Both pieces of jewelry shone gold in the moonlight.
Actual gold.
They must be worth a great deal.
But what were forest folk doing with them? She had always believed that they had no use for material riches. That they saw humankind’s obsession with gold and gems as something unsavory, even repulsive.
Perhaps that was why it was so easy for them to give these gifts to Serilda. Whereas, for her and her father, these were a treasure like nothing she’d ever held.
And yet—
She shook her head and held her hand out toward them. “I can’t take these. Thank you, but … anyone would have helped you. You don’t need to pay me.”
