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It’s my turn to chuckle. “This isn’t therapy. This is called conversation. You’re in complete control of how much you open up about your life. You must be carrying more stress than you realize if you’re surprised you’re confiding in a total stranger whose people you’ve been raised not to trust.”
He opens his mouth to reply but then slams it shut.
There I go, making friends, as per usual. No wonder I’m alone.
I squeak my worry when he shifts into his bear form, effectively ending any attempts at conversation. I’m sure I deserve that, but if that’s true, then he’s earned me backing away from him. The last time he was a bear, he raised his claws to take a swipe at me.
Leo lowers his head, his four paws firmly fixed to the forest floor. His gaze is careful as he meets my eyes, the beautiful brown orbs communicating an apology his mouth will never admit to.
I don’t have to forgive him for intentionally frightening me. I don’t owe this man a thing.
But I’m not sure that’s the kind of person I wish to be. I don’t want to walk around carrying grudges that are far heavier for me than the person who offended me. “I forgive you for nearly attacking me,” I tell him.
This is clearly the wrong thing to say, but I don’t regret it. He snorts his displeasure, as if he doesn’t need my forgiveness. To communicate anything more, he would have to shift back into his man form, and I’m pretty sure he’s done with the burden of conversation.
We walk through forest separated by a few feet of respectful distance until my heartrate slows to a normal pace. I don’t want to wish I could be closer, but my insides tug me toward him, even as my body resists.
I probably am not allowed to stroke his fur, but I wish I could. It looks so soft.
The nearer we get to the edge of the forest, the more I feel the breeze from the ocean on the other side of the city by the towering mountain. The coolness wafts over my bare arms.
I can see my path better now, though I am still careful with my footing as I step over complicated root systems. This place wears the look of ancient magic like a cozy sweater. On the edge that butts up to the normal world, it’s a pleasant enough looking woodland area with mudded pathways for joggers to enjoy. But on this side, it’s a whole different story. The trees are fatter, knotted in odd shapes that twist like fiendish hands in a horror movie. The roots wind in and out of the earth like snakes on the search for their next meal to devour. I shiver as I move carefully forward into a world I have been told about but haven’t seen with my own eyes.
Leo closes the gap between us, warming my side with his black fur that is every bit as thick as it is luxurious. I guess our silent rule of no touching gets to fall by the wayside, which suits me just fine.
I shouldn’t want to climb up on top of Leo and wrap my arms and legs around him. I shouldn’t want to childishly ride on his back like a horse. I definitely shouldn’t pet him like a dog.
But I really want to do all of those things.
I settle for letting my knuckles graze his thick fur.
Just as soft as I’d hoped.
There is no magical portal separating Grayrock City from the rest of the world, but there are enough wards up to make regular humans want to turn back from whence they came. Fern explained the way of the worlds to me but experiencing it firsthand is a whole other wonder.
Though it is still nighttime, Leo is careful as he looks this way and that, searching out people who might prove problematic in getting me into his condo without detection. He motions to the right, but my feet stay planted where they are when my gut tugs me to the left.
I don’t know how to explain my gut to him. I’m not even sure if I should. But being that we’re stuck with each other, I decide to paraphrase as best I can a phenomenon I barely understand myself. “Would you mind if we took the scenic route?”
He paws at the dirt, letting me know that it’s best to get where we need to go, so he can grab a set of clothes.
It’s selfish of me to listen to my gut over his discomfort, but I suppose that’s who I am in this moment.
I tap my stomach, grimacing as I stumble through a layman’s explanation. “Every now and then, I get this pull in my stomach when I need to go a certain way for a reason I don’t totally understand. For whatever reason, my gut wants us to go this way to get to your place.” My fingers twist as I do my best not to come across as dictatorial. “I know it’s weird.”
He harrumphs, his head jiggling from side to side dramatically, but he consents to my odd request. We’re both tired, but being that we’re very new to each other, I’m grateful he’s giving me this. When my gut acts up and I try to ignore it, things get infinitely worse.
I try not to think on that for more than a few seconds, lest regret weigh me down like a ton of bricks.
As we take the longer route around the city to Leo’s condo, I am extra mindful of my surroundings. Whatever it is I am supposed to see, I want to witness it so this tug can go away.
Grayrock City is unlike any place in the normal world, yet there’s a déjà vu that rocks me, widening my eyes. The details are all from an era long ago, but with modern comforts added in.
I’ve seen this before. Where have I seen this? I couldn’t possibly have a memory of this place; I’ve never been here before.
I spot a strip of stores with various telling titles to them, such as Whitney’s Herbs and Potions, Broom and Hair Care (which looks to be a hair salon and a place to get materials for seasonal brooms meant for warding a house), and various other stores that are all geared toward witches. The buildings themselves are equal parts form and function, whereas these days, commercial architecture is purely function. Corinthian pillars support terraces and awnings with curled leafy details to the spires. The whole place smells of pine, which brings a coziness to the chilled air that comes in from the ocean, even though it is miles from where we stand.
As we walk, I get to see entire blocks of nature-themed homes that look purposefully joined together with just enough separation between walls to differentiate one person’s home from another. The log structures have vines creeping up the sides, as if nature itself is trying to conceal the witches from the world.
