Page 18 of Escape from the Green

There had been a hunt the summer before, dozens of our kind slaughtered for their blood, their teeth, their plates, parts ripped off of still-living bodies, leaving who was left to scramble away lest they be forced to burn down entire villages, killing innocents in the name of taking out one of the guilty.

They were odds our elders had chosen not to take, burdens they did not want on their souls.

So the veil had been created, appearing to others like a festering swamp, boiling hot, impossible to cross.

And our kind had lived behind it for generation after generation, isolated from the world. Our wings were forced to become accustomed to small spaces, to cramped flying when we were meant to have the whole sky.

But it was safe.

And our consciences were clear.

That was what mattered most.

I wanted to know if the veil held. Or if it had broken, and my kind had been annihilated.

The very idea made my stomach twist into a knot, making nausea rise up my throat.

I couldn't let my mind go there.

What was left for me if not hope?

Hope could help me trudge through this infernal snow, could burn a fire within me to keep myself - and Amy - warm through our journey.

So I was going to let myself hold onto it.

Even if that was perhaps naive of me.

As predicted, the winds had knocked endless pine branches free, their needles the only thing to keep us protected.

I heard a shuffling, a scraping, like something breaking through the icy top layer of snow. Turning, I looked down, finding something red poking out, just an inch or so at first, then more, and more.

A hat.

A pointed red hat.

I felt my lips curling up, unable to stop it, finding myself perhaps a bit childishly excited at the idea of seeing a gnome.

Having been as isolated as I had been for so long, I hadn't seen much of anything except the guards, the family, and that beast of Cece's - a barguest.

I watched, frozen in place with curiosity even though I knew I was supposed to be rushing back, seeing a laughably wrinkled forehead follow the hat, then almost beady brown eyes, ruddy, fat cheeks, a rounded jaw.

His hands rose out of the white snow, planting knobby fingers in the snow, hauling a pudgy midsection out of the ground, a tight red belt making his belly roll.

He stood, brushing the snow off, twittering about how hard traveling was in the cold season, reaching to pat the brown satchel settled at his side.

"Oh, good, good. There it is. Safe and sound." Flipping open the bag, his hand went in, dragging out a small, twitchy-nosed mouse, the ears laughably oversized, a small compress wrapped around his obviously shortened tail. "Getting you some nuts," he promised, rubbing his fingertip over its whiskers before tucking it back into the satchel, securing the top. "Oh, Draca," he declared, very matter-of-factly, as he finally noticed me. "Red, hm?" he asked, nodding like he already knew the answer, making me feel suddenly naked before him, as absurd as that was. "Very nice to see one of you again." His head lifted, ear raised as though he was listening to the air. "Hungry fae 'round these parts," he told me, making my spine stiffen.

"Amy," I hissed, turning, running without even realizing I was dragging the pine limbs along with me.

The snow felt suddenly thicker as I tried to close the distance I had put between us.

Too much.

I said I would stay close.

I had gone far, way too far.

But close enough, I had been sure, to hear her if she screamed.