Chapter Text
Mei perceived the scent of ripe apples on the autumn winds, chilled and distant. She carried on leisurely into the twilight of the ending day, content to sit by the fire tonight— after she scored a few dozen ripe apples for last-minute preserves. If she'd heard— overheard— right last night, that revelrous group of satyrs planned to return again this year.
Happy satyrs were mirthful, generous, if not a bit flirtatious. With their dusky horns and glowing, eerie eyes, cloven hooves and downy had little currency in gold to wager, but their caravans always brought in rich, exotic trades from all across the lands, past the mountains and over the dark seas.
A cold gust raced between her thighs and billowed her black dress high. She clutched her skirts, wings fluttering in the stimulating breeze. The clear river beside her bubbled cheerfully, the lazy current floating with leaves and fat fish— and a friendly face.
"Satya!" She gasped, scowling halfheartedly when the waters broke, her nymph friend rising to the cusp with a laugh. She rested her arms on the grassy bank, her lean form seeming to disappear into the river. Gossamer black hair clung in thick rivulets she flicked from her shimmering face. "You scare me every time with this."
Satya absently plucked a mushroom, bringing it to her rose pink lips for a nibble. "Won't you forgive me, you are my favorite fey after all." She offered with a grin, sharp teeth making quick work of her morsel. "Besides, I've got great news, and I've got fantastic news."
Mei quirked a brow, passing a precautionary glance to the setting sun before taking seat on the river bank. "Ahh, what is it then?" Finding it ever impossible to slip out of conversation with the nymph, especially when she always had gossip from upstream and onward.
But Satya's beaming face said more than anything. She looked blissful. Content. Well-kissed.
Another mushroom swiftly devoured. "Well…" She rolled her shoulders like a young girl, green and high on the promise of life and love. "You remember my Russian, yes? The werewolf I mentioned— "
"Mentioned?" Mei teased, recalling exactly how often Satya mentioned her Russian. If she wasn't chittering on about nymphet gossip, she was amorously replaying how her werewolf lover snatched her from the arms of death, before snatching her heart, too, it seemed.
Satya purred, sinking into the water to laugh bubbles beneath the surface, earning a roll of Mei's eyes. She whirled her wrist, signaling her to continue. For all Mei's bristling at her lovesick companion, she yearned for that connection. Just a taste…
To know devotion like that, it had to be sublime.
Satya rose back up from the waters, her breasts slick and sporting bite marks proudly. "She tells me we are fated. That I'm her one true." The ruin in Satya's voice almost had Mei fanning herself. "She's procured a home for us. Lands that are cleaved by this very river!" The excitement, the joy. Why did it make Mei's stomach roil?
Because I want it so badly.
No. She needed to cast aside her selfish emotions. Satya was ecstatic and vulnerable in her happiness; the least Mei could afford was kindness.
"She has a bathing pool for you, right? At least a sizable bath house. I want my Satya in nothing but the finest. Especially if you're to be- be swept away by some werewolf!"
More laughter spilled from her friend, a heavenly sound, a contagious one. "Of course! You know I wouldn't have settled for anything less. From what she promises, the valley cottage is atop a river."
Mei scoffed playfully. "So it is?"
"A wading pool extending from the back, wooden porch sloping gently into the waters." She made a sweeping motion with her hand. "I needn't but swim up and into her arms and I'm home." Her words sounded not her own, as if she were repeating what her werewolf had spoken. When Satya said 'home' another pang shot through Mei's heart.
Mei nodded her along, keeping the darkening day in mind. If she left now, she'd make it back before the night fell pitch black in the forest. Hopefully. "I'm so happy for you, Satya. Finding someone to protect, to protect you, it must be indescribable."
Satya looked far off, her shimmering eyes warm with her affections. "It is," she agreed, a hand over her own heart, brushing a thumb over her lovebites.
"This is just what you needed. A smoldering werewolf to sink your claws into."
"And never let go," Satya completed with a joyous laugh, waving her hand and merrily shaking her head, splashing Mei with river water. "Ah— but I'm rambling! The other good news, that satyr caravan isn't but a few leagues from here, their fisherman told me they were headed to your coven!"
"So I've heard! I'm making preparations now. Did you see anything good to trade for?" Satya had an eye for value, even though monetary worth meant nothing to her. Her kind was one of revelry and loyalty.
"Not in particular, some awfully plentiful crop they came upon this year, I will say. There were gourds larger than me tucked in those carts. Ah, but I saw something that might fancy you even more." She alluded with a wry smile, finger curling over her chin.
"And what might that be?" Mei asked, fingers delving in her pockets to estimate maximum apple capacity.
"Not a what, but a who. Remember that young satyr boy that took a shine to you? The hobbling one with the faux leg?"
"Little Jamison?" That devil had been the bane of her existence for approximately a day before she whipped him into shape. His entire clan had been purged by the titular Talon order. Only by the grace of their Matriarch were they offered a home. Overnight, their population had doubled, going from a coven of flora fey to an amalgam of denizens.
Little Jamison, the halfling with his chaffing baby horns and bleating laughs. He'd come barreling into her still adolescent life with hooves stamping and claws bared. A child full of anger, resentment for those that took his kin, and those who refused to do idiotic things to procure his revenge.
He'd been too young to understand the futility of his rage, going on and on about committing atrocities a boy shouldn't think of doing— and yet she could not help but sympathize. His anger had been honest, bared truthfully to her. He wanted to hurt those who hurt him, and how could she blame him for that?
"Sweetly innocent freckly child."
"You can quit callin' me that, not like you're that much older than me."
He'd bit and clawed and rammed his laurel horns into her oak walls, and for a moment she'd let him have his little reprieve. Burn off the brunt of his roiling emotion before she clutched him with both hands, heaving him off the ground and dragging him in close for a crushing embrace.
He'd screamed against her, ballistic and struggling to free himself from her affection, hoof kicking out and connecting with her knee. She'd buckled, but wouldn't release him. Not until he understood. Jamison choked, smearing his snotty nose and tears on her while he sobbed, tiny body spent and sagging in her hold while he cried and cried and cried.
Satya's words broke her musings, "Well, he's not exactly little Jamison any more." She corrected, picking mushroom from her fangs. "Immortality hit the male hard." Her tone suggesting, eyes seeking Mei's.
She shrugged, a final look at the near setting sun before she sighed. She stood just as Satya waded further into the waters. "Be careful for the rain, fey, I smell it strong tonight." Her friend advised caringly.
Mei canted her head to the clouding skies with a frown. She hadn't even noticed the storm gathering. "Are you a soothsayer or a nymph?" Mei asked, earning a mischievous tug to her skirts.
"I'll pull you in here and we can find out together." Her perfectly arched brows rose in faux temptation. Before Mei could attempt to wrangle her by the frills, Satya disappeared beneath the surface, leaving no currents in her wake— after spitting water at her between her teeth.
Mei ached to throttle her thin neck, but it'd have to wait till next time. For now, she thought on the definite prospect of that returning satyr clan. If she'd had just another month to prepare! She'd have to make due with what goods she had now, with her most promising bid laying in her next harvest. Their visits weren't annual like they'd been a decade ago. It could be years between before another arrival— not at all predictable.
She dallied on fantasies of exotic goods in store for her on those horse-drawn wagons. She treated herself whenever possible to a different sweet, like the blood candies of Silk Country— surprisingly decadent, those. Satyr were a generous sort, and she'd always gotten more than what she bargained for with them. Be it material, produce, or conversation.
Her nose wrinkled at the smell of rain falling ahead; her sharp ears flickered, perceiving the soft plip of each drop. The shower reached her now, misting her skin, leaving her damp and chilled while the sun struggled to remain awake, the sky fading to a wash of purple and orange. A rumble of thunder echoed in the sky, heatless and far off.
The ground sloped slightly, curving to the right of the expansive river, leading her uphill to a well-worn path she'd traveled time and time again. The rain increased a hint, the sound popping in her ears like static, but inhibiting her none as she progressed swiftly to the tiny orchard she desired. Tapering higher, Mei passed a glance down, down to the river bed below— keeping its depth in check, it wasn't uncommon for it to flood in a heavy storm.
She laughed aloud, gleeful when she came upon a towering tree out of the orchard, heavy and laden with ripe scarlet apples glistening in the downpour. The limbs sagged towards the ground— beckoning to be harvested. She needn't but float up a ways and pick to her heart's content. Her wings twinged, foreboding disaster if this shower turned to a torrent— where they'd be ultimately useless.
Thunder growled in warning before lightning heated the black sheet of clouds above. She tucked as many as she might into her dress, her pockets filled to the brim with fruit. The rainfall increased, damping her dress, and the material clung to her skin. She sucked her teeth, ceding to nature and turning homeward, satisfied with her payload. She could make do with a baker's dozen, she'd have to, seeing as the wind picked up, flicking drenched whipcords of her own hair across her face. She squinted against the lashes, batting back her mane, heart dropping when more thunder roared above her.
Mei put just a little spring in her step when lightning answered the thunder's call. Scents bombarded her, blurring her vision, sensory overload whispering portent in her ears. She tamped down the sprouting seed of anxiety, even as the clouds bottomed out and drenched her in seconds. Soaked to the bone, she ambled through the thickest curtain of rain she'd seen in years.
Night wouldn't arrive for another thirty minutes, but the roiling clouds above blocked out any hopes of light. She hastened back the way she came, trusting her sense of direction, her feel for the wood. Her feet trembled, faltering to catch on the now muddied path. She fluttered her wings for balance, finding none when the tendons in her back lanced with pain.
She hissed, apples falling from her hands while she nursed the flesh between her shoulder blades. It ached beneath her touch, no doubt a pinched tendon. A nerve. Anxiety was wont to bloom now; she could sense it tingling in her palms, in her spasming heart. She fought for control over her own action as panic set in.
Collect yourself! She commanded, willing her body to carry forward, to bring her home to her coven. Lena would be furious if she died alone in the woods. The thought of her dearest friend gave her the hope she needed, ushering her further into the darkness, the ground dipping, delivering her lower.
The river clamored loud above the rainfall, holding toe to toe with the booming thunder— the crack of lightning. Fear quickened as she neared the waterway. She'd need to head to higher ground; as much as she hated traveling the steeper paths with busted wings, this route simply wasn't safe anymore.
Mei grew impatient for lightning as she depended on it for light now. Each flash illuminated the scene around her, revealing the bulging river, greedy for rainwater. Sky-raking trees loomed above, seeming to pierce the clouds and bring the shower themselves. Even with the bolts lighting up the night, Mei could no longer see past the wall of rain.
She could hardly discern her hand before her face, let alone a dirt path to safer landings. She cast aside hesitation for action, bottling her terror right up and using it for kindling. She raced ahead, away, from the river. As was second nature, she leapt to soar— praying to even glide.
Mei grit her teeth at the onslaught of pain. Her wings snapped tendons in her back with the force they exerted— and still, she could not lift but a meter off the ground. The rain beat down mercilessly, screaming in her sensitive ears, untethered by the treetops as the droplets fell. Water had begun pooling beneath her feet, promising a deadly current if she didn't head uphill fast.
She cried in exasperation and tore off into the blinding storm, head bent and hands outstretched for anchorage as she clambered up hill face. Pockets of slick mud gave way beneath her, ruining her knees and fingernails while she slipped.
Lightning cracked overhead, making her flinch and raising the hairs on her nape. Her wings vibrated ominously as more threatened to strike. She had no choice but to climb for higher ground; she'd rather risk the chance of getting struck than the surety of the river flooding.
Her feet faltered beneath her, her nails catching on furled roots. She stifled another cry, swallowing it as she hammered upward, toes sinking into mud for any traction. Gradually, the incline sloped, she crested the top, wasn't but an arm's length away. If her sense of direction wasn't entirely buggered, then the road she needed to travel was just ahead.
Hope burned brighter in her constricting chest, weak and unpromising— even when she fell downward a spell, slipping on her backside before snaring a root growing above ground. She looked heavenward, squinting in the heavy rain drops falling. Thunder rocked loud enough to send her ears ringing; a bolt of lightning followed, unseen after it disappeared into the forest canopy. Her poor night vision waned in the downpour, nearly useless.
Her ears flickered. Those far-off hoof-beats grew louder and louder, mingling with the rasp of rain on brittle leaves, the dim howling of her clan, no doubt frolicking in the chaos. She couldn't see past the curtain of rain, but she could hear the river beneath her roiling, filling higher.
Panic had long set in, but Mei beat down the worst of it. Instinct rose above the rest, demanding her to move, to fight for higher ground, and she obeyed. She tried a final time with her wings, pumping them harder than she imagined she could, her face flushing hot despite the icy rain. The muscles in her back and her calves throbbed dully, a choking numbness already setting in.
And she'd wanted nothing more than to lounge by the fire and eat apple pie.
She hadn't the time to pity herself, not now. She glanced, blinking as she struggled to find which way led. She was forced to hold herself up, leaving her feet dangling for a frightening moment while she hauled. She found leverage once more, taking a breath to herself, eyes falling shut.
As if it were even possible, the tempest brewing in the sky above grew heavier. Rain slickened the roots in her trembling gasp, thunder clapped repeatedly, lightning always following. Her sodden dress drooped with the weight of apples. She cursed, readying to be rid of her attire all together and run home nude, relying on scent alone.
The noise of the storm drowned the far-off hoof-beats, leaving her with little time for decision as the river flooded beneath her, lapping hungrily not far below. She swallowed thickly as a red apple tumbled down into the waters, whisked away before she could think to move.
She beat her wings, the storm answering her struggle with a tailwind that forced her to yield, hiding her face from the bruising rain. Her body sung its displeasure, numbing and chilling and aching; locking up her joints.
Not today. She swore to herself, nodding her tired head and glowering at the task at hand. Teeth bared, she reach for a low hanging branch, testing her weight before heaving with all of her might— lightning struck the hilltop she clambered for, making her shriek as rock and dirt hurtled in all directions, pummeling her..
Mei's grip did not falter, but the branch tight in her fist snapped. She tried to scream, finding she'd lost her voice in her horror. She reached wildly for nothing, hands grasping air as she teetered backwards. With a desperate thrash, she angled flush against the hillside, praying to any goddess that might hear as she plummeted.
Jamison Fawkes cursed at the rain falling round him as he hurried towards a steadily moving caravan. He tossed his bundled cargo as gently as he might, wincing when metal scrapped glass. Phials busted, staining the satchel with oozing potions. Scratching it up as a hefty loss, he readied to jump for the shelter of the wagon— a sense of dread fell on him, stalling him before he sidled safely inside, legs hanging over the back, swinging in the downpour.
Their caravan had set off for higher ground hours before the torrent, watchful eyes never leaving the bulging river below. He peered absently as three apples rushed downstream, pummeled into bits against the mighty stones jutting from the water.
He whistled to pass the time, snatching his bag to inspect the damage done. He winced to find half his splendor shattered, the herbal miasma wafting out nearly choked him, watering his eyes and clearing his sinuses. He frowned, accessing every pain aide he'd brought along had been utterly ruined— well, all but one. He swallowed thickly, another fit of dread gnawing in his stomach before he tamped it.
You'll endure.
A phantom pang seized what remained of his left arm, stifled when his ears flickered, perceiving a faint cry in the storm around. He paused his musings, setting his sachet aside. Hand clutching the wagon's base as he poked his head out for a better listen, albeit the rain dimmed almost all else.
Jamison squinted, ready to retreat when he heard yet another helpless cry. His body tensed for a jump, landing him in a rivulet of mud. Hoof and prosthetic sinking deep. He hoisted one leg at a time, earning him a few laughs from the caravan ahead. He scowled right back.
"None of you hear that?" He asked, astounded, brows furrowed. A questioning glance from his fellow satyrs said a keen 'No." He scented the rain, mountain fragrance overwhelming like always, but something else rode on the wind, too. A sweetened aroma that rang soft, lulling him a ways to the right— towards the river.
He canted his head down the steep incline they traversed, searching, eyes darting through the storm's curtain. He tread on grass, joints of his prosthetic creaking loudly with dampness. He hobbled further ahead, his kin paying him no mind.
Jamison grew anxious when he heard no more cries, he thought to call out, but the idea of him waltzing about in a chilly downpour searching for phantom cries was silly enough— let alone shouting out to them. He gave his search another few minutes before shrugging it off and setting towards his caravan— till he heard one terrified outburst, a sputtering, exhausted mewl resounding from just below him.
Jamison clutched a tree for anchorage before peering down the steeply sloping hill face, the wide river flooding steadily at the bottom, choppy and angry. And against the hill side, stood a trembling fey, soaked to the bones and clinging to the incline.
A consuming panic set in— not for himself, but for her. He wasted no time, seeing as all she had between her and the hungry river below were a tree root and a swift plummet. He'd wondered why she hadn't just flown off, but his brows furrowed when he saw her pretty wings gnarled, locked and jagged. The iridescent coat lackluster in shredded patches, tearing in the gale.
"Don't move." He reassured her, voice too low for her to hear in the chaos. His body would be built for this if he'd still had a left leg to call his own, or his left arm for fuck's sake. But when he saw the dainty creature close her tired eyes, mouth moving slowly as she no doubt prayed for strength, one thought rose in his mind. Protect.
Jamison shifted his weight, levering to grab a low branch rung on a bordering tree. With one clean motion, he ducked beneath the limb and swept his legs over the edge. His back met muddy incline and he let himself slip till his hoof caught a sturdy root and he could release his hold on the tree.
He peered down, immediately regretting it as the distance to the bottom appeared twice as large as his earlier assessment. Earth gave way beneath him, showering down on the soaked fey. Regrettable, but it caught her attention. She peered up at him, slowly, from beneath her dark lashes. She blinked, expressionless, as if in disbelief. Trying to speak before simply offering him her delicate hand to take and haul her to safety.
So trusting.
His heart seized tightly in his chest. "Stay still." He warned, casting her a halting glare. "I'm commin' to you, alright? Just. Stay." The longer he looked at this enchanting creature's sweet face, the more he liked it. And recognized it?
Real pretty. Why would she ever traverse these woods alone?
Her piercing gaze never left him, following his every move with bated breath. He advanced carefully, precisely, steadily growing closer to her. With a second's worth of free-fall, he was at her side— balanced steadily on a root just above hers.
"Good. Good." He praised her, shuffling as close as he could without tumbling face first into raging river. He swallowed audibly, measuring distance. "Look at me, sweetheart. I'm gonna need you to meet me halfway." A soothing tone sounded awkward, and he prayed he came across more saviour-esc than 'creepy pent-up goat demon'.
But she nodded. Her pink bottom lip pinched between her teeth, a flicker of resolve in her warm eyes. "What do I...what do I have to do?" The fey chanced a looked down, body shuddering as she did so.
"Look at me," He all but snapped when he saw fear wrought her face. "I need you to jump." Into my arms as bad as that sounds. Horror washed over her features, utter terror, freezing her in place. "I'm going to grab you before you even finish your leap, I swear."
This seemed to put her at a little ease, she no doubt weighed her options. "You swear it, then?" Lightning crackled in the sky, striking the wood nearby.
Jamison inclined his head in agreement. "You'll be back with your little fey friends in no time. Frolickin'," He extended his arm, fingertips grazing her soft sides. Such a tiny thing. "Laughin'. Dancin'." He nodded towards her. "How's 'at sound?"
The fey looked up to him, raw, fierce determination colored her lovely face. And she leapt.
Jamison did as promised, he snatched her to him nigh possessively while she clung to him, innocently, both arms secured around his neck, face burrowed in his collar. "Perfect." She answered back, tender voice breaking on a sob of relief.
Gods, this woman smelled right. He brought her flush to him, his hand clasped her, swept lower, beneath her legs. She gasped when he toted her bridal style, cradling her head in the crook of his arm. His heart beat faster and yet sluggish when she rest her cheek to his rain slickened chest. Satisfaction surged though him like nothing else.
Jamison canted his head to the incline shadowing them. He'd never been more grateful for his keen night vision. With one powerful kick, he sent them both half ways up. She jostled in his arms, crying out and squeezing him tighter.
Protect.
He grit his teeth on the slick landing, the sodden earth sunk beneath him. They slipped, but he fought for balance, conquering with another strong jump. Every leap sent him awash in the exquisite fragrance of her hair. A final jump and they crested the top, leaving him only a hint winded.
Once on flat land, his bearings regained, he felt the overwhelming need to cosset her, to pet her damp hair from her face, to coo gentle words to her. To lick the drops of rain from her pale skin. "Brave girl." Jamison exalted, stealing a breath of her before setting her easily to her feet. She wobbled, but with a firm grip on his good arm, she stood— before collapsing right to the mud, which just wouldn't do.
One clean movement had her in his arms again, earning him a half-hearted protest in the form of a groan, a light tap-tap to his chest. He couldn't help but chuckle in response, spying the light of his caravan not a league ahead. He'd feel better to have her safe and secured out of this rain, which lightened miraculously, enough for her to rest her exhausted head without drowning in downpour.
"She'll be alright." He promised. With the threat of death no longer looming overhead, he could better focus on his new companion. Her alluring eyes half-mast, unfocused, untrained in the darkness. Jamison could see her clearly now: the soft curve of her chin, the flushed apples of her cheeks, her impossibly kissable mouth. Even the sharp tips of her ears had his pulse quickening. Every detail of her...perfection. From the bare tips of her toes, to the aromatic crown of her hair. Her plump lips, slightly parted, accented by a deviating...scar?
Jamison came to a standstill. Recognition dawning on him hard enough to send him reeling. He blinked, shaking his head once. Twice. "Mei?" He spoke her name like a wishful prayer.
She'd tensed when his pace came to a halt, looking up to him when he spoke. Bewildered. Confused. Then, hopeful. "That accent…" She breathed in response, arms reaching up to grasp his— "These horns!" A smile bloomed on her face, taking any air he had left in his lungs. Swiftly. Her soft palms rubbing along his horns did more to him than she was aware. She touched curiously in the dark, sticking her thumb in his mouth to rub his sharpened teeth. "And those eyes…" She trailed, as if she were afraid to say his name.
But Jamison wouldn't move until he'd heard her say it.