Pluck (The Woodswalker Novels) Page 5

  “Hello,” she said. He did not speak, but gave a tired smile.

  She was relieved to see that he had actually been picking berries. Once again she felt guilty for judging him. She hobbled over on her crutches. After being in the woods for almost two weeks now (or was it more? Less? She cannot remember) she had not had anything sweet in quite some time. Her entire world was all bitter leaves and charred meat.

  “Can I ask you another question?” she asked. Again. He did not speak. His head nodded once, barely an inch.

  “Is this a genetic condition or a thing someone can become?” she asked finally. She had visions of vampire bites and werewolf scratches dancing in her head.

  “I was born this way.” He did not elaborate further.

  She popped one of the berries in her mouth. It’s juices tasted so strong. She wasn’t sure if it was because she hadn’t had anything sweet in so long or if the berries here were just better. All sense of dainty eating left her. She grabbed fistfuls of berries and ate them with fervor.

  He looked at her with interest. Slowly, he reached over to grab one. She paused in her gorging to watch him pop one in his mouth. He chewed slowly, thoughtfully. This was the first time she had seen him eat in his human form. His jaw movements were awkward, it was clear he was not used to chewing his food and was out of practice. He swallowed the berry. He did not reach for another one.

  She continued to eat berries as he prepared the doves. Instead of skinning them like he did the rats she usually eats, he carefully plucked the feathers away to reveal the white bumpy skin. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She did not understand why. She looked away, confused.

  He cooked up both of the small doves, the fat dripped down to sizzle on the burners. The smell was intoxicating. He gathered up the remaining food onto his least chipped plate and walked out onto the porch. Briar sighed.

  I guess we are eating the porch, she thought. She hobbled out into the fresh night breeze to sit with him on the steps.

  There wasn’t much to look at in the forest at this time of night. The line of trees was one solid mass of writhing darkness. She was too afraid to look deeper, for fear she would see the eyes. She tried to look above, to focus on the countless stars in the sky. But still, the thought persisted.

  She began to eat the first dove. She definitely liked it better than rats. What do the fancy people call it? Squab.

  “How is your leg?” he said quietly. She placed her food back on her plate.

  “I try not to think about it.” She laughed breathlessly. His hands go around her thigh, carefully lifting the fabric from the wound. It was still struggling to knit itself together.

  “Thank you for being understanding,” he whispered as he pulled away from her.

  “About what?” she asked. Briar did not feel very understanding. Her life became a cluster of questions she felt she could not untangle.

  “About me not talking that much.” He said. Briar let out a heavy sigh. She was glad he knew he was being difficult. “I appreciate it a lot.”

  “I still want to know more about you,” she said gently.

  They sat there in each other's silent company until a late night storm rolled in. They heard the thunder off in the distance. Quiet at first, until it felt like the very earth around them was shaking. Hard rain fell through the cracks in the decaying porch.

  “You go inside and stay warm, I’m going to rinse off in the rain a little. I’ll be right in.” He told her, standing.

  She obliged him, getting up on shaky legs to hobble inside. The scene was not much better once inside. At various points in the cabin water leaked through. All of his possessions were laid out with this in mind, water darting between piles of lanterns and crystals. No wonder he was particular about where they were laid out.

  She was glad to see the one solid part of the roof protecting the pile of furs. When he came inside he was dripping wet, but cleaner than he had been in a while. Her eyes followed the trail of water drops down his torso. He attempted to climb into the makeshift bed with her. She wrinkled her nose.

  “You are going to get the furs all wet!” She complained in good spirits, placing her hands on his chest as if to shove him off.

  They were both surprised. They had only ever touched out of necessity before. She gave a halfhearted shove, but her hands stayed there. She could feel his heartbeat on her fingertips, right where she expected it to be. He leaned in closer, watching her keenly.

  Closer. She matched his lean, until they are so close she can no longer see both eyes. She thought his breath would be hot on her face, but he was holding it in.

  Closer. She got as close as she could, but did not want to continue. She closed her eyes, and waited.

  Closer. After a heartbeat or two she felt him close the gap. His lips were soft, still damp from the rain. It’s clear he did not know what he was doing. It still made her heart beat faster. She felt young again in that moment, a child stealing kisses under the sheets at a sleepover.

  She laid back down more comfortably, so he followed suit. He really was ruining the bed, but she did not care at this point. They kissed softly once more. She turned over to turn off the lantern.

  They laid in the dark, her hand still resting above his heart. She tried to focus on the sound of the rain rattling through the cabin, but sleep cannot reach her. His eyes glowed softly in the space between them.

  Hello

  The trees were still, no wind disturbed their rest. It was not yet fully in shadow, the tree tops were fully bathed in the glow of sunset. Briar sat quietly amongst the wood rot of the porch.

  She imagined people with flashlights coming back to their base, shaking their heads at her mother after another day of nothing. She hoped they were not spending too much resources trying to find her. On the other hand, the thought of people she had never met thinking of her brought her a strange shade of joy.

  The violent reds and pinks began to fade from the sky. The wind picking up to pull leaves from the trees. The world shifted to his benefit. But still, he continued to sleep.

  She hadn’t expected to be out there that long, and had not brought a lantern. The stars poke through between patches of inky clouds. The throbbing patch of darkened trees set her on edge but still, she waited.

  Finally, she heard movement from inside the pitch black cabin. The form that greeted her on the porch was not the man, but the owl. He spread his wings without a sound and took off. Briar watched in quiet dread.

  She made her way back into the darkened cabin. She somehow made her way back to her pile of furs without serious injury. Worried hands groped around in the patchy moonlight for a working lantern. She clicked it on.

  Her hand went up to her parted lips. It had been a few years since she had shared a first kiss. In fact, her last first kiss was one stolen from her one rough night in college. All of her other kisses were recycled from past relationships until they hardly felt new.

  A sudden flap of wings drew her attention. She sat up straighter. She hoped there would be food. The bird who landed on the table was not an owl however, but a very large crow. The animal looked at her with interest. It was missing a talon on it’s right foot, leaving a shock of white flesh behind.

  “Hello,” it croaked out, bobbing its head slightly.

  As it drew close enough that she could reach out her arm to touch it she realized it’s eyes did not glow. They held an intelligent spark, but were not the eyes of a woodswalker. The crow hopped off the table with purpose, its odd number of talons making a soft clack on the wood as it crossed the room in front of her.

  “Hi there,” she said politely.

  It jumped onto one of the piles of crystals resting besides lumps of windbreakers and across from a small pile of pottery shards. It’s thick beak gnawed at the stones with interest as if deciding which one was the prettiest.

  Briar wondered if she should be stopping it.

  The crow’s odd talons clacked against the rocks as it moved clos
er to her. Briar shuffled closer in response. There was something about the inky bird that interested her. A crow had never let her get this close before.

  “Hello,” it croaked loudly, causing Briar to stumble backwards. There seemed to be laughter in its blue eyes as it let out a wordless caw.

  A monstrous shadow darted in front of her lantern. She turned away from the crow just in time to see her owl fly in. The crow quickly grabbed a small purple crystal and flew out, cawing angrily. He transformed in an explosion of anger and feathers. He was not quick enough to catch it.

  “Crow’s aren’t like you?” she asked quickly. She stared at the hole where the large bird had disappeared through.

  “No. They are thieving assholes,” he said, his nose crinkled in anger. Briar was taken aback. It’s the first time he had cussed in front of her. It was strange, hearing him speak so casually.

  “Not what I meant,” she said. “They aren’t woodswalkers like you?”

  He considered it for a moment. “No, why would they be?”

  “They are just so intelligent, compared to many other species,” she said. Knowing what she knew now it seemed very silly to call some more intelligent than others. “I’d think if anyone would be secretly human, it would be the ones who can talk like us.”

  “Crows have their own stuff going on, to worry about a whole other skin,” he said. He walked over to the pile of crystals to look them over. His face twisted up in anger. He carefully rearranged the stones that were left until they were to his liking.

  “Where do you get all of those?” she asked.

  “One of the stores I go to in town is a rock store,” he said. He tried to work on preparing her food.

  “Where do you get the money to buy them?” she asked. He paused, knife in hand.

  “That is a lot of questions,” he said defensively, his back hunched over the dark fur of the squirrel he was skinning.

  “Well how are we supposed to talk, to get to know each other, if we cannot have a normal conversation?” Briar asked. Her voice was high and whining. She shut her eyes hard, embarrassed at her tone. She felt ashamed for having said anything.

  “You are right,” he whispered. His eyes were cast downward.

  “I’m sorry for yelling.” Briar sighed heavily. “I’m going a little crazy here without anything to do.”

  “You need your rest,” he said, “But I understand you need something. I don’t have guests often.”

  He got a look in his eyes. Briar watched with interest as he stumbled around the cabin with purpose. When he turned to show her he had a long box in his hands. He sat down on the floor in front of the box, patting the floor in front of him for her to follow. She eased herself onto the floor, grimacing as she had to move her leg.

  It was the game of life. Briar searched through the box and found most of the pieces were missing. There were a little of each kind of card, but the cars and little people were missing. She looked up at him, seeing the hope in his expression.

  “We need two different small objects. And some even smaller objects to play the children,” she said.

  He came back with two small milky crystals and a handful of small teeth. Briar nearly scattered them all across the cabin as he dropped them into her open palm. He insisted that they were clean, and that he did not have any smaller objects.

  He did not speak much. She read out the prompts for him and explained most of the concepts she thought he would not understand. Which turned out, were most of them.

  When she turned briefly to bring a lantern closer he placed more teeth in the pile in front of him. In the end she wasn’t sure which of them had won, illegitimate or not.

  ***

  When he awoke his jaw was set in a firm line. Despite what they had shared that night he was still upset with her for questioning him. As far as Briar could tell, that is. He never seemed to offer up an emotional response unless it was intentional.

  “You should go off and do your own thing today. Go stretch your wings,” she offered, although she doesn’t know what she would do with herself if he accepted.

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  She nodded, although she did not really mean it. He took quick strides to be back by her side. He gave her a quick peck on the lips. It took her by surprise. She smiled at him, almost giddy. He grabs his black bag with one foot.

  “I’ll be back at sunrise with food. Thank you.” He transformed right then before she could reply. Her stomach protested as he watched him fly straight through a hole in the wall.

  She carefully hobbled onto the porch with her light. Her leg sent shockwaves of pain with every accidental bump. She had found some rope amongst the piles. She used it to fasten a lantern into a very large and cumbersome necklace. With her contraption she could crutch her way around the place with her own personal source of light.

  She was more than a little proud of it. She placed it down next to her. It did not touch the gloom of the forest as much as she would like. At the very least, there was enough light to see anything that approached.

  She was nervous being outside doing exactly what he said she shouldn’t do. Not because she thought she was truly in danger, but because she did not want to have that conversation again.

  She looks out into the darkness until her eyes begin to play tricks on her.

  Her mind drifted away. The leaves rustled loudly along the damp earth. Briar snapped to attention, expecting her host to arrive. The eyes staring back at her were not the soft amber glow she was used to, but a bright red pinpoint. The same eyes who spied on her before.

  “Hey!” She called out, standing on wobbly crutches. She was not sure if she wanted to scare it away, or invite it closer.

  Unlike the response he would have her believe she would get, the eyes seemed to back away. Briar wandered closer. If her owl would not give her all the details she wanted, maybe she would just have to ask a different woodswalker.

  “Hey I'm talking to you! Come out!” She called, returning the lantern to her neck.

  Briar surprised herself as she crutched closer to the treeline. With how weak the lantern was she could not see what was out there unless she ventured much closer. She was already taking a gamble on her owl being wrong about the intentions of other woodswalkers. She might as well go all out.

  From the forest crawled a small white rat, it’s fur stark against the dark soil of the clearing. Briar had never seen a white rat outside of a pet store, or a science lab. As it went further into the light it grew and stretched until it became a small human girl.

  Her skin was barely a shade darker than paper, or a corpse. The small amount of hair she had was the same shocking white as her fur had been. She was small in stature, but definitely an adult. She came to Briar’s chest at full height. Her features were kind, but the glow in her rounded eyes was unsettling.

  In the pitch black of night with the strange yellow glow of the lantern the transformation was truly grotesque. The resulting woman was beautiful, but the small pile of white fur left behind at her feet disgusted her. Briar took a few steps back. Would she attack?

  “Hey,” Briar said, her voice wavering. She may have called her out of the trees, but she did not know what to do now.

  The creature stood up on shaky legs in front of her. She coughed deeply for a moment, unused to her new lungs.

  “Hello.” The woman replied. Her voice was light and sing song.

  “My name is Briar,” she said, reaching her hand out to shake. The rat girl places one of her cold hands into hers. She does not shake it, only holding it awkwardly. She blushed deeply. It was such a strange thing. A highway of veins ran across her arms.

  “I’m Pepper,” she said without hesitation. Briar smiled. So rats have names. But the owl man did not. It was strange, talking to a rat while she had been eating them for two weeks. She tried not to think about it.

  “Was that you out in the forest the other day?” Briar asked, releasing Pepper's hand. The pale woman nodded, looki
ng away bashfully. She seemed embarrassed by being caught. “Why didn’t you come out before?”

  “You were with the owl,” she said with a shrug. She plopped to the soil below. Briar followed suit, grateful for a break for her leg. She almost didn’t catch what she said.

  “But you are both woodwalkers right? Don’t you guys not… eat each other?” Briar asked. Pepper shook her head. Briar realized how much she did not know about this world.

  “We all used to be Woodswalkers. It has never stopped us,” she said. It did not seem like a big deal to her. Briar felt queasy. Has she eaten a creature she can have an actual conversation with? It should not make a difference to her, but it did.

  “You don’t seem bothered,” Briar said.

  “It’s just how it is. I think guilt is a human thing,” Pepper said.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Briar paused. “I don’t know anything about this.” She gestured at her companion, not knowing how else to say it. Pepper lit up. She seemed to take joy in her ignorance.

  “Well what would you like to know?” she asked, taking a sudden flop to lay on her stomach.

  Briar tried to be polite and not stare at her ass. She was reminded of sleepovers in middle school. Why didn’t adults have more of them that didn’t end in pregnancy scares? Her head was spinning. There was so much to know and barely any time to know it all.

  “Can every animal do this?” She wondered why she hadn’t asked this before. It seems like really important information. She thought of her cat secretly turning human when she left home. Oh god, her cat. She hoped the neighbor she paid to feed her cat noticed she hadn’t come back.

  The rat girl shook her head. Briar tried not to be disappointed.

  “Nope,” Pepper said.

  “Why?” Briar complained. The rat girl thought for a moment.

  “My community thinks that if you do not use your skins equally you may lose one or the other.” Pepper said with a shrug. “So some communities can never assume this form again, and some can never go back to their true skins.” Briar let that sink in for a moment.