In The Everwood

Many winters past, on Samhain no less, a golden dragon trodded in an enchanted forest, known as The Everwood. It was a dark and foggy night, illuminated only by the moon. She plodded along carefully, as these woods were said to be filled with all manner of preternatural creatures. And on Samhain, when the veil is thinned into a liminal gap, even more so.

The human folk called her Anbar, as her given name was unpronounceable in the common tongue. Much had changed throughout the course of her years. Dragons had gone from revered to feared, repeat. Her clan, The Fiáin, were of the chieftain class of dragons. Old, fierce, and infamous warriors since the beginning of the known era. Anbar had always chosen a path of timidity over hostility, which had earned her a reputation of weakness. She knew that when the time came, for the right purpose, she could be the fiercest of them all.

After making her way through the wood for some time, Anbar heard an eerie shrill. She shuddered and kept her head down, hoping to avoid whatever creature had made that curdling sound. Not keeping an eye on the horizon, Anbar happened upon one of the feared Fairy Mounds. She cursed under her breath for her mistake. She did not know much about Fae but she knew not to enter circles of mushrooms, or to tread upon Fairy Mounds. The Mounds were said to be portals to the Otherworld. No one seemed to know what exactly awaited in the Otherworld, just that it never seemed positive either.

Anbar stood motionless for a moment, wondering if she should walk straight through, or move backwards towards the edge of the Mound. Before she finished calculating which could be worse, she spotted the heap of blankets at the top of the little hill.

“Waaaaaaa,” the shrill sound echoed again.

Anbar almost jumped out of her scales. Then she realized that the sound had emanated from the blankets. How strange, she thought. With trepidation, she inched closer, hoping it was just her imagination running wild on a spooky night. She bent down and picked up the ornate covers. To her surprise, a child’s head popped up like a Jack-in-the-box! Sparkling, green eyes inspected her. Then a smile lit up the youngling’s face. Anbar would have mistaken her for a human had she not noticed pointy ears peeking out from the auburn curls. Anbar smiled back and assumed it to be a female child. Afterall, sometimes you just couldn’t be quite sure.

If Mounds can be portals to the Otherworld, maybe it works both ways, thought Anbar. Regardless, here was a creature no more than three years old if she was anything like human toddlers. The child had been all alone, and the night was getting cold. Anbar could already see her breath as it left her nostrils. She hastily decided to take the little girl with her. Although she felt that she would come to regret this moment.

“Celeste,” Anbar declared. “Yes, Celeste suits you just fine.”

The now-named cooed and reached out a tiny hand to touch the golden scales. Anbar tucked the digits back under the warm blankets and resumed her journey through the forest. The forest enveloped around them the deeper they went. Overhead, a raven squawked and cawed. Anbar shuddered. Ravens were known to be harbingers. She dared not wonder what the raven was prophesying. Anbar decided to place her passenger more inconspicuously as cargo to avoid attention.

All sorts of folklore began to play through her head as she searched for tales and memories that could assist her in getting the child returned to her rightful world. Tales involving Fae were always a bit on the mystical side, vague even. What came to mind most though were the stories meant to warn against falling asleep inside a Fairy Ring. Or was it laying against an enchanted tree? She couldn’t quite remember. Best to find an enchanted tree inside a Fairy Ring, she decided smugly.

After searching for a seeming eternity, she stumbled upon the circles of mushrooms colloquially referred to as Fairy Rings. It was like an entire field of Rings, beneath the secondary sky of tree boughs and branches, adorned with dancing leaves. She felt in her soul that somewhere amongst these ‘shrooms there must be an enchanted timber. As first light peeked through the green sky, Anbar spotted the Ash. She placed the toddler against the strong, elderly trunk. As she gingerly stepped out of the circle, Anbar began to sing a lullaby to Celeste. The adorable red-headed Fae-child closed her heavy eyes, and as dawn broke Samhain night, she disappeared from Anbar’s sight.