The Faewild

Eivlina crept through the thorny eaves of the woods, ears flicked back to dim the din of the small human sniffling its way behind her, fat fingers holding onto her tail like that of a rope in an uneasy wind.

Humans very rarely wandered into these woods, often taken captive and used for nefarious deeds by the fae as a reciprocated notion for the damage and destruction they had done to the Heartwood. Eivlina could remember the time several long moons ago — when she was younger, filled with more desire for vengeance — but now she was old, and the vitality that the younger fae had to reclaim the forgotten Heartwood was more of a danger than a noble cause. The older humans were smart enough not to go this deep into the forest, but this was a child, barely able to string two coherent words together. It had been wailing in the early dawn just past sunrise before Eivlina climbed down her tree to assume some semblance of responsibility for the child, lest a wayward fae get too bright of an idea at the sound of a lost child.

It tugged her tail again, and she dug her claws deep in the soft earth for patience. When it waned, she turned slowly back to the human, blowing thin mist through her nostrils.

“Have you no sense of direction enough to lead yourself?” She snorted, “Or manners, for that matter?”

The human stared at her with doe-eyes, awestruck as it moved towards her thin snout. She shook away the curious fingers with a low growl, but that did nothing to dissuade the thumb that shoved itself into her teeth. Eivlina spat out the appendage, moving forward. “Come, human— elsewhere with you.”

It sucked on its thumb and latched back onto her tail without a second thought, putting ducklings to shame for their instinct. It stayed quiet behind her, following her own indents in the mud, weaving into the darker glades with the passing of the sun. They were making decent time, however it took many breaks and nudges to get the human back on track. Too often it would release the grip on her tail to look at a small brook or start to chase after rabbits and squirrels, and Eivlina would have to leave the well-worn path to bound after it. The human was deceptively quick, and with recklessness like that it was no wonder they had been so lost they were driven deep enough into her own slice of the woods. It would be hard fought enough to get it to the grand iron gate that kept the humans out of the forest, and that was looking to be many days’ walk.

She could feel its attention wane further as the dense woods gave way to a glade. It was approaching sunset, the waking hours of the fae. Eivlina held sway within their fickle, bureaucratic politics, yet she had heard the new words they called her. Soft. Weak. Sympathetic towards the humans.

She hadn’t considered mercy to be a negative, but the times had changed with the wind. And there was a noise upon it now, causing her ears to flick forward. A sweet hum carried itself through the trees on the cool breeze, and she wrapped her tail around the human to still it.

Figures came alight in the distant clearing, giggles and stardust incarnate flitting from their wings as they danced among the ancient, scarred tree stumps in the center of the forest. The fae played their games — their deceptive debackles — but Eivlina could see them for their worth: their scheming ways to snap up any sort of advantage.

She glanced over at the human, a thumb stuck in its mouth as it watched the lights in awe. A human child so far in the woods was a rare encounter, and now she wondered if it had been the result of a third party, an interloper looking to gain the upper hand in a conflict beyond them.

“Eivlina!”

The wyrm quickly pulled the human back behind her, not shielding it within enough time as a fae sprung from behind a log near the edge of the clearing, honing in on her quickly.

“Sylian.”

“You brought me something?” He was bouncing on his heels, moving towards her and making a grasping gesture with his hands. “Oh— I’m quite sure I lost this one. You were right to bring it back to me.”

She let out a little hiss as she pulled the human away, curling around its body.

“You have no shame bringing a human child into these woods. What if the others came searching for it?”

“But Eivlina, this is our chance to actually make a difference in the fight—”

“There is no fight.” She growled as she wrapped a talon to bring the human closer, keeping her tone low so as to not attract the other faes’ attention towards them. “You weren’t alive when the world changed. You cannot bring a child into this artificial one you and the others seem keen on creating.”

“But if I took its’ form, I could go to the humans, perhaps convince them to return the Heartwood, or drive them away to get it back with their own flesh—”

A growl bled into her tone, dangerous. “The Heartwood is only a legend now. When we have lost so much, we look back to it to lift spirits. And now you use it as a rallying cry? You and the others need to look where you are now. This is the Heartwood now.”

Sylian did not seem to believe her, still reaching to wrap his hands around the child’s wrist. “Come now child, don’t you want to play?” She could feel the grip of the human tight on her own.

Something snapped within her and she lunged at Sylian, minding herself to get within a breath of his doll-like face. Cold mist drifted from her tightened jaw, and she slunk into the woods with her charge, leaving the fae awe-struck but thrumming with frustration.

The human was growing tired, and with every leap and bound over the roots and rocks of the forest she found it harder to get it to keep up. It tripped just before a brook and dissolved into sniffles and sobs, and Eivlina tried to nudge it back into standing, but it refused her and pushed away her snout.

“Don’t you fear your own life?” She chided it softly, but she received no response as it shook its head, and she stifled a sigh as she settled beside it. She could feel the human’s hands reach for her and she allowed the little fingers to rest within her mane. They were warm, like the little animals that would sleep with her in the high branches of the forest, and for a moment, she let herself relax. “You are infinitely trusting.”

The human let out its own affirming noise, seemingly understanding her comment, and it wasn’t long before its breaths were softer and spaced out. She put her head on its lap and drifted into her own quiet, yet tense sleep.

The days’ journey through the woods seemed endless and would have been faster if Eivlina had been a larger dragon, but for what she lacked in size, she made up for in other skills. The human had grown on her like a weed, and she had gotten used to its quirks, finding it easier to predict when it would spot something fascinating and take off. In turn she had guided it to fresh berries and tender muscadines that hung low from the branches of trees, not yet snatched by birds or a hungry fae. It would giggle and offer her some, then make its own mess of squashing them within its palms and offer it to her once again. Then she would take it to a nearby stream to wash off before setting off once again to the boundary of the forest and the iron human border.

On the third day, they came across a small meadow of soft grass and chittering crickets. The dusk came upon her like a warm lullaby and Eivlina swore she would only doze for a moment. As soon as she realized her mistake, she awoke — and the human, gone.

She panicked. There were no trampled plants, no footprints. Her nostrils flared and distantly she could smell the ether that was fae magic; crisp and sharp like frost. She dug her talons into the earth and flung herself forward, bounding over logs and trees to get her closer to the trail, sensing her gaining on the other with a deepening fear for the sake of the human child.

The wind whistled through her wings as she spotted a fae toting along the human like a prize, lifting its tiny sleeping body wrapped in an essence of magic. She bore down upon the fae and her lips curled at the sight of Sylian, claws outstretched as let out a howling roar.

Sylian dropped the human immediately as he was tackled by Eivlina, her claws clutching his throat and pinning him. His eyes were wide as he saw the peaceful, mindful dragon lose every ounce of tolerance she had for the fae in this very moment, with himself as the catalyst for her wraith.

“Eivlina—please. We can take back our home.”

“We already have a home. One that you are too blind to look at.” She hissed in his face, sending frost over his cheeks. “And now that you ripped this child from its own, it is my responsibility to return it. One that you will not be interfering with.”

Sylian flinched back under her words, and she swept back to go over the human. It was dazed but not injured, seeing Eivlina and letting out a noise she knew to be one of happiness as it grasped for her front legs. She nudged it up, but within a heartbeat she felt something bear down on her.

Whipping around, it was Sylian. Magic swirled in his hands and up his arms. His wings fluttered like a wasp’s as she readied a spell.

Eivlina let out a deep, primal growl that reverberated within her chest. “Leave. Now. Or else I will ensure you never return to the Heartwood.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

Sylian zipped past her, angling to get to the human but Eivlina was quicker. Her jaws closed around his leg and she flung him against one of the trees, quickly nudging the human to move quickly into the woods. She reared back upon the dazed fae and bore upon him with ice, encapsulating his limbs to pin him down. It would not hold him forever, but it would buy herself and the human enough time to get to the gate.

“You’re making a mistake, Eivlina!”

She ignored his words as she caught up to the human, guiding it with renewed anxieties as the trees eventually thinned to sprawling fields of wheat. The iron fence loomed before them, cold, daunting and artificial with every angular point that jutted into the forest.

Eivlina moved down the line, noting a small gap in the fence. It was enough for the small human to slip through — interesting, and possibly the cause for Sylian’s masterful plan considering he too could manage to get himself through it if he shrunk himself. She managed to get through the hole, scraping her hard scales against the sides until it gave way.

With the human following close behind, they crept through the wheat fields. Eivlina was waiting for a human to spring from nothingness, to pin her down and cage her as she had seen when the Heartwood had originally been destroyed. Her ears were back and every whispering breeze through the plains felt like a still rush of apprehension. It did not end when the sun cast long shadows on the houses of the village, and she waited in the shadows of it as the human toddled on into the village, making a cry that she knew all too well was for its mother.

Multiple humans then moved towards it, letting out shocked screams and shouts as it was lifted. For all they knew, it just appeared out of the wheat fields — from true nothingness — and they saw nothing of the dragon that crept through those same fields to return to her woods, to fix the wall and keep their worlds separate, until such a time where the humans and fae could repair what was lost; but for now, to keep away any wayward and wandering children from the woods.