I spread my fingers and delved into his fur, stroking it the wrong way so the hair tickled between my fingers. Changing directions, I smoothed it back down. He neither growled nor spoke, so I continued with my touch as we wound through black hallways until we entered a large muffled room. We walked several steps in, and then he stopped. Reluctantly, I released his tail. It felt like the first semi-friendly touch we’d shared where my role involved more than holding still.
“Light a candle and sit facing away from the door,” he said with a deep growl. “I will return shortly.”
He left, taking the mist with him. A sliver of light shone straight ahead, and I cautiously shuffled toward it. Heavy drapery met my touch, and I tentatively pushed it aside. The large, glass-paned window framed a beautiful view of a very overgrown yard.
My mouth dropped open as a tree—of sorts—scampered into view. Its white paper skin marked with black dots and raised lines reminded me of a birch’s bark. The fingers on her hands and the toes on her feet sprouted with leaves. Where hair should have streamed down her back, a cascade of wisp thin branches, heavily adorned with bright green spring leaves, grew instead. Her form looked very human, including two lumps on her main trunk to indicate breasts. A tree nymph.
Enthralled, I watched her spin and look over her shoulder with a smile. Another nymph came into view, this one obviously male, based on the short thick branch that extended from the area just above where the main trunk split into something resembling human legs.
The male nymph caught up to the female and spun her to face him. She tilted her head back with a wide smile, her leaf hair catching the light prettily. He grasped her behind the knee with one hand and drew her leg up over his hip. Between them, I could see his jutting root. The leg he had lifted melted into his trunk, solidifying the two into one. Slowly, he flexed forward, and I watched the root disappear. The scene left me warm as if I still sat in the hot waters at the Whispering Sisters. The male withdrew and flexed forward again. Both seemed to be enjoying it very much, and I felt a twinge of shame for watching.
Prying my fingers one by one from the curtain, I was about to let it drop when a dark mist came rolling in from the left. The male’s head shot up, turning unnaturally to look at the mist. When he saw it, he broke away from his partner and immediately solidified into a tree.
The female, however, did not solidify. Instead, with a small smile, she glanced at the mist, then bent forward. The position brought to memory—in vivid detail—how Ila had looked when she bent to pet the cat. The mist consumed the back half of the nymph, pouring over her like an angry wave. Bent forward as she was, I watched the nymph’s leaf hair sway as something pushed against her again and again.
Carefully, I let the curtain fall, hoping it wouldn’t draw the attention of any of the parties outside, and scrambled to find a candle and a book. I flopped onto a sofa, kicking my feet up in a relaxed pose, just as I heard the beast enter the room.
“What book did you choose?” he asked softly, with only a hint of a growl. His hand found my hair and gently tugged it out so he could stroke it. I could smell a hint of outdoors on him.
I couldn’t find my voice to speak. Lifting the book, I showed him the cover. I stared at it, too. A book on farming. My already thumping heart beat harder. Would he know now that I had seen them?
“This will be an enlightening hour,” he said, and I felt him settle on the floor by my head, his hands still running through my hair. He breathed in deeply again, and I knew he was smelling the oil Ila had rubbed into the strands.
“Proceed.”
After clearing my throat, I began to speak softly about a farmer’s woes and how to alleviate them.
More than an hour passed before I set the book on my chest. What most would find boring had interested me to the point that I’d forgotten the time and the hands running through my hair. When I ceased reading, the beast halted as well.
“Why have you stopped?” he demanded in a growl.
“I haven’t had anything to eat today and am thirsty,” I said softly.
He grunted his objection, but I heard him stand.
“Can I hold your tail again?” I asked, thinking of the dark halls.
The mist in the room suddenly churned so darkly it extinguished the candle. I recalled the scene outside the window and regretted my request. I sat up in concern and tentatively reached out a hand. Almost immediately, I connected with fur, more than I could wrap a hand around. Unsure what else to do, I trailed my fingers along the fur until I understood I touched his hip. I carefully trailed my hand further back and clasped his tail.
Through it all, he held still and said nothing. I whispered a quick apology. He began walking, and this time, I didn’t do more than hold his tail.