Chapter 13

Throwing some pieces of cut-up edible root into the stew pot, Sorrel glanced over at the forest mice sprites who were each using a makeshift wooden ladle to stir.

It'd been over two months since he'd found himself in the underground city belonging to all the burrowing sprites, but he'd rather be here than outside in the snow.

After leaving Jeffers' horrible menagerie to face the unforgiving world by himself, Sorrel had nearly frozen to death. He'd eaten what he could along the way as he walked with no idea which direction he should be going. There hadn't been much to eat, but he'd found some winter berries which seemed to have been safe.

It hadn't mattered at the time if they were.

He'd been starving and had been trying to eat anything to stave off the hunger. Random nuts, roots, and even leaves.

He couldn't remember the number of times he'd tripped, unused to traversing the unfamiliar, slippery terrain.

He wanted to go home, but he didn't see that happening when he realised he didn't know the way. The snow was colder than he could ever imagine. More dangerous than he'd ever realised. And he knew, understood, that it was going to get worse as winter deepened.

Afraid of what his future was like, or rather, if he even had one, he'd taken shelter within a hole – not realising in the foreboding dark that it was actually an entrance tunnel to a network of burrows belonging to sprites. But there had been no food and the only heat he had was within himself, and it weakened with every hour he shivered uncontrollably.

The week following his escape from Jeffers' creepy zoo had been horrible. Sorrel had eventually passed out from either hunger or the cold after days of suffering.

He hadn't expected the next time he woke up to be surrounded by blissful warmth. He'd thought he'd perhaps died and gone to some summer paradise, but when he opened his eyes, he found himself surrounded by dirt walls.

He was underground, a dim fire lighting the hole he was in, while a mouse sprite had been dabbing a wet cloth to his forehead. Sick with a terrible fever, he barely remembered asking her where he was, why he was still alive, who she was. He was half-delirious, and Cindy, his new friend, had nursed him back to health over the course of a week.

She'd tended to him by bathing him since he was too weak to move. She'd hand fed him spoonful after spoonful of soup until he could do it himself. His withered body eventually held its normal strength once more.

Since then, for the past two months, he'd been living with her and her sisters. The adjustment to living underground hadn't been easy.

Cindy gave him new clothing made from hide and leather and it kept him much warmer. He was just thankful that he was able to stop trembling from the cold, and he no longer felt as though ice was clutching his bones and freezing the very blood in his veins.

She spoke with him often to keep him company, explaining how he was lucky he'd crawled into their city's tunnels, rather than an animal's who likely would have eaten him. Or that he'd been discovered by someone who brought him deeper within the bowels of the network and offered to help him.

He'd needed someone like Cindy to rescue him, to remind the world and the people within it weren't as cruel as he'd come to discover. He needed someone to not leer at him, to not try to touch his body, to not compliment or insult him.

He needed someone to treat him like the outside of him wasn't important. That all that mattered was his kind heart and to have that kindness be returned.

Once he'd become well enough, she allowed him to venture throughout her home freely. The ground was covered in torn-up human clothing. It was scattered, making it colourful and soft as he walked over it.

The walls were made of dirt, but she hung random items on them or displayed things on little cupboards made from sticks and thread. A fancy button here. A marble there. She even had a barbie doll hand cupping a pearl – he didn't know where the rest of the doll was.

Before he knew it, the first month of winter had ended.

During the second month and into the last, she showed him the city network in which she lived. Her burrow connected with hundreds of others in what was called ‘Burrow City.'

Moles, mice, groundhog sprites. They lived with each other in harmony beneath the ground. Sometimes they lived together in huddled groups, like Cindy and her sisters.

Each burrow connected to a large, spacious area in the middle which opened up to a town. The ceiling was dirt with gnarly tree roots hanging down or netting across it. Buildings were made of clay, dirt, sticks, and fluff, but they were large enough to house many if they wanted to drink, dance, gamble, or just have dinner together.

There were restaurants, cafés, and even playgrounds for children sprites to play in.

What brought the beauty was all the jewellery, gems, and coins that lay about. Some buildings even used coins as doors.

They seemed unafraid of fire as it dimly lit the way. An area had caved in, and they used a long green glass wine bottle as a bridge.

Cindy had introduced Sorrel to so many people that he had a difficult time remembering their names, but they had all been friendly and welcoming. Well, mostly. Some had come across as darker and more frightening, but they had been in the background, as if Cindy knew not to introduce him to them.

The rat sprite – with a black eyepatch, crinkled whiskers, and two broken yellow front teeth – had sneered and hissed with hostility. He had no doubt that under the sprite's ripped trench coat, he'd been carrying some kind of weapon.

He also wasn't a fan of the many armed rat sprites he'd seen, who acted as soldiers to keep out any non-burrowing sprites.

Sorrel figured everywhere had good and bad people.

Currently, he was helping Cindy and her sisters make a stew for a celebration that was happening within the city part of the burrow. The mayor was holding a celebration in the hope of being re-elected.

As far as Sorrel was aware, though, everyone was already in favour of her. The male mole sprite she was running against was apparently some old, narrow-minded fool that no one trusted.

Cindy had asked Sorrel to help make the stew and, of course, he'd leapt at the opportunity to return her kindness. They were planning to bring the large pot they'd made to the centre, and it would go to feeding anyone who presented a bowl. Everyone within the burrow network was bringing food for the celebration.

The short mouse sprites gossiped as they moved. Two were stirring along with him, trying to entice him into joining their conversations. He didn't know the people they were speaking of, except for Miss Mole, so he kept his lips closed.

Another two, along with Cindy, were cutting up all the ingredients to go inside the bubbling liquid. Everyone chatted quickly, sometimes making it hard to follow even though they didn't seem to have any issues following conversations they seemingly weren't a part of.

They would gasp, giggle, and shout at each other.

Sorrel smiled to himself. It's chaos in here. But it was filled with sisterly love. It didn't matter to him that he wasn't joining in. Just witnessing it soothed his soul.

A knock at the door made all their heads turn.

Cindy, with her brown dress and strange little round straw hat, rushed to the door to open it, her furless tail dragging along the ground.

Like he'd conjured her with his thoughts, Cindy gave a bright smile and said, "Miss Mole, what are you doing here?"

"Hello, Cindy." She smiled before looking over her to see inside her little cottage-like home made of dirt and rugs. Cindy's sisters giggled when Miss Mole's eyes landed on him. He doubted she could see him, though; she was pretty near-sighted. "I just came to see how you were all doing. The celebration is about to start."

Her pink tendril nose twitched in his direction.

Like most in the burrow, she was furry. However, since she was a sprite from a bigger animal, she was taller than most. Most called her beautiful, but he just wasn't attracted to any of the sprites he'd ever met.

Sorrel wondered if that was because his heart already belonged to someone else, or if that was just the way he was.

They were strange and nice in their own way, but it was hard to see beauty in someone when his eyes were desperate to drink in the sight of someone else.

He'd once spoken to Cindy about his feelings, but she'd dismissed him straight away. She didn't like talking of flower fairies. She blamed them for the shortage of food they were currently dealing with.

Miss Mole was trying her hardest to feed everyone so that no one went without, which was another reason she was apparently holding this celebration. Winter was coming to an end, and the food was low. She wanted to give morale to all.

"We were just about to bring it out!" Cindy exclaimed. "Give us a short while to finish up, and we'll be there."

"Of course. I didn't mean to rush you." Her squinted eyes, like she was trying to see with her terrible vision, lingered on Sorrel before she left. "I'll see you all soon."

"I think she likes you, Sorrel," one of the sisters said with a laugh.

His face instantly reddened. He said nothing, as he was fearing the very possibility.

Miss Mole had spoken to him many times, and over the course of winter, had been stepping closer and closer to him. He just hoped she was being overly friendly, especially since she'd touched his face a few times, or twirled her clawed fingers through the length of his hair.

"I heard she is looking for a husband," another said, waving her hand back and forth with excitement. "She's the richest person in the burrow and she has so much power. Any man should be honoured to be by her side."

"Sorrel, you would find nobody better than her." One of the sisters cupped her hands to just underneath her jaw, the ladle she was using sticking up past her head as she sighed. "I can't wait to get married. I hope they are as confident and stable as her."

A sister cutting up a root pointed her knife at Sorrel and waved it up and down at him. "You should ask her on a date. I'm sure she'd love that."

"I... don't think I like women," he muttered quietly.

Silence came, and he glanced away from the pot he was stirring to look around him. Everyone had stilled. Their mousy human faces appeared bewildered, and their jaws dropped to reveal their blunt two front teeth.

"Of course you do, Sorrel," Cindy stated with a laugh, coming over to place her thin arm around his shoulder to hug him momentarily. "What kind of man doesn't like women? And Miss Mole would be perfect for you. Don't be shy, she really is lovely, and I'm sure you'd like her once you got to know her."

"Yeah," a sister agreed, her nose twitching. "Don't be so intimidated by her power just because she's an independent woman."

With his admission so harshly rejected, he swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. He didn't like how they'd so easily dismissed his feelings.

It was the truth, and he'd known it for months.

He'd seen a female flower fairy in Pond Town when he'd been with Cypress. She had not grabbed his attention. There had been something about the press of Cypress' muscles pushing up beneath his clothing, the depth of his rich voice, and the hard facial structure behind his beard.

The feel of Cypress' large hand wrapping around his own, and the way Sorrel's flat torso had pressed up against his plumper one. The masculine aura around him had felt like an invisible cocoon of safety and comfort.

The female flower fairy had looked too gentle, too soft. Although he'd admired her beauty for what she was, there had been no attraction to her. He'd found some of the male furry sprites here in Burrow City more attractive than her, and not a single female here had brought forth any interest.

His heart was still set on Cypress, but he'd also come to understand himself better while staying here. The burrow had allowed him to recognise that what he felt was truly love. He'd had plenty of opportunity to fall for someone else in the time he'd been here, but no one had come even a fraction as close to capturing his attention.

He wanted the flower fairy prince.

A pang squeezed his heart at the thought of him. I should forget him.

They began to cart the pot of stew on its little trolley to the centre of the city.

Long tables had been brought out, and they ran down the city's centre path. Different silky drapes spanned across the ceiling and hung low.

All manner of sprites cheered upon their arrival and already he noticed different food items on the tables. Nuts, edible flowers, roots, and even some bugs. These were just snacks or side dishes as other stews or soups littered the tables. Somehow, they had learnt from humans how to make bread, cakes, and even cookies, and now shared those things at the celebration.

People came with their bowls so that Sorrel, Cindy, and her four sisters could each give them a scoop before they looked over the table to take something else to eat. Then they took their seats.

Sorrel greeted everyone with a smile as he used his own ladle when someone approached him.

"I hope you're having a good night, Sorrel." He heard the voice coming up from his right, and he turned his head to find Miss Mole approaching him. She was holding a bowl, and she gave it to him. "Would it be alright if you gave me some?"

"Of course," he answered, before filling her bowl for her.

He felt the gentle tug of his hair being touched. When he faced her, she was holding the length of it in her clawed palms.

"Your hair is very silky. I very much like it."

As softly as he could, he tugged it out of her grasp. "Uh... thank you?" She'd said the same thing to him before and he always chose to ignore it.

He gave her the bowl, and she took it with a warm smile. "I would like to talk to you later, if that is okay?"

Even though he internally groaned, he returned her smile. "Of course. I couldn't say no to the mayor."

How could he? He was an outsider in the burrow, and he'd already come to learn that was odd. The burrowing sprites were rather untrusting of outsiders. He shuddered to think that if he had wings, he likely would have been ripped apart by now.

Miss Mole nodded her head and turned away, giving Sorrel the chance to let out a pent-up breath. I hope she just wants me to help with something.

He would be happy to help out in the burrow. He could aid in repairs, sew clothing, or build new structures with them. He'd already done some of these tasks for Cindy, her sisters, and all their neighbours. His lack of claws made it easier to do some nimble tasks compared to them.

He turned to take someone else's bowl to fill and found Cindy looking up at him with her hands on her hips. Her nose made her whiskers twitch, and they only did that when she was curious or excited.

"What did Sally ask you?"

"Miss Mole?" He eyed Cindy carefully as he handed the bowl he'd filled to someone. "She said she wants to talk to me later."

A bright grin widened across her features. "Good, good. She asked me about you earlier and I told her you would be agreeable to having a longer conversation with her. I'm glad she followed my advice."

Then she turned to her sisters with a giggle, and they all joyfully joined in. It sounded mousy, and one squeaked as though that was her way of snorting. Cindy was just trying her hardest to be helpful, but he really wished she wouldn't get involved in his life.

Not when he missed a man who had glittering wings and still hadn't come for him. Yet every day he didn't show up made Sorrel's chest hurt just that little bit more.

He hadn't heard a single thing about Cypress.

Sorrel gazed up at the ceiling with a heavy heart, as if he could see through to the world above.

Is he even looking for me?