4. Irving

4

IRVING

T he walk back to Sylvan's house was, if I was being generous, nightmarish. It was too dark to see much of anything beyond the road directly in front of us, and halfway there, even that turned into a heavily wooded dirt path. The regret I had for not taking my car all but disappeared as I realized no car would make it through this trail in one piece. With each step I took, I put my life in my hands.

"Oh, watch out for the tree roots along the path here," Sylvan said as we traipsed even deeper into the forest. "I really should thin the trees out along the path, but I simply can't bring myself to. In fact –"

"Ow!" I stumbled over one of the aforementioned tree roots, my feet giving way underneath me.

With a decidedly ungraceful pitch forward, I landed face-first on the packed dirt road, getting a mouthful of moss and tree bark. A quiet crack told me that something had just broken, and if it wasn't one of my bones, it was my glasses.

" That ," Sylvan said, "was one of the tree branches I was talking about."

"Yes, I know," I replied, my voice muffled by the ground. "Are you going to stand there gawking, or will you help me up?"

Sylvan sprang into action, pulling me up by my arms. My suit was covered in dirt and grass stains, and wiping it off did little good. I muttered a few choice words under my breath as I picked up my glasses, now snapped in two pieces along the noseband, but if Sylvan heard, he didn't say anything about my annoyance.

Something tickled the top of my hand and I brushed at it, fingers hitting a large black blur along my knuckles.

"What is that?" I cried, shaking my hand vigorously.

"Oh, the thing on your hand?" Sylvan asked casually.

"Yes, that thing." I continued to shake my hand to no avail, the dark blob hanging on for dear life.

"It's just a spider. I think you startled him by falling onto his home."

"Get it off of me!"

Sylvan grabbed my wrist, holding it stable, and scooped the spider into his other hand. "There, there, the poor thing is off of you now. I'm sure he's as grateful to be away from you as you are to be away from him." He looked up at me, or at least I was fairly certain he did, though his face wasn't much more than a pale shadow. "Oh dear," he fussed, setting the spider back on the ground so he could wring his hands together. "You got a scrape on your cheek. Fortunately, we're close to my cabin, so I'll clean it for you there."

"I'm not a child," I snapped. "I don't need help cleaning up a cut."

"But you do need help removing a spider the size of your thumbnail off of your hand." Sylvan stifled a laugh. "Please don't forget that I'm a fae. Of all the monsters in the world, a fae is the kind you want around to help out when you're injured."

I hated to admit it, but he was right. Faefolk knew all sorts of remedies and potions which they used with great skill, and with a notoriously gentle touch and acute understanding of biology, they were almost always the first choice for care at hospitals, clinics, and the like. If this entire situation hadn't been his fault in the first place, I might have been grateful to have Sylvan here to take care of me.

"Here, take my hand," he said. "I'm assuming you can't use those in that shape?" He gestured at the two pieces of my eyeglasses that I held onto limply.

"No, I can't."

"Don't worry, I'll make sure you don't trip again."

We walked for another few minutes until we reached a bend in the path and Sylvan pointed ahead.

"See that light through the trees?"

I nodded. "Yes, I can see it, although it's quite blurry."

"Ah, the glasses. Right. Well, that's the light from my cabin. If you just step through the trees here –" he led me through a patch of tall, spindly trees with splotchy white and brown bark– "we can go inside and see about fixing your face and glasses."

I paused to take in the view around me. Everything blended into a sea of dark, blurry colors, but I was able to make out orbs of light flitting throughout the clearing. Fireflies . Strings of lights hung along the cabin eaves, spinning around in the gentle evening breeze. The cabin itself was small and unassuming, the perfect size for a fae living alone, and quite far from the perfect size for two grown men to live in.

Sylvan helped me up the steps and opened the door, allowing me to go inside the warm, cozy room first.

"You don't keep your door locked?" I asked.

He chuckled. "Why would I? The only strangers out here are the animals who share the woods with me, and they've never tried to get inside before – well, there was that raccoon…but he used the window. And a bear managed to turn the knob, but he never quite made it in before I put a stop to his trespassing. And an opossum gave birth by the fireplace in here once, but I brought her inside after I found her on my doorstep. Don't worry, I evicted her and her children once they were old enough to fend for themselves. They still come to visit once in a while, but they never stay for more than a day."

I shook my head. "You're off your rocker."

"Maybe so." He shrugged. "As long as I'm happy and can keep others happy, I don't care how sane I am. Here, sit down on the couch and I'll bring you some ointment for that cut and glue for your glasses. Do you drink tea?"

"Actually, I'm quite fond of a good cup of tea."

"I'll make us some after I get you sorted, then."

Sylvan disappeared into the only other room in the house, which I assumed was the bathroom. Everything else was part of the main space of the cabin, including his bed.

The bed was tucked against the wall, nestled in one corner. It had a colorful quilt draped over it and the window on the wall it was next to was wide open.

"No wonder he gets creatures living in his house," I murmured. "He doesn't even have a screen to keep the bugs and rodents out."

Handmade pottery and art supplies littered the surfaces around me. Dried herbs hung in bundles over the kitchen counters and sink. He had a bookshelf along the wall opposite the bed and I was tempted to go over and look at the titles he owned, but without working glasses, they would be nothing more than a blob of color to my eyes.

Every other free space in the room was used for canvases of all sizes. Some were empty, but most looked like they'd been painted on and were waiting for the right person to come along and take them home. I wished I could see the pictures better, but Sylvan had just emerged from the bathroom with some bandages and was busy making tea now, and I wasn't about to disrupt him and cause him to take twice as long to finish his tasks.

"Here we are," he said, setting down a tea tray on the coffee table after clearing away a stray book and some dried lavender. "It's a blend I made myself last year – I hope you don't mind."

"Contrary to what you think about me, I don't mind trying new things," I replied. "I'm cautious, that's all."

"I take it you've had experiences to make you that way?"

"Perhaps, but let's not talk about the past tonight." I took a sip of the tea, a sweet, spiced blend that exploded in my mouth. I quite liked it.

"I understand." Sylvan sat down next to me, procuring some small items from his pocket. "Let me fix you up, and then we can chat about whatever you'd like – the past, the present, the future, even."