Ch 33: Hart-to-Hart

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"So, can you fly?"

"Does it look like I have wings? No."

"Fair enough. Couldn't hurt to check. Can you climb up walls?"

"I'm fae, Hart, not a bloody rat."

Cedric looked around the darkened forest, squinting to see the last remaining spots of brightness. "What about seeing in the dark?"

"That part is true, to some extent. I can't see in the pitch darkness, but I can see general shapes, the way you would in the dimness."

As it was, Ella could see Cedric much clearer than he could her. His outline was clearly visible, only the colour was more muddled, turning everything a slightly murkier tone.

"Hmm... and that part about the animals. You know, that faeries take animals and fu--"

"For heaven's sake, no! Those are all baseless rumours. Hurtful ones," she added with a sniff.

"Alright, alright, don't get your knickers in a twist, I was just asking." He grinned and held up his hands defensively. "It's not every day your best friend comes back with inhumane strength and a nifty pair of claws," he added, shaking her hand, sharpened nails on display. "This would have been useful when we were playing arm wrestles at the pub, y'know. Could have raked in proper dosh."

Ella shook her head, amusement curving her lips. She set down the branches she'd collected, leaned against a tree, and sighed. "I still can't quite believe you're being so... calm about this."

Cedric paused mid-chop, cracking a dry branch and adding it to the pile at their feet. "Why wouldn't I? I know you look different, but you're still you. I don't see what all the fuss is about."

Ella let out a small, rueful chuckle. "Well, that's not everyone's opinion. To some, I might as well be an abomination."

"You're an abomination alright, but not because of your pointy ears." Ella tossed a pinecone at his head, and Cedric ducked, laughing.

"It's not funny," she grumbled, agitatedly squeezing a pinecone, the ridges leaving indents on her palm. "I was afraid you'd hate me." She said the last bit low, so quiet, it was barely audible.

"Is that why you never wrote all these months or found a way to let me know you were fine?"

His tone was quiet, not even judgemental, but Ella flushed, mouth twisting with the sour taste of shame. It was true; she'd not made to find him or even send a letter, even if it was possible.

"I was frightened," she confessed, voice small, eyes closed. "I was terrified that you would hate me for who I was. That you would shun me. I couldn't bear it... so I simply kept away."

Cedric sighed and leaned against the wide tree, his shoulder brushing against hers.

"Do you remember a few years ago when you slept over at my house and you woke up screaming bloody murder because you were covered in blood?"

"Shut up," Ella groaned, burying her face in her palms. "I thought I was dying! How was I supposed to know my menses would choose that day to show up for the first time?"

"You were so upset, hollering at me to stay away when you realised," Cedric hooted, shaking his head. "You practically barricaded the door."

"You're horrid," she sniffed, laughing nonetheless.

"Do you remember what happened, then?"

She nodded, a small smile breaking through. "You brought me cotton and rags--more than an army's worth, mind--you got me new clothes, cleaned the soiled bedding, and made me one of your mum's medicinal teas. And you didn't breathe a word about it." She pursed her lips and tutted. "For some time at least, then you teased me to no end."

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