A Forest So Dark and Deadly

Chapter 5

Sunlight streams in from a crack in the thick curtains that covers the window of my bedroom. I let the sun bathe my face as I soak in the comfort of my bed. It's a nice change from the forest floor or even the hammock I'll sometimes tie high up in the trees.

If only I could lie here forever.

There's a sudden crash from downstairs and I sit up.

What the-?

I toss back the covers and sprint down the stairs in several bounds. The smell of cooking food hits me, along with the sound of broken glass being moved. I stop in the doorway to the kitchen. A quick survey of our butter-yellow kitchen reveals a broken bowl lying on the wooden floor by the stove. Wes is stooped beside it, a broom in hand as he sweeps it into a dustpan.

"Good morning," he mutters as he eyes me warily.

I reach up to touch my uncovered elbow then, the sleeve of my sleep shirt not quite covering it. A thick scab has crusted over and I sigh as I let myself relax. Wes watches the motion, his eyes flickering as he looks away and stands. He dumps the broken bowl into the trash before he stows the broom in the corner of the room.

"What's for breakfast?" I dare to ask.

"One of the chickens, she stopped laying a couple months ago," he says and I nod as my heart pinches.

"It wasn't Tracey, was it?"

"No, I didn't murder your geriatric chicken, she's out in the flowerbed eating bugs," he comments as he waves in the direction of the back door.

I nod as I step past him and scoop up a small handful of chicken feed from the bucket by the door. I open the door, a light breeze trickling in as I breathe it in, filling my lungs. I cough and step out and shut the door behind me, making sure to leave Zira inside.

Overall, she's usually good around the chickens, though she does get jealous of the attention I give Tracey. Several, loud clucks greet me as a small, black and white feathered chicken hops out of the coneflowers alongside the house. A massive plume of feathers crowns her head, making it nearly impossible to see her eyes as she strolls over to me.

"Good morning, Tracey," I murmur as I offer my hand to her.

She clucks at this, her head tilting back and forth with interest as she gently pecks at the food in my hand. I reach up to touch the silky feathers on her head as she leans into my touch. I look up towards the fence line, remembering when I used to think that it was safe. There are still burn-marks on the sheet metal where the unicorn had climbed over a few years ago.

Blood still stains the metal, the intensity of the color having faded but still stubbornly remaining there. I've refused to go near it, as shooting the beast and hauling it off was enough of a pain.

Besides, it will always serve as a reminder that no matter what, if they're determined enough, any fae can and will get inside.

***

Breakfast wraps up quietly as Wes clears the table and washes the dishes without a word. I can still sense some of the tension of yesterday lingering over him as I tentatively head for the front door and pull on my boots.

"Heading out?" his voice echoes from the sink.

"Yeah, I saw that Asha's back in town," I reply.

"Okay, I'll be gone when you come back, they need help at the calving pens," he says in an easy enough tone that I don't feel guilty about heading out.

"Alright," I call back as I open the door with Zira by my side.

Asha's house is a quaint, one bedroom, one bathroom cottage two blocks from mine. At first glance, most people would believe that no one lived there. And they'd be almost right to think that. Of all the scavengers in Fawald, Asha goes out for some of the longest trips and does so frequently. Which is why the yard is overgrown with shrubs and weeds that almost come up to the windows.