The Roselands

Nothing seemed right. Nothing was as it should be. I didn't feel right. I looked right, but I just didn't feel right. I sat in my room, cross legged in a bowl of couch cushions, pillows and blankets. It was my nest as I called it. The place where I liked to think. And I thought a lot about a lot of things.

Who was my father? Why was my mother always so secretive and timid? Why did I always question my existence? I felt my head give an irritated pulse of pain as I got another splitting headache. That had to be the third one today.

From the door suddenly came a sharp knock, causing me to jump. I didn't respond as usual and then it creaked open, exposing thick wavy red hair and a fair gentle face, decorated with two beautiful green eyes. My mother, Fay, was a wildly beautiful woman, exceptionally small and built like a bird with her delicate limbs and fragile structure. She was holding a tray, but everything on it shook and rattled, a result of her shaking hands. "Zeek? Are you hungry? I brought a little something up here."

She put the tray down on the coffee table right outside my nest and I could smell chicken, biscuits, and a tiny portion of chocolate cake. She only let me have the cake when I was upset or hurt. I looked up at her and shook my head politely. "I don't need the cake. I'm not upset."

She sighed and stepped into the nest, getting down on her knees beside me. "Sweetpea. Don't lie to me. I'm a mother. It's instinct to know when my only child is upset."

She used the term only child a lot. Almost too much. I was always wondering why that was so special to her. Was it because I was sacred to her? Was it because she was glad she'd only had one child from whatever man that sired me? I took a deep breath and let my hands rest on my knees. "Alright. I'm just deep in thought as usual, but something's been bugging me more than usual."

She stroked my muscular arm and kissed my cheek. "And what is that sweetpea?"

I looked her in the eye, knowing my piercing blue eyes always made her take pause. "Who is my father?"

Fay recoiled a little and her grip on my arm tightened a little, showing her fear along with the look of terror that crossed her face. "I...I understand you want to know the truth, but I just can't talk about him. Now eat. Your dinner's getting cold."

With that, she stood and walked out of the room as fast as she could. That was what had the question eating at me all the time. Every time I mentioned my father or asked her who he was, she got cold and silent, shaking her head and claiming she had something else to do. It had me both curious, and a little scared.

In the land of Killhar, a mystery father was definitely something to be feared. Creatures from the Roselands, a wide expanse of forest and mountains which was swamped in dark magic, could always be where your lineage derived. Creatures such as Fockses, Olkets, and Beerths were the most common ones to mate with human females and spawn hybrid children, but usually hybrid children showed traits of their lineage. I didn't. I didn't have fur, wings, claws, fangs, or even the tusks that came from Beerths. I was normal and human.

I had never met a hybrid. Nor had I met another human. Mother never let me leave the fenced yard of our home. She said it wasn't safe in our part of the forest, but for some reason, she always left the fence on the third Sunday of the month to somewhere she refused to tell me about. So basically my life was a muddled mess of secrets, questions, and timid mothers.

I figured a little bit in my head and noticed that the third Sunday was tomorrow.

A thought occurred to me right then like it had many times before. Could I actually sneak out of the house after my mother, follow her through the woods, and see what she did every third Sunday? It was always something she did no matter what. If chores needed to be done, she made me do them. If the weather was nasty, she dressed in thicker clothes. She always went. I'd simply need to follow at a safe distance and then hide while she did whatever she did. Simple.

I'd been debating it for several months now, but my loyalty to my mother always won out. I did everything she said. No questions asked. I was a momma's boy and never disobeyed her. That loyalty kept me from discovering where she kept going, but every time I decided not to, regret and anger always took over when I realized I'd have to wait another month before I would have to debate my choice again.

I sighed and stood, stretching my arms above my head by reaching up and pushing them against the ceiling. My room had always been the attic space of my mother's tiny cottage. There were only three rooms and then the attic space which was a little bigger than the kitchen downstairs. I'd lived in the attic since I was two and I hadn't slept anywhere else for sixteen years.

Dinner was indeed getting cold, but a few minutes over the fireplace in the corner had it back to a comfortable temperature. As I ate, I stared out of the attic window, seeing nothing except inky dark forest. It was a small house in a tall forest and so I could never see anything interesting. Whenever possible, mother had brought me maps and books to read about the land of Killhar, giving me a well rounded knowledge of our lands and its borders.

A sigh passed my lips and fogged up the glass. In a random and weak attempt to make myself laugh, I drew a smiley face in the center of the fog. I started to chuckle, but it fell flat when the smile faded away. My smile faded with it, only making me feel worse. My headache came back with a vengeance when I clenched my teeth. So I added frustration to the list of emotions I was feeling right then. I laid down and fell into a serene slumber, hoping I'd make a decision by tomorrow.