A Surprising Spring

Chapter Two

The next day it rained.

Water poured down on Nicholas's cover incessantly, beating a rhythm against the material stretched between the trees. He'd summoned it the evening before, deciding to go for a rustic, camping style rather than the more opulent ways he'd passed some of his springs before. 

The sun rose, but the clouds didn't quite clear, so the day wasn't nearly as bright as the one before had been. For the best part of two hours, Nicholas lay on his back, humming an endless round and tapping his long fingers against his knees. He'd summoned new clothes - nothing fancy, and nothing like the Messengers wore. Some Sprites, he knew, went in for that kind of thing: the togas, the sweeping cloaks, the thick gold bracelets. He thought that maybe it made them think that they were Greek scholars, or Roman Emperors. Instead, he chose a pair of dark jeans and a thick, dark red jumper, along with a pair of boots. He didn't mind the earth beneath his feet, and he could rid himself of cold if he needed to, but there was something comforting about the clothes.

It was almost, he mused, like being a mortal. But, thankfully, not quite.

When the middle of the day approached and his stomach began to growl, he contemplated going truly woodsman and hunting for something, and then - that quickly dismissed - thought about summoning Zekiel. He would come up with something nice to eat, and Nicholas always enjoyed knowing that he had the power to call on a Messenger whenever he wanted. Strangely, though, he found that the thrill of summoning Zekiel was somewhat lessened by the fact that he had personal permission to do so. It just didn't seem quite so fun when the Messenger didn't mind.

In the end, he summoned a pie, instead, packed full of some tasty but unidentifiable meat and potato. He wasn't a big fan of vegetables.

The afternoon passed slowly, spend dozing and daydreaming, and soon enough the sky was dark and there was rustling over the forest floor and hoots from the treetops. Nicholas loved the forest at night; he found nothing eerie about it, nor was he disturbed by the idea of it being full of living creatures. That was what he loved about it. There were few things that the Sprite would be serious about, but he really did enjoy the forest. Others built up civilisations inside of their patches of land for the months that they were there: buildings, pools, gardens. They roofed everything over and filled it full of people - some real, some mere bodies, laughing and sipping at flutes of champagne with nothing in their eyes.

No, Nicholas loved the outdoors. There was the smell, the smell that would shift and change daily, the smell of rain, of cold, of a warm day to come. The animals around him - although they rarely ever came very close - were much better companionship to him than the empty people could ever be. They said so much more.

His camp, if it could be called that, was barely any distance from where he'd woken up, just inside the clearing, along the tree border. There was the darker patch of trees to his right, which he hadn't yet investigated; the wild grasses for a little way in front of him, before the next border of trees closed it in; and then, to his left, an opening along the woodland path. Down that path he was sure that he could hear some kind of water, but he hadn't walked down to see the day before.

He slept the night away, except for an hour around three when he awoke, perhaps roused by the lack of noise. The rain had stopped, and the sky had cleared. Stars filled the heavens, and the inky purple-blackness of the night sky moved him. He sucked in deep, clean breaths of air, took his fill of the sight and then curled up warm to sleep until dawn. At daybreak, it was drizzling, and the clouds had rolled back in.

It was two days before Zekiel came back.

"Finally!" Nicholas cried, sticking his head out of his shelter into the drizzle as the Messenger appeared. For a moment, Zekiel looked about him, towards where Nicholas had been the last time they had spoken, before spotting the makeshift tent and the Sprite's curly brown hair, flattened by rain.

Walking over, Zekiel raised an eyebrow and held his hands up to the sky. "It's beautiful weather here, isn't it."

Nicholas rolled his eyes. "Trust you to talk about the weather whilst I'm in an agony of anticipation..."

"I was only trying to inject some humour into the conversation," sighed the Messenger, sitting down comfortably on the open air.

"Really," Nicholas shook his head, "I don't recognise you at all any more. You seem almost able to have a normal conversation." The Sprite was struck suddenly with the fact that that's exactly what they were doing, sitting a few metres apart, one on a blanket on the ground, the other on nothing. It almost seemed friendly. Friends with a Messenger - that was a new concept, he thought. Strange, but interesting...

Zekiel tugged the edge of his cloak absently, looking away from Nicholas as he spoke. "I suppose you're concerned about your love."

His companion snorted. "My love, yes."

The Messenger's eyes flickered to him, dark and intense. "Do not scorn it. You have the opportunity to have this perfect thing, this mate, this true love. Not everyone is so fortunate, Nicholas."

Biting his lip, Nicholas looked away. He knew that Messengers didn't get mates, and although he'd never admit it, it was one of the reasons why he'd never considered training to become one. He didn't feel ready for love, but he didn't want to spend his whole life knowing that he would never have anyone. Of course, Messengers could have relationships, even fall in love - but it was rare. Their lifestyle wasn't suited to couples, and they knew that they were likely signing up for, if not celibacy, a single life. After all, they couldn't be with their mates - mates that were organised by people's Messengers, and a Messenger didn't have a Messenger of its own. The High Table fixed the matches, but the Messengers had and used the power to carry it all out.

It made Nicholas's head hurt, to be honest.

"I have news of your love," Zekiel said, ending the silence that had settled awkwardly over the pair.

The Sprite's head shot up, his eyes wide. "Oh balls, where is she?"

Zekiel laughed. "She's not right here, you don't have to look so panicked."

Nicholas let out a heavy breath, slumping down. Immense relief flooded him that he wouldn't have to deal with the love of his life right that instant. Something else fluttered to the back of his mind as well, a desire to hear Zekiel's laugh again. He brushed it away quickly.

"What's the big news then?"

His Messenger shrugged. "It's really just an update. She'll be coming this way in a day or two. Well," he glanced at the sky, "probably the day after tomorrow, actually. So you haven't got much longer to wait." He smiled at Nicholas.

"Great." The Sprite folded his arms over his chest like a petulant teenager.

Zekiel stood fluidly, his cloak settling back down his body, brushing against the backs of his knees. "I will leave you now. I doubt I shall see you again until after you have met your lucky lady."

Nicholas thought briefly about standing up to see him off, and then decided that it would be too awkward and he would have to venture back out in the rain, so just peered up at him from the ground. "I can't wait."

The Messenger chuckled. "It won't be that bad."

With that, he vanished, and Nicholas was left frowning angrily at empty air and a bird that looked slightly startled to have a body disappear right in front of him.

Now, he thought, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, it's just a waiting game. End of Nicholas's happy life in thirty-six hours... and counting.

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Yay another chapter! Please vote comment etc etc etc if you enjoyed!

Zekiel focus next time. (And I know it's pretty short, but I'm going for short and often rather than long and once every three months. Aw yeah. That's what she said... What am I even...)