Page 24

This had been another human invention I had come across, and my house had delivered. I didn’t quite know how it worked, even after living in it for nearly three hundred years. An idea took hold in my mind, and my house grew whatever I needed.

Occasionally traces of human life made their way into my neck of the woods. A brochure on human food, a catalogue, or in some cases, even clothes and brightly coloured items that floated down the little stream that ran through my land.

I had to make sure to keep up with human inventions. My mother never had. She viewed human customs as beneath her. I wondered how she satisfied her craving for pretty humans in this day and age.

I was sure that if I had kept Nikolai, his family, friends, or employers would have raised hell to find him again. Not that they could have if I hadn’t allowed it.

Maybe that’s how she does it.

A look out on the forest told me morning was only an hour away. I decided to stay up.

I could do with a cup of coffee.

The chickens wouldn’t complain if I let them out earlier. They hated staying in their coop longer than necessary.

And maybe I would visit my friend, the old oak, again. The last time I visited, I sat in the shadow of her branches, with my back against her trunk and told her what had happened with that wondrous human man.

You shouldn’t go into detail about tonight’s dream, Jules.

I shivered as I put on fresh clothes, a linen tunic, and trousers made from stag hide.

Is that why they draw me in like that?

I had always been fascinated with stags. The one that had given me the hide for this pair of trousers had been badly hurt by something, perhaps a wolf or some more dangerous creature that dwelled in the forest, when I found him. He would’ve died a terrible, painful death. As merciful as killing him had been, it had broken me to see him sink to the ground with my arrow in his heart. That I was able to put him out of his misery had been my only consolation.

The poor thing. He had been in the prime of his years. I still remembered a silent vigil I had held for him to help his soul find peace. I wanted to think that every animal that died in my forest never left. That their souls still roamed the land where they had been so happy.

Before I went downstairs, I made a detour to my library. If Nikolai ever returned, I had to bring him here. Perhaps he would like to see my most treasured possessions: my books.

I headed straight for the history section. In this world, lore and history often blended. I took two thick volumes of local history from the shelf, then went over to the hundreds of books filled with local lore. I had collected these books over the past three centuries. These were my favourites. I had an entire section filled with books about the Höimann whose mask I had been only too happy to wear.

Until Nikolai came into your life, at least.

But those weren’t what I was looking for. Today, I was looking for stags, and how they appeared in the lore. As much as I thought the dream had been a figment of my imagination, my dreams usually bore a shred of truth.

I thumbed through the books and picked a few I thought might hold the answers I needed.

I had always thought my father had been a human, but what if he wasn’t? What if the stag was the missing piece?

As if in a trance I took them outside and a couple of minutes later I found myself in the clearing that was overshadowed by my favourite oak.

I sat down on the stump of a pine I had to cut down after a storm and opened my book. It was strange how the forest around me stayed the same while my perception of my life changed with every page I read.

“Cernunnos! Barnabas, that’s it!” I called as I got up from my perch. I strolled across the little clearing she overshadowed, the old leather bound book in hand. “The Celtic God of the forest. His animal is a stag and also a couple of others. But Barnabas, it fits.”

I didn’t want or need to know how my mother had managed to seduce an ancient forest god, but it would explain a lot about me.

Like how I had always felt the pull of the forest, how I understood the language of the trees, and how the animals found me. My magic.

“What else can I do?” I asked no one in particular. The old oak creaked. “Yes, yes of course I will find out over time. I bet all the answers I need are already hidden in my library.”

A sassy beech tree who was growing in the oak’s shadow ruffled its leaves.

“Yes, I know I don’tneedthem all. I have been perfectly alright not knowing who my father is. But maybe Iwantsome answers.”

The most pressing one was if I had the ability to shift into a stag. But if I shifted, could I shift back? What if I got stuck as a stag forever?

“What would happen to Bunny? No, I cannot try. Not before I know if he will return to me.”