Page 1 of Consumed (Shot in the Dark)

EOIN

T his winter will be the end of us all .

Last night’s gathering in the chapel had been a miserable affair. I couldn’t shake the memory of the wide eyes, the dismayed whispers.

This year’s harvest isn’t nearly enough.

Too many sheep have perished—we haven't enough wool.

We don’t have enough fuel for the hearth .

The sickening echo of not enough kept me up through the night and prodded me into leaving my bed while the sky was still dark. Axe in hand, I set my sights on the distance and began walking.

Most of my kin wouldn’t dare set foot in the forest before the sun had risen. In my grandmother’s time, the stories of villagers falling prey to a banshee were so vicious that she only crossed the tree line when absolutely necessary.

As the primary craftsman of An Tulaigh, of course, I didn’t have that luxury. Not anymore .

There was no shortage of stories from every cousin, friend, and visitor to our humble home. They wove tales of strange lights in the branches in the dead of night, special offerings begetting blessings and riches, and the cursed stones of Balleyboley.

I held one tale above all else as an absolute fact.

The cold truth of it lived in my bones as my boots crunched along the fallen leaves that carpeted the ground.

This forest was a sacred thing—the thin space .

The place where the veil between our world and the fae’s was shallow, making anything possible.

The sun, low on the horizon, turned the sky gray and cast strange shadows as I trekked onward, eyeing the moss-covered oaks.

I hadn’t gone far from the village path, yet the air thickened and surrounded me like a quiet embrace.

It was hard not to feel watched—hard not to hear the echo of every frightening tale I’d heard as a child or over the dregs of midnight ales at festivals.

I was foolish to think I could finish cutting before the forest awoke. Standing within its shadows, I knew with coarse certainty that it never slept.

Get it over with . I stopped to survey.

Settling on a tree to strike was impossible when every option was surely punishable. Taking from the tree line could be misconstrued as an attempt to weaken the forest’s boundaries, but choosing a tree from deeper within could be viewed as an outright attack .

The oaks around me were beautifully robust, entirely unlike the ones that had withered away near An Tulaigh.

I swallowed hard at the prospect of returning home with wood for the hearth.

I couldn’t bear the thought of burying yet another body lost in the frigid night—and the full wrath of winter was still months away.

My fretful thoughts were silenced as my gaze was drawn to one of the oaks.

I swore a peculiar light was shining upon the rough bark. I stepped cautiously around the tangle of roots that plunged in and out of the earth around the tree. There was something different about this one. My ears rang with a hum that somehow sounded both near and distant.

Fae trickery .

And yet, I was transfixed. I raised my hand to touch the center of the trunk. As my fingers spread across the knotted texture, I released a sigh, feeling almost… tranquil .

A harsh rustle of vegetation snapped me from my lull. I automatically reached for my axe and staggered back in search of the source, only to catch my heel on a root and slash myself on the blade as I fell to the ground.

Brilliant pain burst along my forearm. Hissing, I pulled my arm in front of me. Blood trickled from the gash, traveling down my elbow and plopping onto the roots and leaves. Gritting my teeth, I held the wound against my cloak’s fabric.

Quite brave, lad , I thought bitterly. Startled by a rabbit in the bushes.

But there was a charged sensation in the air—not unlike the tension before a lightning strike. I thought it was my own pulse in my ears, thrumming from the pain, but no. That was separate. Something else, carrying its own rhythm, occupied every conceivable space between the trees around me.

Holding my breath, I kept my eyes fixed on the wound, terrified of what I’d see when I looked up.

I had no choice.

Slowly, I lifted my gaze. At first, nothing seemed amiss.

And then, a hint of white behind the oak tree caught my eye. It was nearly invisible, easily mistaken for a trick of the light. But the longer I stared, the clearer it became: a ghostly pale hand gripped the trunk, the rest of its arm disappearing behind.

I eased backward and blinked hard, willing it to be nothing more than a frightened imagining. Tilting my head, I dared to seek a better look at the phantom owner of the hand that surely didn’t exist.

The creature peeled away from the trunk and advanced toward me without a sound.

I found my footing at once and bolted. A scream caught in my throat. I refused to look back, certain the white hand would find my throat the second I dared.

Beware the banshees. The vengeful ghosts of the forest .

Such a creature couldn’t be reasoned with. Though I had not yet taken anything from its home, my very presence here was an affront.

A moan escaped me as I realized the world was getting darker instead of lighter. I had fled deeper into the forest instead of away from it. I had no choice but to slow and watch my footing, desperate to outmaneuver the creature long enough to circle back in the direction of the village path.

“You. ”

The voice came from in front of me.

I shouted when I looked up to find the creature directly in my path.

My footing stayed intact this time as I reached for my axe and held it in front of me in defense. A braver man—or stupider one—might have swung it immediately. But I steadied my breath and stared the creature head-on.

“I-I mean no harm,” I stammered. “Stay back. Stay back and let me leave this place.”

My words were silenced as I took a longer look at it—at her .

Although the dawn was dark, she was stunningly visible, as though the moon itself shone from within her.

The creature had the form of a woman teeming with unearthly beauty.

Long white hair flowed down the length of her back.

She wore a gown that seemed spun from the air itself.

“Let me leave,” I breathed. “I won’t return. Please— spare me. I meant no disrespect.”

The woman tilted her head to the side, eyeing the axe.

When her gaze traveled to meet mine, I couldn’t breathe.

She didn’t appear frightened by the weapon nor moved by my plea.

She stared at me with detached curiosity—animal-like and unsettling, like she hadn’t decided what to do with me yet.

She didn’t seem to hold any particular emotion as she regarded me.

Perhaps she’ll only attack if I strike , I thought with tentative hope.

Still clutching the axe, I attempted to step back in the direction I’d fled from.

From one blink to the next, she was directly before me. I didn’t see her hand shoot out before it was grasping my arm. Her fingers dug into the still-bleeding wound.

“Release me!” I gasped, lurching back. Although she was a head shorter than I, the devastating strength of her grip kept me in place.

She leaned up while dragging me closer to her level until our faces were mere breaths apart. I was too frozen to fight. She looked up into my eyes, and the faintest flicker of… something stirred within those deep, dark pools.

Her voice, uncannily beautiful, surrounded me like a lover’s touch. “You cannot hope to live if you take from the forest without blessing it. Take what you need. And nothing more.”

A bout of dizziness swallowed me like a wave .

My eyelids fluttered madly, and all at once, I was surrounded by the soft light of dawn.

Staggering back, I drank in my environment, slack-jawed. Against all logic, I was back near the edge of the forest, as though I’d never left. The pain in my arm had vanished. I looked down in astonishment to find that the gash had completely closed, leaving no trace of a scar.

Breathing heavily, I searched in every direction for the strange, bewitching woman. Although I couldn’t see her, I was almost certain that her gaze was currently resting upon me, observing my every movement.

My attention settled on the oak tree I had selected—and a pulse rang through my body, dissuading me from taking my axe to it. I selected another nearby and stepped up to it reverently.

A blessing .

I pressed my hand to the trunk and murmured. “I take not from you selfishly. I am indebted to your sacrifice.” The words appeared on my lips as miraculously as the woman had appeared in front of me.

The first swing was the most frightening—but the woman was not toying with me. I was allowed to take what I could carry without punishment. All the while, I felt her watching.

The next trial—stepping out of the forest—was not met with any resistance, either. As my boots found the village path once again, I released a heavy breath and allowed my shoulders to relax. I had no intention of looking back, but something spurred me to do so.

Turning over my shoulder, I found two pinpricks of light hovering in the tall branches of the peculiar oak tree. Her eyes. As the faintest silhouette of her perched form became visible, I had a feeling I could only perceive her because she allowed it.

As I strode away, I couldn’t shake the thought of what it might be like to touch her—to run my fingers through her moonlight hair or caress her soft skin.

I should bring her something next time.

A gift.