Page 18 of Must Love Moss and Moonshine (Moonshine Hollow)

KELLEN

T o say that night was the most memorable of my life would be an understatement.

It was the most beautiful, love-filled evening I could imagine and the most heartbreaking.

As I held Sylvie while she slept, all I could think about was that I would probably lose her.

The idea that she might have someone else waiting for her tore at my heart. Yet, at the same time, I was grateful.

Perhaps I would never have a wife or family, but I would have this one perfect night to remember. As sleep finally claimed me, my only prayer was that when morning came, Sylvie would remember her life and choose to stay with me.

But when the sun rose, the hope of her memory returning was quickly dashed.

“Nothing?” I asked, my voice tinged with disbelief.

Sylvie shook her head, her brows furrowed. “Nothing at all,” she admitted. “I don’t understand it either. It was a dreamless sleep. I thought maybe I’d remember something in a dream or wake up with everything rushing back to me. But there’s still…nothing.”

Impossible. Everyone knew moonshine berries were the most potent healing remedy in existence. I glanced at Marvelle, who was now hopping from branch to branch of the willow, chasing the moon dragons like he’d never been injured. His leg was fully healed, and his energy was boundless.

Sylvie must have caught the frustration in my expression. “I’m sorry, Kellen,” she said softly, her voice breaking. “I feel like I’ve let you down.”

“No,” I told her firmly. “Don’t think like that. We don’t know how these things work. It might still come back to you.”

Her lips trembled as she nodded, and I could see the tears she was trying to hold back. I hated myself for making her feel worse, even unintentionally. It wasn’t her fault. But deep down, I was as perplexed as she was. How could the berries not have worked?

We packed the camp silently, each lost in our own thoughts.

Sylvie lingered by the pool, staring into the water and stroking the heads of the sleepy fairy moon dragons as they came to say goodbye.

They yawned, their nocturnal nature evident as they fluttered lazily around her.

They had accepted her in a way I never thought possible for someone who wasn’t a dryad.

As I watched her, I couldn’t help but imagine a future where we lived together in harmony with the forest.

But that dream seemed further away now than ever.

Once everything was packed, we made our way down the mountain.

Sylvie hummed a low tune under her breath.

I didn’t recognize the song, but it was clearly dwarven in origin.

She didn’t know it yet, but I suspected the dwarven man from her dreams had been important to her.

Perhaps he was even the key to her identity.

As we walked, the ache in my chest grew heavier.

If her memory didn’t return soon, I would have to take her to Moonshine Hollow.

The upcoming Artem Festival would bring people from all over the region.

Surely someone would recognize her. It would be safer than keeping her in the forest, away from whoever might be searching for her.

We were halfway to the cottage when the forest began to whisper to me. My stomach knotted as the leaves quaked, and I felt an urgent warning ripple through the trees.

Guardian of the forest, there is trouble afoot. Hurry, Guardian. You are needed.

“Sylvie,” I said, stopping in my tracks. “Something’s wrong.”

She paused, concern flashing in her eyes. “What is it?”

I hesitated, listening closely to the whispers of the forest. “I don’t know yet, but I need to find out. Marvelle will lead you back to the cottage. You’ll be safe there.”

Her lips parted, and she looked like she wanted to protest, but she nodded. “Don’t worry about me,” she said softly. “Be careful.”

I nodded and turned to Marvelle. “You remember the way, don’t you?”

The squirrel chittered in response, leaping onto Sylvie’s shoulder as I sprinted off into the forest.

* * *

Hurry, Guardian, the trees whispered. Old Mohr is awake. The brownies menaced his den, and he is full of rage. Stop him before it is too late.

Cursing under my breath, I quickened my pace.

The brownies were notorious troublemakers, but annoying Old Mohr as he prepared for hibernation?

That was a death wish. Old Mohr was no ordinary bear.

He was as much a part of this forest as I was, with his own magic.

And when provoked, his fury was unmatched.

The trees guided me, and soon, I found the band of brownies fleeing through the woods. Their tiny voices rose in a chaotic chorus as they spotted me.

“Help us, Guardian!” they cried.

I halted in front of them, my voice sharp. “Do you really think you deserve my help? Perhaps I should let Old Mohr deal with you. It would serve you right after all the trouble you’ve caused—harassing humans, trolls, and now Old Mohr. And let’s not forget, you nearly got a woman killed!”

The brownies cowered, their protests dying as I scooped them up and stuffed them into my satchel. Turning, I reached out with my senses, searching for Old Mohr. I would need to speak to try and calm him.

His presence was unmistakable. His rage was like a wildfire, and it was heading straight toward my cottage.

Sylvie!

Panic surged through me. If Old Mohr found her, an outsider, when he was already enraged…

I sprinted faster than I ever thought possible, leaping over roots and boulders, the satchel bouncing against my side as the brownies cried out from inside. I burst onto the path near the cabin just in time to hear Old Mohr’s deafening roar.

“No,” I whispered, my blood turning cold.

Sylvie stood on the path, a large branch held in one hand.

Her other hand was outstretched as though trying to calm the enormous bear on his hind legs who was poised to attack.

Purple light sparkled from her fingers. But what stopped Old Mohr wasn’t her—it was Marvelle.

The tiny squirrel had positioned himself between Sylvie and the bear, his small hands raised as he cast his Mesmer enchantment.

Old Mohr was frozen, his massive form trembling with suppressed fury.

“Sylvie!” I shouted, rushing toward her.

She turned, her face pale. “Kellen!”

Marvelle’s enchantment wouldn’t hold for long, and when it broke, Old Mohr would be even more enraged. I handed Sylvie the satchel containing the brownies. “Hold this,” I said firmly, “and don’t let them make a sound.”

With that, I scooped up Marvelle and set him on my shoulder. A faint cracking sound signaled the enchantment’s weakening.

As the spell broke, I called upon my magic, summoning thick roots from the ground to wrap around Old Mohr’s legs. Twisting like vines, the roots emerged from the earth, holding the bear in place.

The bear roared in indignation, but the roots held firm.

“Old Mohr!” I shouted, my voice commanding. “Would you attack an innocent woman in my forest?”

He roared again, thrashing against the roots.

“You are lost to rage and are a danger to my forest. You will be calm.” I began to chant a calming spell. Old Mohr resisted, knowing what I was doing, but gradually, his rage ebbed, replaced by a heavy weariness.

“The brownies will answer for their crimes,” I said, my voice firm. “The brownie elders will ensure it, but you cannot harm her. She is no threat to you.”

Old Mohr lowered himself to all fours, his massive head bowing in apology.

Sylvie, trembling but steady, inclined her head toward him. “I forgive you, Old Mohr,” she said softly. “This is your forest, your home. I’m the intruder here.”

The bear huffed and then turned to me.

“We understand one another?”

He gave a reluctant sigh.

With the wave of my hand and a few whispered words, the roots retracted, freeing the bear once more.

With a final glance and huff at me, Old Mohr turned and lumbered back into the woods.

Sylvie let out a shaky breath and looked at me. “I think… I think I need a drink,” she said with a nervous laugh.

“Me too,” I replied. “Let’s go.”

Inside the cottage, I poured two mugs of cider ale and set one in front of Sylvie. She took it gratefully, her fingers trembling slightly from the encounter with Old Mohr.

“My heart is still thumping,” she told me.

“You were brave, though. Braver than most would’ve been.”

Sylvie’s eyes shifted to Marvelle, who was perched on the table, preening smugly. She pulled off her belt and set it on the table. Reaching into one of the pouches attached to it, she pulled out a small handful of nuts. “This little guy is the real hero.” She set the nuts before him, smiling.

The squirrel wasted no time, diving into the pile with enthusiasm.

I couldn’t help but grin.

Sylvie laughed, the tension in her shoulders finally easing. “I’d say he’s earned a lifetime supply after that performance.”

Her gaze lingered on me for a moment, her smile softening. “And thank you, Kellen. For everything. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d be fine,” I said, though my voice was quieter than I intended. “Memory or not, you are strong, Sylvie. And your magic…the purple.”

Sylvie lifted her hand and waggled her fingers, purple sparks dancing around her fingertips. “It’s there, but I don’t know what for. Not an effective bear deterrent, though. Thank all the gods for Marvelle,” she said, patting the squirrel gently on the head.

I smiled then nodded. From outside, I heard the calls of the brownies still stashed in my satchel. “I need to step outside for a moment. I must summon the brownie elders to collect their troublemakers.”

Sylvie smiled and nodded. “All right. Don’t take too long.”

I rose, pausing to set a gentle kiss on her forehead, then headed outside.

The autumn breeze was cool and crisp. I walked to the ancient hollow tree that stood sentinel near the cottage, its gnarled branches reaching toward the sky.

Placing my palm against its bark, I whispered the words of invocation.

The tree hummed in response, and a faint glow emanated from the hollow, signaling a connection.

“Alert the brownie elders I need them,” I whispered to the tree, knowing it would glow similarly golden on the other side. The tree glowed brightly in reply to my request, then dimmed again.

The satchel containing the mischief-makers hanging from the hook wiggled, and I heard their muffled protests. “Silence,” I told them with annoyance. “You have gone too far this time. Now, you will answer for your misdoings.”

I turned, planning to rejoin Sylvie, when there was a sharp breeze. The air around me stirred, and the trees shook. The forest whispered to me, its voice gentle yet urgent.

Guardian, come. They are here.

I froze, the glow from the tree momentarily forgotten. “Who is here?” I whispered.

Friends, the forest answered. They come for her. We have allowed them to pass. They have come in search of the Sylvan woman, their hearts breaking with fear for her life.

A rush of conflicting emotions surged through me, the strongest of which was dread. If these were her friends, then they knew her. They could answer all my—our—questions, unlock the secrets of her mind, for better or worse. And they could also take her away, back to the life she’d forgotten.

“Are you certain?” I asked the forest, though I already knew the answer.

Yes, Guardian. Come and see.

The thought of losing her, even if it was to her rightful life, made my chest ache. But I couldn’t deny her the truth. If these people knew who she was, I had to let them reunite with her. For her sake. For her. Even if the mere thought made my heart break into a thousand pieces.

Come and see.

I looked over my shoulder at the cottage, hearing Sylvie chirp to Marvelle inside.

A knot formed in my stomach.

Great Gaia, no. It’s too soon. I can’t lose her now.

But no matter my heart’s urging, I turned and set off on a path to meet whoever had come to take Sylvie away from me.