Page 4 of Must Love Moss and Moonshine (Moonshine Hollow)

KELLEN

M y spyglass to my eye, I stood watching as the small herd of harts grazed in the glade, nibbling on the tender greens growing from the forest floor.

Slants of sunlight shimmered down from the leafy canopy overhead, making dapples on their pure white coats and causing the bucks’ golden horns and does’ silver hooves to glimmer.

The harts were only one of dozens of species under my care.

But a week earlier, I had seen signs of an autumn vex in a few harts. Today, nothing.

I breathed a deep sigh of relief.

They were fine, just a yearling or two with runny noses that had cleared.

I stood in silence, closing my eyes and feeling the forest around me, trying to sense if any trees or animals needed me.

My heart beat slowly, sensing the deep roots of the heart oaks, the swaying willows, and the kaleidoscope of flutter dragons I had spotted living in the briar rose patch.

Everything was at ease. Everything was calm.

Everything was...

Overhead, a flock of crows appeared. I felt their desperation to find me, all of them squawking loudly.

“Elf woman in the forest! Elf woman! Elf woman has fallen in the forest,” they called in unison.

“Hurry, dryad. Hurry to her, or she will die,” one called, then added with mirthful laughter, “And a mule is running, and running, and running. The brownies did in his nerves!”

“Where?” I called, my heart beating quickly.

“To the east. By the stream. Run fast, dryad. Run fast, or she will surely die!”

I sprinted, slipping my spyglass onto my belt as I raced across the forest. As I went, the trees gently whispered to me…

This way, dryad.

Over here, Guardian.

In the glen, Forest Lord.

I raced along, hearing the crows’ laughing words in my ears... An elf woman lay dying in my forest? How had she gotten here? It was impossible. My enchantments and protections kept everyone away from this forest—human, gnome, dwarf, pixie, and orc alike.

No one should be here.

But she was. And if the crows were right, I needed to hurry.

As my feet flew across the forest, leaping over stones and brooks, I tried to remember.

How long had it been since I’d spoken to another person?

Maybe since the Autumn Festival last year when I’d delivered moonshine plant to Juniper in Moonshine Hollow?

Had I talked to anyone since then? The mere thought of interacting with anyone made me wince, and yet…

The moment I reached the glade, I sensed her.

The scent of a horse lingered in the air, but the animal was nowhere to be seen.

Instead, I found a woman lying in a bed of violets.

Her long, raven-black tresses glimmered blue in the slants of sunlight that shimmered down on her.

Motes of dust sparkled in the air above her.

She looked so beautiful that my breath caught in my throat. And for a moment, I forgot myself.

Quickly, Guardian. Her head … the ash nearby whispered.

Shaking myself from my stillness, I rushed to her, dropping to my knees.

I scanned the area around me and saw at once what had happened.

Moving at a gallop, the horse had knocked her from the saddle and sent her to the forest floor.

A scratch on her face bled, but when I looked closely, I saw she had taken a blow to the head as well, rendering her unconscious. Unconscious, but not dead.

Thank Mother Moon.

Willing my wild heart to still itself, I closed my eyes, called for the magic around me, and gently moved my hands over her body, searching for injury.

No legs or arms were broken, but her ribs were bruised for sure, no doubt from the branch.

I would need to bind them. But her head.

.. I could feel the world inside her mind slowly growing dim.

I opened my eyes. “Maiden,” I said gently. “You need medicines, and quickly. I will carry you to my cottage. Forgive me for lifting you without your say-so,” I said, then gently scooped her into my arms, carefully cradling her head against my shoulder.

Moving as fast as I could while gently holding the woman, I worked across the fields and forest and into the secret grove where my small stone cottage sat beside the stream.

As always, the sight of my home was a pleasant one.

The waterwheel turned slowly. My garden beds of herbs perfumed the air with scents of mint and rosemary.

My raised beds for mushrooms were ready to be harvested.

On the hillside, rows of pumpkins grew. I felt a swell of pride knowing I’d grown some of my largest yet.

And yet, as I hurried toward the door, I was struck with a singular thought.

No one had ever been inside my home except the dryad who’d lived here before me.

I’d never had any type of guest.

The sanctity of a dryad’s home was protected by ancient enchantments, shielding both guardian and the fragile creatures in our care. How this woman had found her way through those wards was a matter for later consideration. For now…

I pushed open the door and carried her to my small bed, my heart racing at this unprecedented intrusion.

Her mind was slipping deeper into shadow with each passing moment, her spirit sinking into that dangerous abyss between consciousness and the final dark.

Working swiftly, I gathered my medicinal stores, selecting each jar and herb bundle with practiced precision.

First, the mind-strengthening draught. Into my mortar went the essential herbs: dreamleaf for clarity, heart root for grounding, and silvermint to bind them. I ground these with water from my ever-warm kettle, working quickly but precisely.

“Maiden,” I said, supporting her head as I brought the cup to her lips. “Drink this to find your way back to the light. The greenwood welcomes you and will heal you.” To my relief, she swallowed the mixture without resistance.

Next came the wound care. I prepared a healing balm, selecting jars of my most potent salves.

With a dampened cloth, I gently cleaned her cheek, noting the unusual softness of her skin, pale as moonlight save for a rose-blush of color.

My practiced hands worked carefully, though my thoughts were less steady.

“I am sorry. This may smart a little,” I told her, dabbing my cloth with an astringent. “Please, forgive me,” I said, then cleaned the wound.

She winced just a little but did not wake.

Once the wound had been cleaned, I applied the healing salve. “There is mushroom, root, and herbs in the salve. It will heal the cut in but two days. I promise, there will be no scar. It would be a great pity to see such a mar on a face as perfect as yours.”

When the work was done, I sat back.

“I must fetch more herbs to make the salve for your bruised ribs, but you are safe here in my home. The forest is enchanted. No one will bother you here. Not even the brownies, who, when I find them, will be scolded so severely for their hand in your misadventure that they will feel sorry for the next year.”

Grabbing my blanket, I covered her, pulling the quilt up to her chin.

She sighed contentedly, and I saw her features relax a little.

She was coming back.

I smiled softly at her, then turned and grabbed a basket and headed outside.

This peaceful grove had been my sanctuary for decades, a place where I could tend to my charges without the clamor and complications of the outside world.

Even my rare visits to Moonshine Hollow, though necessary, left me longing for the gentle whispers of the forest and the sweet songs of hummingbirds and moonsong thrushes.

Yet as I stepped out into the autumn air, basket in hand, I found myself puzzling over an unexpected truth: if solitude was truly all I desired, why couldn’t I wipe the smile from my face?