Chapter 7: Chapter 7: Big Little One

“Hack—wa—wait!” She called out. The ranger made not a glance, leaving behind but vapor in his steps opposed to Bernadette’s falling timber. “How is he—hack…” she gasped.

Suppose he was walking. Walking very fast. Trampling air, the ranger’s figure inhumanly soared through the copse. It was certain of course that he was no human.

But Bernadette was fae folk-ish. She wondered now how she was losing breathe as she was but crashing over sumac. Sumac! Her mind screamed, regretting rashes later as they passed Allura’s river. Speaking about the lady-toad, Bernadette thought it was her friend, hopping away from a toad army towards her.

I can’t slow down. You can try to follow me, she sent her thoughts while the ranger’s shadow left her climbing a trackless incline. Bits of harvested ashwagandha, forsaken maybe from some gatherer punctured Bernadette’s soft boot.

I will, Allura replied as Bernadette bit her lip. You should be resting! Ooh… that’s got to hurt.

I can’t! Bernadette went on despite the needle prickling a toe. She passed one familiar oak tree before she had to slide down a few more herbage. Roots and rock came to know her busted shoes. Her lungs were still ragged when she glanced at her guide, now waiting for her. The clearing behind him, dimming his frown.

“You have hurt yourself,” the ranger decided, the cold in his voice decaying.

“Doesn’t matter…haaah…I’m tough!” she barely announced. Every instance her pinkie moved an inch, tendrils of electricity would run through her spine. Bernadette’s vision blurred. She felt her world spinning. It was not long before Allura’s mind butt in.

She has not yet recovered, warrior. If I heal her now, she will pass out.

The ranger groaned but nodded to the sudden appearance of the toad. It took time for Bernadette to notice the weight above her head. For a hefty anuran, she was light—but wet.

Like you, I suppose. But you look heavier to any human, the toad teased. Taking charge of her well-being, Allura made Bernadette feel she had drunk fresh water. Please allow her to breathe, warrior. I believe she had yet her luncheon for the day.

From the surprise for Bertha being a seer and the torn faces of her parents and even aunt, they could have forgotten to eat. At least Allura offered her time to rest. It was left to the ranger to either oppose or not at all respond.

Almost breathtaking, the ranger nodded again and left to who knows where.

Bernadette fell to earth. Her knees buckled and her hands grappled soil. Allura bounced off from her perch and watched as her friend belch spittle. It was a long moment in Aluwein when the horrible ejection echoed throughout its sleepy wild.

You could have said ‘no’, her friend advised as Bernadette wiped the vomit off her sweaty face. The wind coming from the clearing was bitter and the girl had to ask the nearest tree for support. When she was finally on her feet, her head throbbed. The brightness coming off from the meadow had burned her eyes, forcing them to shut.

The whipping branches and the singsong of birds marred the soreness inside her chest. Another year had somehow passed before Allura’s thoughts pulled her back to reality.

Come now. The warrior can wait.

And so, they went. With Allura hurdling faster than the weakened Forester, the toad led the child to the rim of the trees. Bernadette squinted hard upon the sun’s glare, redoubling her attention to where her friend hopped.

You can stop there and close your eyes. Let the fair lady above adjust. There is no need to be swift. Bernadette had no energy to argue with the orders so she closed her eyes. When you think you are ready, you can open them.

As she did so, Bernadette regained her lost warmth and eventually her stomach growled.

That’s the spirit! Now, bask under the high lady’s perfection.

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Seemingly satisfied with the dull ache in her vision, Bernadette was not prepared to really bask in Aluwein’s beauty when it welcomed her.

The meadow was vast. Baking under the heat, beyond the horizon was a field of weaving flowers. There were all sorts of greenery scattered about but the rather catastrophic mirage of thick and thin stalk had in some way was flourishing tidily. Her canopy of trees circled along the rolling grassland and ended in a fae glitch further than Bernadette’s eyes can phantom. But the wind. Oh, sweet warm wind that had brushed upon the perfume of the flora. It was intoxicating. Curing the ailing scars on her body, this was the comforting effect of the fae meadow. A magical meadow.

“Where are we?” a gasp was stuck in her throat.

The Gate, or Gates. You can’t really tell because a lot of fae from all over come in and about. There was a worry tone this time from the salty toad. I don’t know why the warrior brought you here nor what deal you’ve made with him, but this place is dangerous for humans.

Bernadette was taken aback. The prior elation dissipating from her chest. “Why? Am I not fae enough for you?”

The toad was turned around when Bernadette slipped a tear. She was supposed to be her friend, Bernadette painfully held the thought. It was best that fae-toad did not reply for anything could never be no less a burden.

“No. But because no fae is kind.”

Bernadette bucked, her fist almost hitting leather armor when it was caught. Almost. Leather armor. It was the fourth time she was bamboozled.

Standing beside, who had spawn from nowhere was the same elven ranger, but now in forester leather armor? But unlike her dah’s, it was thin and was only worn by the chest. She had cocked a glimpse of a golden stag embroidery, its antlers encapsulating an orb when the ranger softly thrust her caught hand back.

“Not all fae are kind but it is a warrior’s duty, a ranger’s duty to guard and care for all that is to their forest. Eat. There is more I wish to show you,” he ordered as he looked away.

Bernadette was about to demand the meal when she felt in her hand the food. She took in of the wrapped oyster mushroom. It was roasted and it was a favorite. Excited, she dutifully dug in.

The ranger had remained guard as she helped herself, his careful attention smeared over the fae field. Now that she had become conscious of her behavior, Bernadette gulped a cap and thought better of her manners. “My dah calls me Sapling because we have trees as our second name.”

The tingle of his leaf-shaped ear assured her he was listening. “My mother calls herself Amborella so she named me, Acacia. My sister Bertha has Acerola. I think you already know my dah, he is named Bernard but my mama calls him Berny sometimes. How you call me is up to you,” she ended with another munch.

It had been their first proper conversation and the ranger had to ask, “Then why had your friend call you Barn?”

The birthing had struck a good memory. “Back in Rising Hills, the town had this huge barn where all the Gatherers, Hunters, Smiths… many of us store our goods. The people however ask us, the Foresters to which was perfect to be offered back to the forest, tribute, and for whatever else, barn. My dah leads the tribute, so I had taken it to myself to be barn. I was the one arranging and stocking what was for the barn, and since I was bigger than the other kids, the name stuck with my friends.”

When the ranger turned his head, he had grown a seedling smile. “Then I will call you Barn Fegahum, if you have no complaints.”

Bernadette blinked a dozen times. “But why? Is there something wrong with my name? And you and the High Lady Aluwein had called me fegahum. What does that mean?”

Her initial impressions of the ranger slowly crumbled as he was firm with answering her questions. “A fae knowing a name has power, but not ultimately. Just to be safe, we might as well use our halved truths. Fegahum in human tongues means little one.”

“Oh. Now that's silly. Big Little One,” she laughed at the play of words. And it was invigorating, a moment’s respite before her last question in mind. “Then how shall I call you, my lord?”

The ranger grumbled a chuckle. “We elves may be close to the Fae, but we have our own titles. You may call me Tagrain.”

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