Chapter 16: Chapter Sixteen: This Week on Househunters…

She had expected someone small and cute like the fawns from Fantasia, perhaps someone with curly blonde locks and rosy, chubby cheeks – with or without a set of panpipes. She had not expected the white-haired, clean-shaven, dapper fellow with a pinstripe suit and monocle. Adorable, tiny, cloven hooves that peeped out from beneath the hems of his trouser legs causing Jess to be at risk of fawning herself.

He appeared on the doorstep that morning and rapped on the door with a bronze-tipped wooden cane, introducing himself as Graham Thurman. After a brief discussion, Jess found herself being ushered outside by the no-nonsense faun. He wasn’t quite as tall as she was. The stubby pair of horns that protruded from his slick, waxed hair only reached her shoulders, but he set a fast pace. His hooves clipped mercilessly on the cobbles and Jess found herself stuck awkwardly alternating between walking and jogging to keep up.

“Michronius claimed that you were interested in the land to start a school, yes?” stated Thurman. His voice had an unpleasant, nasal quality to it that was already beginning to grate on Jess’s nerves.

Between heavy puffs of breath, Jess answered. “Yes, that’s right.”

Thurman gave a curt nod and continued their ruthless pace. The unsettling feeling that the fawn’s legs were moving so quickly that they might have disappeared into a soft blur settled over Jess. She refused to look down just in case she was proven correct.

“You will require outdoor space, yes?” Thurman asked as he stepped around a group of elderly women that were walking down the road. Jess found herself apologising for the disparaging look that he gave them as he passed.

“Keep up please, Miss Harper,” Thurman called over his shoulder, “We do not have time for socialising.”

By the time that they had reached their first destination, Jess felt as though she had run a marathon. She bent over at the waist, resting her hands on her thighs as she breathed heavily. Thurman seemed unconcerned as he began to run through the details of the area. They were at the edge of a clearing in the woods. It might even have been a pleasant walk from the city had they not been travelling at breakneck speeds.

“The land here is currently part of the territory of local dryads,” explained Thurman as he gestured to the trees around them. “There is ample room for outdoor space, and it is only a short walk to the city – as you indicated earlier to be a preference, yes?”

Now that her stitch was receding, Jess straightened to take in her surroundings. The glade was beautiful, edged with blossom trees and flowering shrubs. The land within seemed startlingly clear, as though all the plant-life had simply sprouted legs and walked away. Perhaps they did just walk away.

Jess walked a few steps into the clearing and smiled as the sunlight warmed her skin. Small flocks of birds, perhaps finches or sparrows, twittered in the greenery. A songbird’s call could be heard beyond the treeline. It’s so peaceful.

Then Thurman spoke. “The Dryads have two small stipulations for anyone interested in the land, yes?”

Jess turned to the fawn. Though he uttered the words matter-of-factly, something about the way that he had waited until now to bring up these ‘stipulations’ had her worried.

“Regretfully, the dryads will not allow the use of lumber on their land. They insist on growing trees and vines to create living structures,” he explained. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, observing their surroundings in a relaxed pose.

Jess frowned. What’s the point if I end up waiting decades to erect a building?

“A typical house might take 9 days, on average. This will be included in the costs of the land itself provided you submit a list of requirements in a timely fashion,” the fawn continued in the same informative, but disinterested tone. He then turned to her with a measured look of disdain. “That would be advantageous considering your budget.”

Smarmy dick. Despite her gritted teeth, Jess forced a smile and waited for the second stipulation to be offered. When it wasn’t offered freely, she cleared her throat with a polite cough and raised her eyebrows pointedly.

“The second stipulation…” The fawn fidgeted, lacing, and unlacing his fingers. “Fire in this glade is strictly prohibited.”

Jess’s jaw dropped. Her brain fumbled for words as she stuttered, “All fire?”

The fawn lowered his chin as he licked his lips before raising it defiantly and making eye contact once more. “The Dryads were very insistent about this rule.”

“What about in Winter though? What do I do when it gets dark?” Jess objected in a voice that was more shrill than she had intended.

“There are to be no candles, no torches, no lamps, no lanterns, no lit braziers, no lit stoves, no cooking fires, no campfires, no wood burners, no smoking sheds, no barbeques, no bonfires, no lit heaters, no lit grills, no fire pits, no chimenea, no incinerators, and no funeral pyres,” Thurman listed sternly.

Jess went on to discover that finding the ideal property, or even a vaguely acceptable strip of land, would prove to be more difficult than she had anticipated.

The next offered site that they moved to view was a dank cave in the hillside nearby where the Druidess lived. Jess was already apprehensive about being closer to the narcissist, but as she stood shivering in the gloom of the cave it seemed that regardless of the neighbours, the cave was not fit for purpose.

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“You’ll note that this particular cave system has excellent ventilation,” stated Thurman after the flame of the torch he was carrying sputtered and died.

The chattering of Jess’s teeth echoed through the blackness. The sounds of gentle drips of falling moisture in the cave only seemed the make the silence deeper.

“Very useful during the summer months,” Thurman said.

Jess was glad that he couldn’t see the thunderous look on her face. She fervently hoped that this was all a ploy. Perhaps he had only brought her to these two places to give an idea of how unsuitable the land could be so that when she viewed somewhere that was acceptable, she might jump at the chance to sign for it. There was only one way to find out.

“I-It’s s-s-summer now. N-next p-please.”

Four more areas were on Thurman’s list, but none of them were any more realistic than the first two that he had offered. Thurman dutifully accompanied her back to Toleron’s Trinkets.

On the doorstep of the shop, Thurman stood facing Jess and he straightened the lapels on his jacket.

“You’re definitely sure that there aren’t any other places we can try?” Jess asked him.

“Unfortunately, Ms Harper, your funds are finite, yes?” The fawn replied in his usual brusque tone.

“Have a pleasant evening then, Mr Thurman,” she said with a polite, tight-lipped smile.

“And to you, Ms Harper,” he returned, dipping his head in farewell before making haste down the street.

Jess had other questions but having spent the full day with the caustic fawn, she opted to keep them to herself. Broadening her search could wait for another day, preferably after her aching muscles had been given time to rest.

Jess shook her head as she listened to the clip-clop of his hooves quickly becoming lost in the noise of the city, then shut the door. Mike was nowhere to be seen, presumably in the rooms above the store where he would be freshening himself up after a long day behind the store counter. It was a routine that Jess was used to and predictably, the soft scents of cooking were also wafting down the pristinely swept wooden staircase. Sage and the citrusy scent of lemongrass made her mouth water.

When safely in the confines of her small room, Jess flopped back on her bed, exhausted. She hadn’t even taken the time to take off her shoes, let alone change into something more comfortable. One hand hung loosely over the edge of the bed whilst the other was raked through her hair. What a day.

What felt like only a moment later, a quiet tapping alerted her to Mike’s presence. “Any luck?” he called through the wooden door.

“Nope!” Jess called back. She blinked heavily. Her eyes felt heavy and unpleasant. She must have dozed off after laying down.

“How bad was it?” he asked.

Jess hesitated. She knew that Mike was no big fan of the fawn but putting the complexity of her disappointment into words was a task that her tired brain wasn’t prepared for.

“That bad, eh?” Mike called, interrupting her scattered thoughts. “No matter. I’ve got another who might be able to help ye. Farmer Hewitt. He’s got some land that he’s looking to sell.”

Jess mulled over this information silently.

“Ye decent in there?” Mike asked.

“Yep,” she answered, staring at the ceiling to avoid the look of disappointment that Mike would give when he saw her shoes on the bed. Luckily, the door wasn’t opened. Instead, Mike uttered one of the most wonderful sentences that she had heard that day.

“Good. Food’s ready.”

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