“I do,” Annilen said, as she flew next to her. Flying gave her an advantage. Flying meant she was never out of breath.
Snow was a bit envious of that. When she realized what the sprite said, she halted. Her chest rose and fell with every heaving breath.
“Wait,” Snow said. “Did Elator send you?”
Elator was her woodland elf father, though that wasn’t the right term. He was more of a father figure, a protector, and the one who had raised her from the time she was eight and exiled from her own castle. Yirrie was his wife who was giddy at the prospect of raising a human child. They took her in without question, gave her a home, loved her, raised her, and treated her as though she were one of their own.
Though she wasn’t. The only thing she had left of her royal life was a necklace she wore day and night. It was a pendant with the royal symbol of the Mystic Vale—a rose and crown.
Annilen fluttered around her head in an agitated state. “Not exactly.”
Snow put her hands on her hips, tipping her head to one side in question. “Then who did?”
When the sprite failed to answer, Snow held out her hand in an invitation for her to land. Heaving a sigh, Annilen settled in her palm, her wings coming to rest behind her and drooping.
“It was Yirrie.”
Snow frowned. That wasn’t good. “Because…?”
“Because you forgot about your fitting.”
Snow rolled her eyes to the heavens. She had forgotten about that, too. “Hurry on ahead. Tell her I’m on my way and will be there soon.”
Annilen dipped a little curtsy. “Yes, my lady.”
Now that Annilen was headed to Yirrie with her message, she took her time walking back to the village.
She hadn’t meant to spend so much time in the forest that morning, but she was drawn to it. Unable to sleep, with the moon bright and beckoning, Snow left her bed, climbed out the window and made her way into the forest. The earth, the wind, the sky all called to her. Even the nocturnal animals sensed her and spoke to her as she walked through the bracken. She was safe here, she knew. Not even Seraphina’s evil could reach here.
And so, she found her way to the foot of Faradill, perched on the forest floor, and attuned herself to the world around her. When the sun started to peek over the horizon, she should have headed home. But the world around her called to her, calmed her, made her feel as though she were a part of it. She had to be a part of it. And she was unable to stop her feet from carrying her farther and farther away from the elven village.
The Wyldwood Forest was populated with all sorts of mystical and magical creatures. From the forest sprites, to the tiny pixies that made their beds within the confines of flower petals, to the wisps that were nothing more than dances of light in the night, to even the wild endangered unicorns. They greeted her as she made her way.
Stepping over a fallen log, a mournful sound echoed through the trees. She halted, her gaze narrowing as she tried to pinpoint where it came from. It sounded again and then a shout which sounded like a man’s voice.
Clutching her skirts in her hands, she ran toward the sound and opened her senses. Something was in trouble, the baleful sound vibrating through her and telling her she was headed in the right direction.
Through the trees, she saw the glint of morning sun off the spiral horn of a unicorn. Around the unicorn’s neck, a rope yanked by a tall, brute of a man. The unicorn’s eyes rolled back as it jerked its head, stomping its hooves and trying to pull away.
Snow stopped, releasing her skirts. She clenched her fists at her sides and closed her eyes, connecting to the nature around her, asking the plants for help.
A thick ivy unwound itself from the forest floor and moved toward the man, wrapping around his legs. Another vine glided down from the trees to slide around his upper torso. And a snake slithered from the underbrush to hiss at him.
He cried out, dropping the rope, his eyes wide with fear as he looked down at his bindings. Snow opened her eyes, satisfied with her handiwork. She took slow methodical steps toward the man who had a thick beard, a wide feral face, dressed as a hunter. She knew these types. Sometimes, they would wander into the forest looking to hunt the creatures that inhabited it. He saw her at last, his terrified gaze landing on her.
“Help me!” he said.
“And why should I do that?” She reached the unicorn and slipped off the rope from around its neck. The horse nuzzled her in thanks.
He was going to steal my horn, the lilting voice said in her mind.
And he was going to kill you for it, she said. She cut a glance back to the man.
“You are a hunter, aren’t you?”
He didn’t answer as he struggled against the vines and the ivy, trying to free himself while keeping a watchful eye on the snake at his feet. The snake that had grown in size and lifted its head up to meet his gaze. He didn’t have to answer because she already knew.
“P-please, miss. Will you help me?”
