I hated everything after a session of retching, but my mother always forced me to bite into an apple, even though I would spit it out afterwards. The sweet taste worked wonders for removing any lingering disgust from my mouth. I waited a few minutes, pacing the room and listening to him struggling to breathe in between vomiting sessions. I did not know what made him so sick, and part of me feared it had something to do with Rhylan or whatever had happened by the river.
I knocked on the door to make my presence noted and pushed it open to find him kneeling in front of the toilet, head shoved midway through as the last remnants of his stomach were emptying. As soon as he sensed my presence, he pressed the flush and quickly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I’m done,” Ansgar announced before I even had a chance to ask, so I handed him a face towel and the bottle of water I had brought with me. He took them both gratefully and hurried us out of the bathroom and back into the bed, where he stretched fully, allowing only his head to be raised just a bit higher onto the pillow. His breath sounded low and dragging, muscles tense as though cramps still coiled inside his stomach. I knew better than to offer him food, but when he saw the pizzas and the coke, he smiled lazily and asked if we were watching a story.
“Only if you want to,” I replied and when he nodded with a bit more excitement than natural, I headed downstairs to bring the laptop and arranged it onto a hard pillow on the side of the bed, while Ansgar and I laid in the other, watching the screen from our pillows. I asked if he had any preference, but he only said he wanted to watch one of my favourites, so I selected ‘Coco’, hoping he would like it. I chuckled at the memory of how he had laughed for hours after we’d watched Peter Pan and I admitted that Tinkerbell was my portrayal of faeries until meeting him.
I had a few pieces of pizza, then placed the plate on the nightstand and shifted more onto him, meeting his warmth. Ansgar wrapped an arm around me and pulled me tightly to him as he planted soft kisses on my earlobe. A few minutes into the movie, his breathing had evened and his hand relaxed enough on top of me to know he had fallen asleep again. So I flipped the screen shut and snagged a close by blanket to cover us with, then let myself drift into sleep caught in my love’s embrace.
I woke up to daylight and when I shifted in bed, I was surprised to find Ansgar still sleeping next to me. He was usually the one who woke up at the crack of dawn and by the time I normally rose from bed, he’d done part of his duties and made breakfast.
“Morning,” I turned to him lazily and greeted, pulling myself up enough to reach his face and give him a kiss. “Ansgar,” I shook his body, forcing him awake. He was burning up so badly that the covers were wet underneath him, his face flushed and lips cracked.
“Baby, wake up,” I shifted onto him, shaking him hard, forcing him to react. He slowly, so slowly opened his eyes, as if it was the most effort consuming action.
“You have a high fever,” I stated the obvious, but his eyes, those beautiful eyes that normally swam with shadows, looked dried out. Only soft silver irises remained.
“Hhmm,” was all he said, a murmur he put so much effort into that he fell back to sleep.
I was instantly up and ran into the kitchen to find whatever I could, whatever I had back in this cabin to bring his fever down. My first instinct was to call an ambulance, but I had no phone and we were in the middle of nowhere. Then I tried to call the guard again but no one answered, so I took matters into my own hands and headed to the medicine cabinet, trying to find anything that might help.
I found paracetamol and ibuprofen, I didn’t know which one helped with a fever but those were the only names I recognised and everything else was in Swedish. I blended them up along with some almond milk and strawberry, found a straw and went back into the bedroom, lifting Ansgar’s head enough to make him take a few sips of the drink. He reluctantly did. I removed all the covers and his shirt, then opened all the windows to let fresh air in.
The forest,I discovered with shock. My eyes did not stumble upon the usual sea of green that shifted in the wind. Instead, the leaves had turned brown and amber overnight, similar to that day of the storm, only this time it looked to be across the entire district. Not only the trees but the moss, the grass, everything changed into a million shades of brown, just like...autumn.
The leaves were dying, Ansgar was sick, they had to be connected.
I hurried into the bathroom and grabbed a full load of towels, threw them all into the bathtub and opened the tap to cold water, making sure they all absorbed as much coldness as they were able to, then I hurried back into the kitchen and took out an entire bowl of ice cubes which I then brought into the bedroom and rested on the night stand. I wrapped Ansgar in the cold towels, placing one on each of his arms, one on his chest and one on each leg, while I wiped the sweat from his forehead with another one, a smaller one nestling a few ice cubes and gently pressed them onto his face, his cheeks, his lips and down his neck every minute or so.
I repeated the process for two hours, until there was no ice left and the towels were soaking wet from his still steamy sweat. It was not working, every time I touched his face to check his temperature, I felt it getting higher. Every few minutes I went back to the window to study the forest and my heart sank when I saw the leaves had started to fall, creating an amber carpet on the ground. I needed help.
“Ansgar,” I tried to wake him again to no avail. His skin was turning clammy and his lips were chipped from the fever, from dryness. “I’ll be back soon,” I whispered to him, though I knew he would not, could not hear me and I went outside to try to get help.
I ran towards the river as quickly as my feet could hold me, I felt my calves burning and twitching in pain but I did not care, I needed to find someone, anyone that could help. As soon as I reached the river and crossed to the other side following the path downwards to the cave, I started screaming for help, forcing my voice to echo and penetrate deeper into the woods.
The trees were dying all around me, the moss looked dry and blackening and the leaves of grass looked scorched, no flowers in sight.
“Help!” I shouted for what felt like the millionth time until a figure appeared into a pathway in between the barren willows. “Please, help!” I ran towards the creature, a tall male, as wide as a tree trunk with branching hands instead of fingers. He paused, taking me in with a curious look, his yellow round irises moving up and down my body.
“Please, help!” I retook his attention.
“What do you need, human?” he pressed the last word like an insult.
“The forest is dying,” I shouted, pointing out around me as if he could not see for himself. “Ansgar is sick!” I announced while tears made their way into my eyes. “I need help,” I urged defeatedly, not knowing what else to do.
“The prince signed his deed, little human, and took us all with him,” the faerie replied repulsed, no compassion in his voice.
“What do you mean? He needs help, he’s got a high fever, I don’t know what to give him to make him better. You need to help me, please!” I kept saying that word.Please, please, pleaseeven though it seemed to have absolutely no effect on the creature. I stepped to touch his branched arms, to grab him and drag him with me, hoping that once he saw Ansgar’s state, he could understand my desperation. I don’t know if he took pity on me or of he wanted to torture me even more, but he continued.
“There is no cure for what the prince did, girl. He doomed us all.”
“What are you even saying?” I reprimanded. “I am telling you that your keeper is sick, so he can’t heal the forest today. You need to help me make him better, so he can make your home better,” I tried to make it sound like a trade, but he huffed.
“It isbecauseof the keeper that the forest is dying. It’s dying along with him. The prince chose to save you and doom himself.”
He looked at me, scanned me, as though calculating my unworthiness.
“What?” A wave of a breath barely escaped me.
