A word from AD:
Despite the incredibly cheeky title, this is perhaps one of the saddest stories I have written. Sorry in advance.
AD
*****
WINTER WHITE AND THE SEVEN WHORES
The evening air is cold and sharp as the last warmth of fall gives way to its successor. The rough hand of the huntsman bites into Winter's wrist as he is half dragged among the fallen leaves, deeper into the forest than he has ever ventured before. He is frightened; tears roll down his porcelain child face while his muffled cries come out in a puff of smoke like a dragon. The large man shoves him down to the ground. He pauses, towering over Winter like a demon, cloaked in darkness. He pulls a knife from his belt.
"I'm sorry about this boy, but orders are orders. I need to take your heart," though the words seem regretful, the seasoned killer speaks them with little remorse.
"Please," Winter begs; he shivers uncontrollably against the cold night though his body feels nothing other than fear. His tiny voice whispers, "Please, I will run into the woods and never come back."
The huntsman hovers over him, knife suspended in the air. Looking down upon the young boy with skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood and hair as black as night, he knows that there is no way for him to survive this evil forest or the wretched, long winter. He knows that the boy he ripped out of the safety of his warm bed, amidst a sweet dream, who is only dressed in his sleeping gown will not last the night. The huntsman sheathes his knife, turning his back to the child, "Run and never come back."
...
Daphne leans back against the large black tree behind her. She looks up through its still green leaves which filter the sunlight from shining directly on her, capturing its warmth for themselves, leaving the grown below shaded from both light and snow. She stifles a yawn with one hand, drawing in a large breath of icy winter air, running the other over her long bow. Her fingers trace the intricately carved familiar designs as they have many times before. Passed down in her family over several generations, the bow is made from a branch fallen from the very tree she leans against; its value is beyond measure as the Spirit of the Forest never idly sheds a flower or a leaf and only on one other occasion has parted with a limb.
In her full size form, Daphne is taller than most sylvans though when compared to a human female she would be considered petite. Her features are similar to the rest of her race-she shares the same sun kissed golden skin, thick chunky brown, unruly hair with a pair of fuzzy moth-like antennae jutting out of the front and a jewel-like circle on her forehead but unlike everyone else, her eyes are an uncanny, vibrant new leaf green instead of an earthy brown. Though, like their human counterparts, Sylvans vary in size and shape, their main distinguishing feature are their wings as the rest of their appearance generally lacks much variety. Like her eyes, Daphne inherited her wing shape from her mother: a large, thick pair of swallowtails. But their color—that she got from her father and it is one unique solely to his family tree—starting with the deepest of black at the top, they fade into a bright blue by the bottom and are accented with tiny speckles of white.
With the exception of their antenna and wings, sylvans appear human. Some say that at one point they shared a common ancestor, others say that the destructive nature of the humans caused the evolution of the sylvans, or that the human race started from an outcaste sylvan who had his antenna and wings removed before being banished. Regardless of how any of them came into being, in the eyes of the humans, the sylvans are no more than a myth, a make believe story meant to frighten children of the dangers of the forest and warn the adults of wastefulness. And that is just how they prefer it.
After spending three quarters of her life in fairy form, just as all of her people do, she has found these past few months as a full size creature a little taxing. As the guardians of the forest, sylvans normally spend three seasons as a tiny fairy tending to the trees, while their one full sized season is spent protecting their home fortress. Though her normal off season is winter, at the beginning of fall she returned to the fortress with the rest of the eligible female sylvans for the Awakening of the Spirit.
When the summer comes to an end, the Spirit secretes a bright red liquid from which all women must drink. Once the last has had a sip, the Spirit chooses a new High Priestess. The color of her jeweled eye changes from gold to red, at which time the marking of the Priestess appears on her forehead. It is then her duty to remain full sized for a year, to protect the Spirit. She remains within eyesight of the tree at all times, even sleeping under it at night. When her time is up, her third eye returns to gold, but her markings remain for the rest of her life so that other sylvans know she has served her time.
At the end of summer Daphne returned from the forest for the first time as she had just reached eligibility at the age of sixty-seven sets of seasons; though to a human that would be a long life time, as a sylvan she has just finally reached adulthood. None were as surprised as she when it was her third eye that turned red soon followed by the thick black markings of the High Priestess on her forehead. Usually the Spirit picks an older, more mature woman, one who has already found a mate and perhaps had a few offspring. While Daphne was looking forward to the thought of being courted all winter, she now has put any notion of it out of her head for her duty is to protect the Spirit at all costs, even if that means her life is to be forfeit.
Daphne's antennae flicker, picking up the vibrations of quiet, even footsteps behind her as they draw closer. As stealthily as possible, she notches an arrow. Then with one fluid, swift movement she draws it back while whipping her body around.
"Nice try, Adras," she says casually, as she knew it was him, just as it always is him. He sees it as a challenge to catch her off guard.
With a slightly crooked smile, he bows after finally making his way to her, "Hello, High Priestess."
Daphne releases the tension on her bow before loosening the arrow and placing it back into her quiver. She looks at the large, handsome sylvan before her, surprised to find him fully dressed in golden armor, "I see congratulations are in order," she says as she offers a small smile, "You've been promoted?"
"Yes, thank you. I am now Fall and Winter Head of the Home Guard," though he does so unintentionally, his posture straightens and his chest puffs out just a little.
