Faeded Ch 01

~~~ Series Notes ~~~

This piece is part of a series. All of the chapters in this series have been completed. They are submitted to Literotica as a bundle. They should appear at a rate of one per day.

My characters may have biases, attitudes, and beliefs that I do not share. When reading dialogue, please keep in mind who is talking, to whom they are speaking, and whether or not they might be attempting to deceive that person in some way. There is also the chance that they may be ignorant of some fact(s) but believe they know the truth.

My lore is my own. I beg, borrow, and steal - and then fold, spindle, and mutilate. Judge my work on its own merits - not on how well I do or don't follow the path that others have blazed.

If you don't like what or how I write, you might not be my target audience. Raging about it doesn't do either of us any good. If you don't like my stuff, kindly take your business elsewhere.

~~~ Chapter 1 - Fae'd In ~~~

I'd just bought my own place, outside of Welch Oklahoma, bordering Cherokee lands, and was settling in - with the plan to live completely off of the grid. I had a few solar panels for the limited amount of electricity that I needed to run my little travel trailer until I could build myself a house.

My plan was to use concrete blocks and then cover the whole thing in dirt. The idea was that the soil and the vegetation would make the interior easier to cool and/or heat.

So far, all that I'd managed to do was to remove most of the weeds - to try to resurrect the garden that had been built by the previous owners. That feature was the main thing that had clenched this as the place for me to buy - that and a chicken coop with a dozen good laying hens.

For whatever reason, the previous owners were moving to Oklahoma City - ready for the urban life. They could have it, as far as I was concerned. I'd only grown up around smaller-sized towns and communities - and I was ready to give that up for even more peace and quiet. A city the size of our state's capitol held no appeal for me at all.

The rest of my family lived four hours west (and a bit south). My sister, who'd just graduated high school, was still living with mom and dad. She probably would continue to do so - at least for the next couple years - while she figured out what she wanted to do next.

I'd graduated from trade school and should have apprenticed to a local electrician - but the main company in the area where we'd lived had just gotten bought out by an outfit from the nearest city - and I didn't want to be part of something that big.

Grandpa Wells had passed away the year before and I took my share of the inheritance and spent it on my burgeoning empire.

My phone rang and I checked caller-ID. It was Hazel, my sister.

"What's up?" I asked.

"I need a favor," she said.

I made a sound that was as annoying as possible - letting her know that I was already annoyed with her request - and the presumption that I would agree to it.

She laughed at me. The gall! Somehow, she knew I couldn't say 'no'.

"Alright," I sighed. "What is it?"

"Our climbing club is going to Scotland for a few days and I need a travel buddy."

"What happened to Raquel?" I asked.

Raquel was my sister's high school classmate - and long-time climbing partner. Every time I saw anything to do with that Disney movie about the Scottish redhead, I thought of Raquel. Change the cartoon character's blue eyes to amber - and make her a little less strong-willed and slightly less death-defying - and you'd have my sister's best friend.

"Wedding ...," she answered.

"Not hers ...?" I asked - trying not to sound as curious as I really was.

"No, silly," she said.

She hesitated only a second before she couldn't resist needling me.

"You really need to just ask her out. She's a little weird. She might like you."

"Thanks for that," I muttered.

She snickered.

"Now that you've shit on me," I asked her, "what is it that you need? You know I'm not a climber."

"Yes, but you love that camera of yours," she countered. "Look up Inaccessible Pinnacle. You won't want to climb it with us - but the area surrounding it looks like something I think you'd love - for trekking and photography."

I put my sister on speakerphone and searched for the area she was talking about. It WAS something I'd probably enjoy.

"How much?" I asked.

"I talked mom and dad into covering your flight and transportation," she said. "If you'll go with us, take pictures of the club as we climb Inaccessible Pinnacle, and then as we rappel down, then you'll have three days to yourself while we hit the pubs and climb a few less noteworthy summits. You just need your backpack with your gear, your camera, and money to buy whatever food you'll need while exploring."

She gave me the dates for the trip and I told her that I'd think about it. There was nothing to think about. Hazel already knew I'd go. She'd aligned too many planets on my bucket list - and my consent to tag along on this trip was a foregone conclusion.

Two weeks later, I arrived at Mom and Dad's place - so that they could drive my sister and me into Lawton to meet up with the rest of the crew that was going. I glanced at Mt. Scott - which was where my little sister had cut her climbing teeth as a youngster - and developed the passion for her hobby.

When we caught up to the rest of her group, I saw that my backpack and suitcase was almost as big as those of the climbers. I only knew a few of them - so I just sat in the seat, next to my sister, staring out of the window, as she conversed with her climbing buddies on everything they were looking forward to on the trip.

Our flight to Inverness Airport took 17 hours. The bus ride to Skye took another two and a half. I'm not sure any of us slept on the way there - so our first day was mostly spent getting adjusted to the time-change.

I woke from my slumber, bought enough trail supplies to get me by for a few days, and found a place to sit - to look over my maps and planned trekking route - while I waited for the climbers to assemble and for our transport to arrive.

It was a good thing I'd invested in a larger memory card for my camera. I ended up taking pictures of pretty much everything. The club's ascent took several hours - and we'd already burned a couple getting to the base of the thing. By the time they came down, I was a quarter of the way through the capacity on my micro USB card. I was absolutely in love with everything about this island. Hell, that was probably true for the whole country. The climbers had laughed at how many photos I'd taken - just between the airport and the hotel.

I climbed halfway down to the bus with the club members and then gave my sister a hug and told her to have fun at the pubs - but not too much. She laughed and gave me a sisterly shove.

I turned my eyes to the northeast and made for the hills on the other side of the mountain stream that I'd seen. My canteen was full - but I wanted to give the water a taste.

The sun was headed towards the horizon but I still had plenty of time to make my way to the hollow I'd picked for my first night under the starlit skies of Skye. My kit was light. My bed was a sleeping pad and an insulated sleeping bag. My shelter was a tarp (and an emergency blanket, if it got colder than I expected).

I arrived at the stream, leaned on a small boulder to kneel down, and cupped my hand, scooping a bit of water and preparing to bring it to my lips. A silvery fish leapt away, and I turned to watch it splash into the water further downstream.

That was when I swore that I saw a Barbie-doll sized hunter with a tiny bow - clad only in leggings - of greys, greens, and browns. His eyes were full of hatred. He leapt forward and bit me on the wrist.

I tumbled onto my ass, holding my injured hand and scrambling away. I lost my balance, fell backwards, and lost consciousness. Just before I passed out, I swear that his tiny eyes changed from glowing red to wide green orbs that were full of alarm - and then fear.

~~~

I woke as the sky was lightening with the dawning of the new day. I was clothed, lying on my mat. My sleeping bag lay over the top of me. My emergency blanket was stretched out over me and my bed, held to the ground by the weight of dozens of fist-sized rocks.

There was no sign of my attacker. If it weren't for the fact that I was sleeping so much differently than my norm, I might have assumed that I'd just had a long day and had passed out from sheer exhaustion - but the bag laying on top of me - and the stones holding the silvery blanket in place - those things suggested that I'd been tucked in by someone else.

I pulled the blanket free - setting several rocks scattering - and discovered that most of the shit in my backpack had been dragged out by someone - or several someones.

Whoever they were, they'd only taken about half of my foodstuffs. The rest had been gathered in a pile - apart from the rest of my supplies and equipment. Along with my remaining packs of jerky, trail mix, granola bars, and instant meals, there was a little clutch of quail eggs. I assumed they were quail. They were too small to be chicken. Whoever had taken my food had, at least, traded for something else that I could eat.

The rest of my stuff looked to be all here - just scattered - like a dozen little Barbie doll hunters had studied each and every item - trying to figure out what its purpose was - and then tossed it aside to grab another.

As I gathered all of my things, I thought back to the little hunter that I had startled. He was smaller than a Barbie-doll. My sister's dolls were almost a foot tall. (I know this because the neighbor's dog found one once and I had to construct the little cardboard casket so that my sister could give the thing a proper burial.) The tiny hunter was probably more like a span in height - eight to nine inches.

I still would have sworn the whole damned episode was a dream - if not for my emergency-blanket covering being weighted down with rocks - and my stuff all being scattered but not stolen - well - except for the food - which the little fellow (and, likely, some friends) had traded for.

I got all of my shit back into my bag, collecting my cache of eggs into a Ziploc baggie. My little thieves had made the trade; I might as well enjoy their gift. I returned to the stream and looked for my attacker. I found no signs that he'd ever been there.

I knelt, once again, and tasted the water from the stream. It was a bit metallic-tasting - but not bad. I drank my fill, determined to save my canteen for when it was needed.

With that thought, I opened my pack and double-checked my canteen. I unscrewed the lid and sloshed the contents around. It hadn't been emptied or - as far as I could tell - sampled.

I spent the rest of the morning making time - trying to get myself back on the schedule that I had made for myself. I nearly rolled my ankle twice before I decided that hurrying wasn't doing me any good. I slowed my pace to just above normal and pressed on. I didn't stop for lunch. I ate a trail-bar, drank from my canteen, and kept moving.

I waited until almost too late in the day to stop for the night - barely able to see any longer. I wasn't near a stream but I'd already walked farther than I should have - so I found a hollow below the winds and made my camp.

I'd picked up kindling and sticks as I'd trekked across the island. I assembled these, untwisted some hemp twine to make a starting-nest, and used my fire-starter to get it lit. I fed the flames until I had a real fire.

I emptied half of my canteen into a little sauce-pan and got the water to boiling. I added the eggs and set a timer on my phone. When it sounded, I pulled the pan off of the flames and used two sticks like chopsticks to lift my little protein balls from the boiling water. I set them on some gravel to cool.

Once the pan was empty of eggs, I set it in the gravel as well. There was no reason to waste it. As my food cooled, I got my bed made and put out the fire - using gravel and dirt to kill the embers - since I didn't want to waste water.

I cracked and peeled the eggs - and scarfed them down. They were a little gamier than what I was used to - but good and filling nonetheless. I ate a trail-bar as well - and drank the now cooled water from the saucepan I'd used to cook the eggs.

I got everything cleaned up and put away, undressed, slid into my bag, and pulled the emergency blanket over me to spend the night.

~~~

The next morning, I woke to find three more quail eggs next to where I'd had the fire. I looked around for other signs of my mysterious visitor - but there were none. I put the eggs into the baggie and loaded them into my pack where I thought I could keep from crushing them.

By the second evening, I'd gotten myself close enough to being back on schedule that I was able to camp near one of the many freshwater streams. My canteen was full once again - but it would be much easier to eat a filling meal before bed if I didn't have to be so cautious with my water.

According to local regulations, the streams aren't really fishable for food - and I'd brought nothing with me to actually catch anything - but I was curious to see if they held any crawfish or something similar. I never found any. I did, however, get some lovely pictures of a few of the islands residents - red deer, pine marten, and what I think was a European otter. Overhead, I'd spotted a few golden eagles and white-tailed eagles. I was on the lookout for a highland cow - which was supposed to be in the area as well - but so far - they had eluded me - or I was in the wrong part of the island.

I boiled my three eggs, set them aside, and then poured the boiling water into a pre-prepared pouch - to let it steep into a meal. I shelled the eggs and ate those as I waited for the rest of my food to finish.

I got the bright idea to rig up a dead-fall - over a bag of trail mix - to see if I could catch my little egg-trader. It was a simple snare. I didn't want to hurt him. It would set a pile of rocks tumbling and I assumed the noise would be enough to wake me.

I ate my food, packed up my trash, cleaned my equipment, and got myself tucked in.

~~~

The small bag of trail mix was gone. In its place was a little pile of five more eggs. I took my snare apart and rescued the eggs - scooping them into the now-familiar baggie.

I laughed out loud and called out my thanks to my little trader. I had decided that I must have simply startled the little fellow - or momentarily pissed him off by scaring away his prey - and he'd lashed out at me before deciding that maybe we could be friends instead.

Since he'd done what he could to protect me from the elements that first night - and had left me alone to sleep the next two - he couldn't be all bad. As I evaluated the food exchange situation, I decided that he was just a shy trader who liked my sweet treats and was willing to work to track down the eggs to offer in trade.

Assuming that I wasn't traveling across the territories of several of these little scouts, I had a small shadow that had now traveled with me for multiple days.

I checked my phone - to be sure I was back on schedule - and close to my intended course - and trekked on.

One more full day of hiking (as well as the chance to add the highland cow to my collection of Skye photos) and I'd arrive at my final night under the island's starry skies. After that, I'd climb down to one of the manned tourist spots, catch a shuttle, and make my way back to the hotel where Hazel and the others were staying.

Around midday, I looked out over the rolling rock-strewn hills to spot an outline that could, possibly, be my missing mammal. I zoomed in as far as possible. It definitely wasn't my best photo. Honestly, it was one of the worst I'd ever taken. However, I'd finally tracked down my illusive prey.

A smile on my face, I made my way to my final campsite, found the area I wanted, and started on my meal. I cooked and ate my eggs, added a trail bar to top it off, and cleaned up my cook-fire. I set a bag of trail mix and a granola bar on top of a knee-high boulder (one last gift for my little food trader) and got my bed ready.

I thought about my time on Skye, and the coming day's return to the hotel - to rejoin the climbers. That led me to thinking about Hazel's friend, Raquel, and - since it had been a few days since I'd cum - I decided to take things in-hand.

I stepped away from my campsite, closed my eyes to focus on my memory of the sexy redhead, and proceeded to flog Molly. It didn't take long to empty my balls, gasping as I found relief. I tidied myself up and headed to bed.

My emergency blanket was more of a covering than a cocoon - but I'm not used to feeling anything touching me inside of my little nest.

I'm not sure how long I had been asleep - but I felt something brushing over my lips and opened my bleary eyes to see a pretty little amber-headed doll-sized female - curvy and naked - as she hugged my lip and leaned forward to give me a kiss. I faded back into slumber again, dreaming of naked redheads caressing my lips.

~~~

I woke to find myself licking my lips, discarding my weird dreams as a lack of hydration that had my parched tongue searching for moisture - and me dreaming about red-haired water sprites.

I sat up, found my canteen, and took a long drink.

My eyes settled onto the boulder where I had left the food items. There was a large acorn cap in their place. As I stood and approached, I saw that there was also a tiny bow beside the cap. Inside of the cap was a tiny lock of curly red hair.

I scooped up my tiny treasures and placed them in the egg baggie.

I packed away my bed-things, dressed for the day, relieved myself, washed my hands, face and hair in the stream, and refilled my canteen.

I climbed to the crest of the ridge, took pictures of everything around me, and started my descent towards the tourist stop.

A few hours later, I sat at the stop and ate most of the rest of my trail rations as I waited for the mini bus to arrive.

When it did, I waited for the passengers to disembark and make their way to the overlook. I showed my papers (and payment receipt) to the driver and got his assurances that he could get me to where I needed to go.

I waited for his regular tour group to return (and board) and then slid into an empty seat, getting a few curious looks from my fellow passengers. I started going through my photos - to see if there were any bad ones that I should eliminate. They quickly lost interest in me.

A couple hours (and a few stops) later, we arrived at the hotel where I was staying. I thanked the driver and left their group. I had just finished transferring my photos to my laptop when my sister knocked on my door. I went to let her in. She immediately dropped into the computer chair that I'd been sitting in - and began going through the pictures - first the ones of their climb at Inaccessible Pinnacle - and then all of my hiking photos.

"Did you have fun?" she asked.

My mind, of course, immediately went to my daily trade for foodstuffs - but I answered the question she asked instead.

"You were right," I told her. "This was a terrific adventure and I got lots of amazing pictures.

"You did," she said. "I love the little marten. What's the thing on the ridge?"

"Highland cow," I reported. "It was the only one that ever came close enough for a decent picture."

She pulled a picture up on her phone.

"Ah, yeah. That sucks."

"Yeah," I agreed.

"Still. The rest of these are amazing," she said.

"Thanks."

"Can you do a slideshow for the group? Just the climb photos, obviously," she asked.

"Sure," I replied. "I've got my little projector gadget. You wanna see if the hotel has a small conference room we can steal? Otherwise we could probably just do a public one in the commons area."