Lincoln St. George watched the oranges and browns of the autumn trees whizz by out the car window. It had been a long trip from Virginia, but it was almost over.
"We're almost there, and this still doesn't even feel real," he said, turning to look at his father.
Quinn glanced at his son before quickly shifting his gaze back to the road.
"I know how you feel, Lincoln. I'm having a hard time believing it myself."
Nobody in the entire family knew that Quinn's father Kellen St. George had a house in upstate New York. It was a secret the old man took to the grave, and was only made known when it was mentioned in his will.
I give my small property in New York State to my grandson, Lincoln. It is free for him to live in as soon as he wishes.
Lincoln, who preferred to be called Link, was a man of 28 who had been living in a small apartment when his grandfather passed. He was immediately interested in the prospect of a quiet home, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. With the help of his family, he was ready to move in around a month. Movers had already transported the bulk of his belongings, and this was the final transfer. All that remained was his car, some clothes, and the essentials he used all the time: his phone, computer, and all of his art supplies. Link had a lot of those: Posca markers, multimedia paper, fineliners, Blackwing pencils, and hundreds upon hundreds of alcohol markers. Altogether it filled three boxes.
From birth, Link loved drawing. It was something he did every day, and had a natural talent for it. Even though he never took any art classes in college, in fact he majored in business, he was able to sell his work online and live modestly. He loved everything about drawing, it was a way for him to express himself better than he ever could with words.
Link looked back at his father. There was something he'd been meaning to say the whole trip, and he knew he wanted to get past it before they arrived.
"Dad?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you wish Grandpa had given you the house?"
There was a few moments of silence.
"Well, I never even knew about it before this, so it's not like I was planning around it." He knew that wasn't really answering his son's question, though. Lincoln wanted to know if it bothered Quinn that his father had kept this house secret from his only son to then give it to the grandson he didn't spend all that much time with. Their interactions were limited to a few visits a year, if that. He knew that Lincoln wouldn't be satisfied with the answer he gave. Quinn had learned a long time ago that it was always best to be as direct as possible with him.
"Look, I can't say it doesn't bother me at all, but any qualms I have are with Dad, and I can't talk with him now. All the same, you're still my son, and I'll always be happy to see you get opportunities. That's what being a parent means."
Link nodded and didn't press the matter further.
Finally, they arrived at the small house, surrounded by an acre or two of forest. The family had expected the place to be in disrepair, but it was surprisingly well-maintained in the decades since it was last lived in. Kellen must have paid people on the side for upkeep. All they had to do was turn the utilities back on and add some newer services like wi-fi.
The two men spent a couple hours unpacking boxes the movers had dropped off. There wasn't all that much and the house was small, so it didn't take very long.
Before dark, Quinn was ready to leave. He had called a taxi to the airport and was waiting on the porch with his son.
"Remember, this isn't a free pass to live your life in solitude." Link already knew his parents worried he would be lonely and not try to fix it by meeting new people. He was an introvert who spent most of his free time alone.
"Yeah, yeah. I promise not to become a hermit in the woods."
The taxi arrived and Quinn looked to his son. Lincoln had already said his goodbyes to his mother and older sister when they left Virginia, and this was the final goodbye before he started making a home in this new house.
The two had always been close. They didn't look much alike, Quinn was white and Lincoln took more after his black mother. Still, they had a bond that could only be formed with family. Link gave his dad a big hug.
"Goodbye. I love you so much."
"I love you too, kiddo."
Link watched the taxi drive away until it was out of sight, then stayed for a few moments more before going inside.
Unbeknownst to him, a bluejay high up in the trees had been intently watching what was going on all day. Once the younger man was inside the bird flew down to the ground before transforming into a red fox.
The fox's lips formed a little smile.
Finally,
she thought.
I have a new one.
*****
Link was adjusting well to his new house. He'd been living there for about a week and was getting used to a new routine. He was a person who found comfort in repetition, so he was quick to carve out what he wanted to accomplish each day.
He'd get up early, have breakfast, and start work around 8 AM. He'd then start work on any commissions he had until lunch. Once he was done eating, he would work some more, this time on his own projects, for a few more hours. He tried to get at least 6 hours of work in on weekdays, though it hardly felt like work at all.
He had already set up a desk he could use for drawing, but also liked to bring his supplies outside and draw there while the weather still allowed it. This was a beautiful forested area, and he was able to draw some inspiration from his surroundings. Every so often he'd look up and see a bird or a small animal nearby. He just saw a rabbit that had been watching him curiously hop away before looking back down at his sketchbook again.
The rabbit stopped moving when she was out of sight. She had been observing this man in various forms and had seen all she felt she needed to. It had become boring just sitting back and watching, and she was tired of trying to stay hidden. It was time to put things into motion.
The rabbit transformed into a red fox and made a yipping noise. When there was no response she tried again a little bit louder. This time she heard movement coming from the other side of the house.
Link had gotten up to investigate the yelps he heard and saw a red fox sitting there, looking directly at him. The little animal tilted its head, as if it was expecting something.
"Are you okay?"
No response, as expected. He approached more and the fox stayed still. It was staring intently. Suddenly, the fox closed the distance completely and stood directly in front of Link. He was wondering what was going on when everything changed in an instant.
Suddenly, where the fox had stood was a small, strong-looking woman in deerskins and beaded jewelry. Link yelled in surprise and stumbled back so hard he fell to the ground.
"So this is the legacy of Kellen St. George? I can't say I'm impressed."
Link blinked a few times, reeling.
"You knew Grandpa? Wait, no," he shook his head, like he was trying to wake himself up from a dream. "Who are you?"
The woman smiled, her deep red eyes glimmering mischievously.
"I am the spirit of this forest. This land is my domain, and everything in it belongs to me. That includes your home, and you, as long as you live here."
Link had no idea what to say.
"You seem confused. It appears that Kellen didn't tell you about me before he gave you this house. Some explanations are clearly in order."
The flustered man ran a hand through his hair. What had he gotten himself into with this?
