Wild Desire Ch 10

Thanks for reading, loves! I have one more chapter & epilogue planned. Until then, enjoy and thank you for the comments and emails. They really encourage this newbie writer <3

XOXO - Im

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The Wood was eerily silent, just as it had been when she'd walked with her Lord in a dream. Snow lay thick on the ground and blanketed the trees in sparkling, bitter cold mounds. The silence was oppressive, as if the deadly cold snow had eaten up not only the wildflowers but the life of the Wood itself.

"How long has it been this way?" Daniella asked, glancing at Feldspar and Gneiss beside her. Their faces were taut with barely contained fear.

"Since you left," Gneiss bit out. Daniella's heart dropped. The faeries had been creatures of perpetual spring. She had hardly ever seen most of them wearing a full set of clothing, let alone knowing how to protect themselves from sub-zero temperatures. Even in her jacket and hiking boots she was starting to worry about frostbite.

Just as she was about to ask how much farther they had to go, the snow abruptly disappeared. Before her stood a wide circle of bare ground centered around the Meeting Tree. Daniella's body reeled as she tried to adjust to the suddenly thick, warm air. Thick vines curled up and around the redwoods, surging toward the light in a off-kilter mix of jungle and coastal plants. Her eyes sought out the paths she knew should lead to the Meeting Tree, but every inch of ground was covered in thick ferns and creeping vines. Something was very wrong, even here.

"Where is everyone?" she asked.

Feldspar jerked his head up toward the treetops. "After taking refuge here, few leave their trees if they can manage it." His voice shook with barely contained grief.

Daniella frowned. The winter had felt oddly like her Lord. It was the unnaturally thick air and uncontrolled explosion of plant life here that felt unfamiliar and foreboding. Still, she knew she'd have to brave this eerily verdant stretch of the Wood if she wanted to get to him. She didn't need to ask where he was. She felt it like a pull on her chest.

The Meeting Tree was so covered in vines and flowers that it took several minutes for Daniella to find the entrance she knew was there. As she pushed through the stifling plants she could feel them growing, wrapping tendrils around her to push her back out. Daniella gritted her teeth and shoved the grasping plants away from herself and wrestled her way through the opening.

The interior of the tree was almost unrecognizable. Orchids and flowering vines covered every surface, completely obscuring the cozy sitting areas and blocking stairs to the upper levels. Daniella glanced around briefly, taking in the strange scene. It was the Wood, completely untamed.

Her Lord was where she knew he would be, sitting in his throne. She approached him warily. He sitting unnaturally rigid, his eyes stared ahead unseeing. His tanned skin had faded into sickly pallor marked by pale scars. When she reached the foot of the dais her heart plummeted. She couldn't tell if he was breathing. He was so unnaturally still.

"My Lord?" she said, hoping she wasn't too late to stop whatever was happening to him. He didn't respond or give any indication he had heard her.

Daniella mounted the steps to the dais. In the time it took for her to take in and release five breaths she watched his chest rise and fall once. As she leaned in close his eyes shifted to take her in. Daniella met his gaze and felt herself falling even as her body stayed rooted in place. Something unfamiliar and vast was peering out at her from the Lord's face. His eyes were a swirling mix of green and black, the color of the Wood at night. Flecks flitted across his irises like owls gliding through cloudless skies. Glowing lights flickered in and out like the the shine of a cougar's eyes stalking her from the brush.

She realized with dawning horror that she was standing face to face not with her Lord, but with the Wood. She had always assumed her Lord was being poetic when he described his relationship with the Wood. As she saw it staring out from behind his eyes she realized with horror and fascination that the Wood was an entity of deep, ancient, unknowable intelligence and purpose.

Daniella swallowed and reminded herself of all she had learned about faery bargains. "I have come to speak with you about fulfilling the terms of a bargain."

The creature that had been the Lord stared at her for a beat too long. "No bargain," it said. The voice was raspy with disuse and its tongue curled laboriously around the words to form them. Daniella's heart sank. Bargains were the currency of faeries. The Wood was something primordial. Maybe it didn't trade in the same currency. Hesitantly she reached a hand out toward her Lord's face. When there was no reaction, she cupped his cheek, willing whatever shred of him was left to help her.

Immediately the feeling of falling took her. Her senses were stretched paper-thin as her awareness spread out across the wide expanse of the forest. She felt the cold, unnatural snow blanketing the ground, slowly killing its inhabitants. Its wrongness buffeted her senses, leaving her desperate for relief from the endless, awful white. Frantically she threw her awareness even farther, trying to escape the bitter cold. At the edge of the Wood she became aware of a vast absence, hundreds of phantom limbs throbbing in every direction.

She reached out tentatively in the direction of one. It felt like an old wound, sore but scabbed over. And there, on top of the scab thousands of humans were going about their destructive lives, unaware as they poured salt on a tender wound. She flinched back, but the Wood was now behind her, pushing her. Look it seemed to say. Look at what your kind has done to mine.

Daniella smelled stench of the smog-filled air, the unnatural chemicals infiltrating the ground and waterways, the thousands of animals struggling to live amongst ever-expanding humanity. As she turned her awareness back toward the Wood again, she was overwhelmed by its sorrow. There were no words, just the infinite depth of grieving for lost sisters, brothers, mothers, fathers. The Wood was an orphan, she realized. It had felt as bits of its kin were razed and turned into farms, houses, shopping malls and parking lots. Now it was cut off from the natural world that had once been unending. It was an island of safety and purity, struggling to live in the midst of its enemies.

As the understanding came to her, the Wood began showing her things. It showed her how the Lord and his people had cared for it over centuries, tending to the delicate balance that kept it safe. She watched in fascination at the intricate dance between the faeries and their home from the Wood's perspective. In the beginning the faeries had been clumsy in their attempts to live harmoniously. Over the years they refined their ways, hurting the Wood less and healing its wounds more. She saw her Lord when he first arrived in the Wood, grieving and bloody, from some unknown place. The Wood had understood him innately and he it. He naturally moved in perfect synchrony with the Wood and taught the other faeries to do the same. With time the Wood let him into its heart and chose him as its protector and partner.

She watched the love he had for the Wood and for his people, and felt the love the Wood had for him. Over the years humans made their way in occasionally, unthinkingly hunting game, trampling young saplings, and leaving refuse behind. Each trespass caused the Wood more pain, reminded it of all the forests lost beyond its borders. Trauma layered on trauma, Daniella thought, as she felt the endless, echoing rage and pain the Wood felt. Each time the Lord exacted retribution in the exact measure needed to quell the Wood's rage and grief.

Then came the day Professor Craven entered the Wood. She watched as he tracked the singular iridescent butterflies of the Wood through the shadows of the forest and across the sunlit meadow. His eyes alight with greed and the thrill of discovery, he captured one in his jar of ether. It beat its wings fruitlessly against the lid of the jar and the Wood raged impotently as it watched the life seep out of its child.

Years of loss crashed over the Wood and it made its demand to the Lord. He carried out its justice: a life for a life. Only this time he tired of being the Wood's sword. He offered mercy, a life of servitude rather than a life cut short. Though it wasn't what the Wood had intended in its rage, it accepted the Lord's tempering influence.

Daniella watched through the Wood's eyes as she met her Lord for the first time. To it, she was an unexpected boon from the bargain the Lord had struck. For centuries the Lord had stood apart, keeping balance between the faeries and the Wood. Through the Wood's eyes she saw herself as someone who offered a counterpoint to its beloved faery lord. She could share his load and balance him, and through that sustain his ability to serve the Wood for a long time. It pressed its will into the Lord, all but forcing him to keep her in Professor Craven's place.

Despite its efforts, the Wood was disappointed in the end when the Lord let Daniella go. A fissure cracked between the Lord and the Wood. He offered his name and himself and the Wood took it joylessly in payment for Daniella's debt. The perfect harmony between them could not be repaired. The Lord's regret over keeping Daniella doubled back into resentment toward the Wood.

The day their partnership crumbled, the snow had started to fall. Winter was part of the natural order of things, and the Wood did not give it much notice until the time for spring and eventually summer had passed. Its children were dying in an endless winter and still the Lord showed no interest in repairing his relationship with the Wood.

Unless the Lord was able to make peace it saw no choice but to take the life it was owed. It was the only way to restore balance. Unless, of course, it was able to bring back both the object of the bargain and the source of its conflict with the Lord: Daniella. And so call her back it had.

As soon as she had some measure of understanding, Daniella was thrust back into her own body. She yanked her hand back and stared at the ancient thing lurking behind the Lord's eyes. Recognition crept through her mind. The pale streaks across his skin were rough and pale. It was aspen bark, she realized with horror. The Wood couldn't expel the Lord in order to restore balance. Instead it would consume him utterly. A flush of adrenaline swept through her a beat after the initial shock of realization. It was turning him into an aspen tree and adding him to its grove.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered as she stared into his eyes. Sorry for her lover, sorry for the Wood behind his eyes. It wasn't enough but it was the best she could offer in the face of millennia of pain humanity had caused. She closed her eyes and sank to her knees. What could she possibly offer this ancient being who was filled with incredibly deep love, pain, rage and grief?

"Let's not talk about bargains," she said slowly. "Let's talk about balance." She set her backpack down and pulled out a worn manila envelope.

"Look," she commanded, placing the envelope in the Lord's hands. It slipped from his paralyzed hands and fell to the floor. Only his eyes moved, too slow to track its fall.

Daniella sighed and picked it up. She pulled out a few newspaper clippings and turned them around for him to see.

"University dismisses disgraced professor, strips him of rank"

"Sexual harassment and abuse scandal rocks university"

"Federal agency opens investigation into mishandling of endangered species"

The Wood stared blankly at the papers, then lifted its eyes to hers. "Professor Craven came here uninvited and he took a life, for nothing more than satisfying his greed and pride. He bargained in return and rather than fulfilling that debt himself, he took another life: mine. So I took his life. I took his reputation. I took his career. I took his money. Even his friends and wife have abandoned him."

The Wood considered this for a long time. "This is not death," it said ponderously.

"Is it really living if you don't have love? If your purpose and talents are taken from you?"

"It is living death," the Wood responded hollowly. The pit in Daniella's stomach widened. The Wood was heart-wrenchingly familiar with loss worse than death.

"Yes," she agreed softly. "A living death."

The Wood watched her silently and expressionlessly. Daniella placed a hand tentatively on the Lord's cheek. "He deserved what he got, but I didn't come back just to tell you I got revenge."

She reached into her bag and held her breath as she revealed her most precious cargo. She unwrapped several layers of tightly wound padding to reveal a glass terrarium. She held it up for the Wood to see. Vibrant, iridescent caterpillars munched on leaves inside the tank, oblivious to the journey they'd taken to get home.

"Professor Craven visited several times and on those trips he captured some of these beauties and hoped to breed them. I took them and their offspring. I know they can't replace the butterfly that was lost, but I hope their return will ease some of the pain."

Light like a sun-soaked meadow filled the Lord's dark eyes, turning them a pale yellow-green. When the Wood spoke its voice was soft as a summer breeze. "Yes," it said. One word that seemed to carry so much meaning. It understood Daniella's offering.

"Death. New life. We accept." That was all the Wood said before disappearing from the Lord's eyes like a candle snuffed out.

The Lord's eyes closed and he slumped sideways. Daniella let out a surprised cry and darted forward to catch him. She grunted as she caught him. He looked thinner than normal but he was still much bigger than her. She needed a doctor or a witch or — she had no idea what she needed, come to think of it. She tensed at the sound of running footsteps behind them and was relieved when Feldspar and Gneiss appeared next to her.

Daniella sent Gneiss to take the caterpillars to the butterfly grove while she and and Feldspar wrestled the Lord up to his home in the treetop. She was profoundly grateful for Feldspar's stature and balance as he hoisted the Lord over his should to climb up the ladder into his home.

Feldspar laid the Lord down on his bed. He was breathing steadily but his color was still unnaturally pallid. The streaks of tree bark remained on his skin. Daniella looked to Feldspar for direction. He was staring vacantly at the Lord, apparently unsure what to do next. Daniella drew in a breath.

"Right. Do you have a doctor? A healer?" she asked briskly. Feldspar nodded shakily. "Good. You go get them and tell the rest of the faeries it's safe to come out now. Delegate someone to take a head count and make sure all the faeries are accounted for. Then we can organize teams to assess injuries, food stores, and damage to the rest of the Wood. Sound good?"

Feldspar looked relieved to have orders to follow. He disappeared back down the tree in the blink of an eye. Daniella looked back down at Malachite. He looked so vulnerable in sleep. His hair was matted with vines and leaves that had grown around him. She wrinkled her nose as she examined his clothes. He was wearing one of his more formal tunics and pants, crusted over with dirt and blood as if he had been injured trying to fight off the Wood itself. Her heart ached to imagine what he had been through since she'd left.

She knelt on the edge of the bed and went to work. She pulled off his pants, grimacing at the stiffness of the fabric. She gently eased them over his hips, keeping her touch as clinical as possible. It wasn't anything she hadn't seen before, but she tried not to peek. Once the pants were off she tossed them in a basket for washing. Or maybe burning, she thought ruefully. She pulled a soft knit blanket over Malachite's lower body and carefully worked his tunic over his head.

She surveyed his naked chest. Streaks of the same aspen bark marred his perfect form. The skin around the bark was irritated and bloody in places. She winced, remembering how unnaturally still he had kept himself. It must have been so painful.

Daniella retrieved bowls of warm water and cloths from the bathroom and began washing him from head to toe. She carefully combed her fingers through his hair, pulling vines, twigs and leaves from his once-soft waves. She worked meditatively, passing a damp cloth over his skin, rinsing it, and repeating the motion until the worst of the dried blood and mud had been blotted away and her bowl of water was brown.

She kept her touch as light as possible, though she sometimes found herself scrubbing him roughly, mindlessly focused on getting his skin clean. When she realized she looked up at his face guiltily. He never stirred. As she worked down his torso she saw the blanket over his lap twitch. She stilled with momentary uncertainty. It was just his body responding naturally. It was nothing to read into. Still, she caught herself stealing glances at the growing bulge under the blanket more than she wanted to admit.

She had to change her bowls of water three times before he was reasonably clean. His skin was dusted with goosebumps though the room was warm. Daniella pulled the blanket over him and smoothed his hair back from his forehead.

She rummaged through his wardrobe until she found his favorite pair of lounge pants and a soft t-shirt to put on him. Once she'd accomplished that she went to the kitchen and pulled out his supply of healing herbs and took note of his dismayingly bare cupboards. She'd need to ask Feldspar to bring up food when he came back.

She'd just dragged an armchair into the bedroom when she heard Feldspar come in. The healer he'd brought was a visibly aged faery woman, her face surrounded by a halo of soft white hair. Daniella moved aside in instinctive deference. She could only imagine how many centuries the woman had lived in order to be old enough to looked aged.

The healer bent to listen to his breath and heartbeat. She lifted each of his arms and examined the tributaries of veins running down his wrists. She palpated his torso and studied the strips of skin that had turned to bark. At last she stepped back. Daniella and Feldspar watched her expectantly.

"The Lord is well," she said dismissively. "He is weakened, only. Give him a draught for pain and feed him when he wakes."

Daniella stared at her in disbelief. "His skin has grown pieces of bark," she snapped, gesturing at the streaks that marked his chest and face. "That's not normal."

The wizened faery woman gave her a bored look. "It is understandable for my Lady to worry. His condition is as I said." With that she gave a short bow to Daniella and retreated back down the tree. Daniella blinked. She hadn't expected that title nor the bow, dismissive as the old woman was.

She had Feldspar show her how to make his pain tonic, writing the recipe as he demonstrated. She spent the rest of the day trying to keep busy instead of fretting at the bedside. She tidied Malachite's home and restocked his pantry, checking on him frequently.

By early evening Daniella was exhausted. It was hard to believe she had left her apartment early that morning. She tucked the blankets around Malachite again and curled up in the armchair with a book, drifting asleep almost immediately.

A noise woke her in the pitch-black depth of the night. Daniella tumbled into wakefulness, adrenaline coursing through her as she sorted out where she was. As she remembered the events of the day she realized the noise that had woken her had come from Malachite. She pushed herself upright and lit a lamp.