Page 16 of Faun Over Me

“Praying.”

“Why?”

Avery cracked open one eye, peering up at Cricket. “Because it’s what you do.”

She glanced around the dining hall at the other counselors and the campers. Chatting, eating, laughing. “No one else is doing it.”

Her head jerked up, neck crawling red. She flipped her hand at the dining hall at her back. “No, they aren’t, okay? They think it’s weird, too.”

Cricket glanced around their table, shoved in the furthest corner of the room and curiously empty when she’d taken her seat only moments before Avery joined her. Her stomach dropped, and she took in the human girl with fresh eyes.

“I didn’t say it was weird,” she said. “I just asked what you were doing.”

“You … don’t think it’s weird I pray before my meal?”

She gave the question a beat, feigning thinking about it before responding, “I mean, I didn’t say it wasn’t.”

Avery’s chin tucked, her head tremoring in tiny surprise, and then she unleashed a peal of giggles that rang like a bell. “I knew it! You do think I’m weird.”

“Yeah, well, tomato, lycopersicum.”

Campers streamed past, chatting and laughing, some holding hands and scurrying into the dark. The sun had set since she entered the dining hall, and now, in the dark and alone, Cricket had no idea where to go. She leaned on her new crutch as she scanned the crowd for a counselor or Nurse Almaden and found neither.

“Need help?” Avery skipped down the stairs, skirt flouncing around her ankles and twisting between her legs. She scowled, tugging the fabric free and tossing it aside with a huff.

“Do you?”

“What?” Avery’s eyes widened. Lights strung along the central path of the camp reflected in the blue, bringing to mind planets gleaming in a spring dusk sky. “Oh, no. It’s just the skirt; it gets in the way.”

“Then why do you wear it?”

“You are full of questions tonight, aren’t you?” Avery smiled as she walked by, stopping after a few paces to call back. “Are you coming?”

“Depends. Where are you going?”

“Shortcut to the Director’s Cabin.” She pointed at a trail running along the side of the dining hall. “It’s about a ten-minute walk if you take the main trail, but if we shortcut behind the field, it’s closer to five.”

Cricket flexed her hoof, swallowing a wince as a sharp pang warbled up her shin. “Okay then.” She followed Avery around the building and out onto a large grassy field. In the low light bleeding from cabins and the dining hall, she could make out bleachers and light poles black against the sky. Avery kept close to the low-lying building running the length of the bleachers, walking at a hurried pace that Cricket struggled to match.

“Hey, slow down.”

“What?” The human glanced over her shoulder, slowed, and then stopped, waiting for Cricket to catch up. “Sorry, I didn’t want to bother anyone.”

“Bother who?” She glanced around, ears pricking at the quiet. The purposeful quiet. She peered under the bleachers, picking out shadows that were deeper than they ought to be. Avery cleared her throat, the sound coming from much closer than Cricket anticipated. Less than a hand-span away, Cricket could feel the girl warming as if she were blushing from head to toe, the heat of her embarrassment radiating off of her in waves.

Her ears pricked, shooting upright from her curls and swiveling toward the sound of a low moan coming from the shadows. Realization struck, and she laughed. “Oh, my Gods.”

“Ssh!” Avery grabbed her wrist lightly, tugging Cricket into movement.

Her grip was strong, not soft like she would have guessed from Avery’s appearance and demeanor. But then again, she was a musician. Cricket only played panflute, but a few members of her family had branched out to other human instruments. Guitar and banjo were the most popular—their extra knuckled fingers lent the faun an advantage, and the hours of practice strengthened their hands. The lack of fingernails was a bit of a hurdle at first. To get around it, the faun who had picked up those instruments wore metal caps on the tips of their fingers, the ends hammered to a nail-like point, and the necessity had become a fad among Cricket’s generation.

“It’s a shortcut, I promise,” Avery muttered over her shoulder.

“And a well-known one at that.” Cricket snickered, craning her neck around to spy on the lovers under the bleachers. “How many are down there?”

She thought she heard Avery grumble, “I don’t know,” but whatever she said was lost as she cut between two buildings. The narrow width of the breezeway forced them to walk single file. Avery dropped Cricket’s wrist, and she adjusted herself to face forward rather than hobble at an angle. The wood panels of the buildings brushed her shoulders on either side, and she shuddered.

“It’s really tight.”

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