Page 26 of Faun Over Me

“I just…I just am, and I’m done having everyone question me. Good night, Avery.” She grabbed her tray from the table and limped away.

12

Avery

There was nothing she could do but watch Cricket leave. She had duties to attend to, campers to oversee, and reports to file. Her job was supposed to be the most important thing in her life right now, but somehow, befriending the faun and healing whatever had broken in their conversation superseded that.

Why?

What was it about Cricket that had thrown her to the forefront of Avery’s every waking thought? When she played piano, she thought of Cricket in the wood, darting from tree to tree with her raspy, playful laugh. When she taught her guitar lesson, she thought of Cricket’s fingers and those metal caps, wondering if the F chord would even present a challenge to the faun.

And now, despite the clamor of the cafeteria, all of her attention was on Cricket limping away. Muscles in those lean legs twitched beneath the bike shorts and flexed in her calves. It was an effort to tear her gaze away, but she managed, dropping it down to the half-eaten Sloppy Joe on her plate. Her stomach turned with the realization that eating meat in front of an inhuman that was part deer was probably insensitive. That Cricket wasn’t eating salads and grains bowls to make a point, but rather because that was what she ate.

Gosh. Is that why she was always so terse with Avery? Because she couldn’t stand the sight of a human eating—Don’t think it—flesh?

“Oh, ew.” She pushed her plate away.

Although, it’s more muscle than flesh. Right? Wouldn’t flesh denote eating one’s own kind? OH.

Her stomach clenched, bile rising in her throat. Did Cricket think she’d been eating ground venison?

Avery rose and grabbed her tray, heading to the trashcans to throw away the rest of her Sloppy Joe. Glancing around the dining hall, she caught Director Murray’s eye. She shot Avery a tight smile and stood, gesturing for her to follow into the kitchen.

Cooky glanced over as they entered, jerking their snout up and wiggling their whiskers in greeting. Pots and pans clanged, held aloft and moved around the counters and stovetop by a multitude of tails. Avery schooled her face. She had come to terms with the fact that a rat the size of a WWE wrestler cooked their meals. It was one of a number of … interesting things she had seen in Elkwater Music Camp, but she still had to fight against the inborn impulse to gag.

“Had an interesting phone call earlier.” Director Murray crossed her arms and dropped a hip against the counter. “From a man named Desmond at Lunar out of Atlanta.”

Avery startled, unsure if she had heard correctly. “Lunar?”

“The firm your father is working with.” Mac nodded, eyes gleaming as a smile spread across her face. “Lunar Asset Management. They want to help the camp find investors. He said something about his colleague being impressed with the grounds and staff.”

“Are you sure—”

“I don’t know what you said during your lunch, but, thank you.” Director Murray lurched forward, wrapping Avery in a tight hug. “This is exactly what we need. If they can help us find investors, I can grow the camp, we can welcome more students and—” She cut herself off, releasing Avery to hit her with a misty-eyed smile. “Thank you, Avery. I couldn’t do this without you.”

“Director Murray, are you sure about this?”

“Please, Avery. It’s Mac.” She squeezed Avery’s shoulders and whirled around, mumbling as she strolled out to the dining hall. “Oh, there’s so much to do. They want to tour the camp; I’ll have to call my dad and get his advice. What kind of wine do you serve investors?”

Avery pressed a hand to her cheek, wincing at the heat flushing her face. She should be excited for Director Murray and the camp—this was what the woman had been working toward. It was what the camp needed, so why did she have this creeping sense of dread?

“If you’re gonna take up space in my kitchen, make yourself useful.” Cooky snapped her leg with a tail and jerked their face toward the sink. “Ain’t gonna do themselves.”

“Yes.” Avery rushed to the sink. “Of course.”

She lost herself to the task, scrubbing through stack after stack of trays, plates, and cups, and ducked out a side door when the last of the campers left for their cabins. Not ready to sit in her cabin with nothing but her thoughts, she paced the length of the dining hall and weighed her options. She could go to the counselor’s office, where her co-workers would be chatting and playing video games, but as much as she didn’t want to be alone, she didn’t have the energy to try and fit in. There was always filing to do, but that would put her in Director Murray’s cabin with Cricket. As enticing as that may be, Avery wasn’t a glutton for punishment.

That left the practice rooms. Avery needed to lock up anyway, so she might as well clear her head by getting lost in the music before she did. She flexed her fingers, her mood already lifting at the thought of her favorite room, with its upright Steinway and a window with a view of the woods. Eager to get there, she cut along the side of the dining hall and onto one of the deer trails the campers used as shortcuts.

This late in the day, the instructional side of the camp was abandoned in favor of cabins and the shadows beneath the bleachers. Clouds stretched across the sky, blocking the moon, and she paused, letting her eyes adjust to the deeper darkness before pressing on.

Avery relished the quiet; only the sound of her footfalls and the rustling of a breeze through the trees were audible and the world was peaceful in the way only the mountains could be.She grabbed her denim skirt and hitched it up to step over a narrow creek, hesitating with one foot in the air as a loud snap echoed through the wood.

Her head swiveled to the trees, her grandmother’s words running through her mind at a frantic pace.

If you hear something in the woods, no, you didn’t. If you see something in the woods, no, you didn’t.

She should look away and keep walking. Keep her head down, make herself small, play dead. But she couldn’t look away, she couldn’t move, because she saw something in the woods and knew, without a sliver of a doubt, that it saw her as well.

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