Page 52 of Faun Over Me

“What?” he asked, taking a fork and attacking the sprouts and grains on his trencher. “Fool of a faun has been spouting nonsense about these Georgia Men for years.”

“Because it’s true!” she hollered. “And I have proof, which I can show you, but first, we have to get to Elkwater. Avery, she’s—”

“Hosting a fundraising dinner at the camp,” Ramble finished. “She is fine; I spoke with Mac earlier.” They crossed the room, catching Cricket by the arm and guiding her out into a pale purple twilight. “Cricket, what is this about?”

“I went to Marlinton.”

“Oh, Gods.” Ramble smacked their forehead. “Is that where you’ve been? Bosk has been losing his antlers over you all day.”

“I saw the papers, the signatures.” She paced in a tight circle, trying to get out everything she had learned—about the properties, the Georgia Man, and the dinner. The pressure was building within her, the need to go, go now, fast. “And it’s hers, but it’s not. And that man was there, Ramble. He was there, he saw me, and—”

“Cricket.”

“I need the keys; we have to go.” She grabbed her cousin’s arm, all but pulling them in the direction of the trailhead where they had parked the truck.

Ramble planted their hooves. “No.”

“What?”

“I said no.” They jerked their arm out of her grasp and pointed at Cricket. “You need to go home. Get some sleep and get your head on straight.”

“We have to go. The camp is in trouble.”

“I know,” Ramble said, raising their voice to match. “Why do you think I am here? Mac is trying to raise enough money to expand and bring in more teachers and students. We are barely keeping the camp open as it is. She needs investors, but the people with access to that sort of money have a hard enough time accepting Mac, much less that she is married to me.”

“No, no, it’s not that,” Cricket shook her head. “I mean, it is that. Like, wow, that’s a lot to unpack. But the men at the dinner. They’re from Lunar Asset Management.”

“Okay?”

“It’s not okay!” Gods, why wasn’t anyone else capable of seeing what a problem this was? Ramble said they had seen the property tax filings; they said so, so why couldn’t they put this together? “That man works for them!”

“What man?”

“The one at the assessor’s office!” She threw her arms wide, panting in panic. “I saw him at the camp with Avery’s father. They went to lunch, and the signatures matched, but they didn’t, and he was there. Today. Filing more paperwork, and he saw me and he asked how long the drive was to get to Elkwater. Don’t you understand? He works for Lunar Asset. He smelled like lavender and wintergreen, and he’s in the camp with Avery and Mac!” Ramble chewed their lower lip, watching Cricket pace. “The scent was the same. It was on the papers and on him. I smelled it that night. Ramble. Please, we need to go.”

“What ni—” Ramble stopped themself, shaking the thought away. Their ears twitched, only the tips visible under their hair. “I’m sorry.”

“Ramble…”

“Crick, I want to believe you. I want to help you, but I have to put Mac and the camp over whatever you think is going on.”

“Ramble, please.”

“It’s my home, Crick. We have worked too hard for this. One day, you might understand, but what we are trying to build, what Mac is achieving, is setting the tone for broader integration. I cannot put my wife’s goals at risk because some businessman with bad cologne smiled at you.”

“Right.” Cricket straightened, rolling her shoulders back. A cold calm washed over her as she raised her face to the setting sun, little more than a sliver of gold crowning Bald Knob to the west. Ramble wouldn’t help. Her family wouldn’t help. No matter how many times she begged and pleaded, no matter how much evidence she presented, she would always be the faun who cried wolf. Never the faun who was trying to save them, which meant she was on her own. The steadiness of her realization was better than any bandage or balm and without a further word, she walked into the woods.

“Cricket,” Ramble called after her. “Where are you going?”

She didn’t answer. What good would words do? Her cousin had seen the papers, had seen the signatures with their own eyes, and was resigned to stay away. They were resigned to … they were resigned. And why shouldn’t they be? Ramble had found a home outside of Green Bank. They had found a partner who would save them if the worst happened, and what did Cricket have?

Nothing. No one. Her home was being taken from her, the thinnest sliver of hope was in trouble, and no one was coming to save her. No one was coming to save Avery.

So Cricket would save them herself.

“Cricket!” Ramble’s voice was thin through the trees, a faint echo that barely reached her ears. She balanced against a boulder to stretch out her uninjured leg, then rolled the ankle on her injured leg, wincing at the lingering tightness. Though she wasn’t fully healed, whatever latent magic the faun had kept in their fall had healed the wound enough, and Avery needed help.

The Georgia Man had been so confident, so sure that Green Bank wouldn’t be a problem. So certain the holdouts would fall in line. Cricket wasn’t smart enough to puzzle through the what, exactly, but she was clever enough to have ideas.

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