Page 59 of Faun Over Me

Avery twisted into Cricket. She wrapped her arms around her back and buried her face in Cricket’s chest as she whispered the soothing words Avery should have heard every damn day of her life. “So gods damned brave and beautiful.”

Troy snarled. Avery’s nails dug into Cricket’s back. He launched across the glade and—

An arm the size of a tree trunk swept him out of the air. He let out a high-pitched yelp as his back hit an actual tree, bones snapping like twigs. Pine needles rained down on Cricket and Avery, shook loose from the impact.

His body fell, lifeless, and landed like a sack of potatoes on the ground. A cloud of dust and leaves rose, fluttering back to the earth without fanfare as a terrible stench filled the air.

Avery gagged. She turned her face, and Cricket palmed the back of her head. “No.” Pressing just the tips of her fingers against her skull, she urged Avery to look away. “You don’t want to see this.”

“Is he—?”

Before Cricket could answer, the temperature in the glade plummeted, turning their trembles of fright into outright shivers. A wave of decay and rot followed. Cricket gagged and pressed her nose to Avery’s hair, inhaling the sweet florals and salt that was her as she witnessed a true terror stalk into view.

Taller than Troy, taller than the topmost points of her father’s antlers, the beast that stepped from the shadows was massive and monstrous. A nightmare brought to life.

Shreds of withered velvet peeled from twelve, no, fourteen? Cricket squinted, fighting a roll of nausea as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. Fourteen-point antlers warped to sixteen, to ten, to twelve again, as if her brain were trying to make space for this creature in all that it knew of the world, seeking relations to the faun, to earthly elk and deer, and unable to make any singular image stick.

It hurt her eyes, so she stopped trying to count, dropping her gaze away to view the bald skull of its face and blazing, eldritch eyes stacked over a gaunt, massive frame.

Exposed ribs enclosed a hollow chest. Every muscle was sinewy and root-like, the veins of its arms withered in the moonlight.

Without sparing a glance at Cricket and Avery, the terror loped for Troy’s body, grabbing the lifeless douchebag and dropping him over one bony shoulder like a sack of wheat.

Only then did it turn toward Cricket. The blaze in those horrible eyes did not flicker. It did not falter, and she felt, rather than saw, its attention drift to Avery, taking in how she clung to Cricket. How Cricket held her close and dear.

That horrid attention again rose to Cricket, and the creature nodded once before turning to the wood and disappearing into the shadows of the trees.

A frigid, rancid breeze followed, pricking her ears with the barest rasp of a whisper:

“Take care, little sister.”

It was a very, very long beat before Cricket was able to speak again.

“What the fuck was that?”

“An old friend,” a soft, breathy voice answered. Another inhuman appeared from the wood, thin and wispy enough that Cricket half thought she’d drift away on the next breeze. Moon-pale hair rose around a face gleaming ivory white, and though a long bathrobe obscured her feet, Cricket was fairly certain the inhuman was floating. “One of the first to fall through, long, long ago. This world has not been kind to him, but he survives on the stories that are told.”

“I don’t—”

“I will not dishonor him by speaking his name,” the newcomer said. “He does not care for defamation.” She glanced around the glade, large, dark eyes taking in the shards of deer skull, broken twigs, and blood. “Honestly, I am surprised he did not shred that impostor to bits right here.” She cocked her head at Cricket. “He must like you. Avery certainly does.”

At the sound of her name, Avery pressed against Cricket’s hand, still cupping the back of her head. “Sanoya?”

“And my Hidebehind.” Sanoya gestured to the trees. “We heard everything; how terrible for you.” The shadows at her back nodded. Cricket closed her eyes, shook her head, and squinted past Sanoya.

The shadows waved.

“I will happily speak with the authorities,” Sanoya continued. “The humans in these hills have long trusted the word of the moon-eyed.”

“What,” Cricket croaked.

Sanoya drifted closer, bending at the waist and peering at the pair. Her delicate features blurred to nothing, drawing all of Cricket’s attention to the large round orbs of her eyes like a moth to the flame. Deep as the caves riddling the hills, black as night save for the gleaming crescent of a moon serving as a pupil. Eyes she could stare at for hours. Days. Weeks. A lifetime.

“About Avery’s father and that nasty werewolf.” Sanoya straightened, snapping whatever spell had been cast between them. Cricket’s arms tightened around Avery, and she cast a glance around the glade, half expecting to have been caught by those eyes long enough for the sun to rise. “Come along, let us get you back to camp. The students are in an uproar, and Director Murray is about to fall to bits.”

“I don’t think we can walk,” said Cricket.

“That is alright.” Sanoya gently pried Avery away from her, lifting her into a bridal carry with ease. “I am stronger than I look.”

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