Page 64 of Faun Over Me

“Hello, Cervid Bosk,” Avery said without missing a beat.

Every faun in the room blinked in surprise at her use of the proper title. Thistle recovered first, patting Cricket’s shoulder and whispering, “Well done.”

“I didn’t—”

A wink from Avery shut her mouth. Of course, she’d learned the proper way to address the faun. The real surprise here was that Cricket hadn’t assumed that she would.

Pride bubbled in her chest, giving her the courage to step beside Avery as she explained why they’d come. “The camp owns the land,” she finished. “As long as Elkwater is open, there’s a permanent place for your family. With electricity and access to running water, and—”

“I am sure my daughter has told you already,” Bosk cut her off, “the faun have no interest in leaving Green Bank.”

“Then don’t,” Avery fired back. “If you want to stay, stay. Keep uprooting your dwellings and your children, but don’t hold back the members of your family who want to settle somewhere for more than a week at a time.”

“You could not possibly understand—”

“No, you’re right. I couldn’t. But I’m trying to.” Avery squared her shoulders, lifting her chin as she stared down the seven-foot faun looming over her. “There’s a whole wide world out there, a world you can be a part of like the wolven and the naga.” Bosk scowled, wide mouth twisting down, and Avery shook her head. “I’m not explaining this very well. What I’m trying to say is that there is a place for the faun. Here.” She pointed to the ground beneath her feet. “And for those who want to wander further afield, there’s room at Elkwater.”

“What do you mean ‘here’?” Thistle asked. Bosk jerked his head around to glare at his wife, and Cricket stepped forward, grabbing her mother’s soft hand before her father could raise his voice.

“Avery owns the land,” she explained, then cringed. “Sort of. A lot of it is being held up in court or escrow. Something like that, it’s wildly confusing, but what matters is, it’s her signature on the property taxes and deeds.”

“Forged.” Bosk’s nostrils flared.

“Regardless, the land was sold through land contracts, which the previous owners are funding. My mom’s lawyers can explain it better than I can, but what it comes down to is that the land is being held in trust under my name, and the attorneys are working with the previous owners to ensure nothing like this ever happens again.”

“Impossible,” he snorted, burly arms crossing over his chest.

“Hardly,” Avery chuckled in reply. “You’ve never met my mom’s lawyers.”

“How will they ensure the land doesn’t sell again?” Thistle asked.

“We’re re-drafting the contracts to include an amendment stating that the land cannot be further developed, nor can it be sold for a profit.” Avery grinned, glancing from faun to faun. Her shoulders drooped at Bosk and Thistle’s blank expression.

“The land stays ours,” Cricket explained. “There’s a precedent, or something, tied into the property laws governing the camp. Avery, or rather, Payne Properties, can’t develop the land, and they can’t sell it for a profit.”

“But what we can do,” Avery said, “is sell it to you. For a dollar.” Bosk’s wide eyes blinked. His stern mouth fell open, and Cricket grinned. “I can’t promise that every seller comes on board, land contracts are tricky, but the people of Green Bank respect the faun. We’ve already secured twenty-five acres, including the land your dwelling is on, and I’m hoping we can—”

“And the hollow? By Deer Creek?” Bosk asked.

Cricket glanced at Avery. She worked her jaw, eyes narrowed in the way they did when she was thinking hard. “I’m not … I’m not sure? But I can check. As shady as the whole thing was, Lunar Asset Management kept a clean paper trail; we should be able to locate the owners easily enough.”

“You secure the hollow under Little Mountain,” Bosk said, “and the faun will be your allies for as long as we roam this world.”

“Yikes, dad, calm down.” Cricket laid her hand on her father’s arm and smiled up at him. “But, you mean it?”

“The hollow is all that matters.” He nodded and extended a hand for Avery. She took it without hesitation, her long pianist’s fingers dwarfed by the length and breadth of Bosk’s own.

“Then I’ll have my mother’s lawyers start there.” She pumped his arm once, and in the tight nod and gleam in her eyes, Cricket saw a shadow of Nathan Payne. His determination, grit, and charm. But where Nathan was all smooth edges buffed to a shine, Avery’s shirt, tucked into denim cut-offs, was wrinkled and bore faint, muddy stains. Her fox-fur hair was frizzy and wild, and she’d never looked more lovely.

Bosk released her hand and regarded Avery for a long moment before his nut-brown gaze landed on Cricket. One ear twitched, the corner of his mouth curled, and he pulled her into his side, knuckling the top of her head. “I can see why you like this one.”

“Dad.”

“Only, I wonder what it is she sees in you.”

“Dad.” Heat rushed into Cricket’s cheeks, and she pushed against him, attempting to wriggle free. But Bosk kept her hugged in tight, spinning Cricket around and calling for Avery to follow. “Dinner is already in the pot, young lady, and my wife’s acorn stew waits for no faun or human.”

A light haze rose from the forest floor, braiding through the trees and dissipating in the fields where fireflies danced to a soundless tune. Glimmers of warm, yellow lights bobbed and weaved, rising high enough to obscure the line between earth and sky.

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