Page 15 of Faun Over Me

“No, it’s my fault,” Avery whispered and transformed before her very eyes. She sat up straight, rolling those soft shoulders back and raising her chin. In a blink, her eyes were dry, if still red. She gave a curt nod and plucked her napkin from the tray as Cricket shoved a forkful of food into her mouth, chewing in silence until Avery asked with all the poise of a hostess, “What brings you to Elkwater Music Camp?”

Cricket, hunched over her meal with both elbows on the table, looked up from her vegan bowl. She finished chewing, swallowed, and blew a curl out of her eyes. “Came for help.”

Avery’s cold expression eased, and she leaned slightly forward. “Help?”

“Someone keeps buying up the land where we live—faun, by the way.”

She blinked.

“Kind of related to satyr, but also, like, deer?” Did Cricket imagine it, or had Avery’s shoulders relaxed as well? “So, add that to your form.”

“They want to push you out?”

It was Cricket’s turn to blink, taken aback by her sudden interest and the hint of concern in her voice.

“I-I don’t know,” she admitted. “That’s what it feels like. Every time we settle in a new part of the woods, the land gets bought, and we get pushed out. Used to be we could spread out, but now the dens are getting closer and closer.”

“Why don’t you move?”

Cricket huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “I wish it were that easy.” She poked the food in her bowl. Gods, why was she even telling Avery all of this? She didn’t even know what faun were and was clearly out of her depth in dealing with inhumans. But there was something about how she leaned forward, completely engaged in Cricket’s story in a way no one in her family had been for years.

She knew why; it wasn’t hard to figure out. They were tired of her pestering the family to move. Tired of her wild claims and cries of evil real estate developers. Tired of her criticisms. When she was younger, her mother and father would humor her, nodding and smiling and placating her with repetitions of “one day,” and “wouldn’t that be nice,” and “you will understand why we stay when you are older.”

When her cousin married, Cricket was hopeful they would see how integration was possible beyond Green Bank. See how the faun could have more than their ever-shrinking patch of woods, but the elder faun, like her father, Bosk, were immovable, and Cricket was desperate.

“It’s complicated,” she said, those two words failing to sum up the last decade of her life. “Anyway, I came here to find my cousin; they’ve lived at the camp full-time for the last eight years.”

“There’s no one here like you.”

The words were spoken quietly, almost reverently. Cricket snapped her gaze to Avery, who was prodding the food on her plate, cheeks once again flushing the lovely pink of a mountain laurel in late spring.

“I … thanks?”

“I mean, I’ve never seen another, um, faun. We have naga, wolven, gnomes, and all sorts of campers in the Sasquatch family, a few lizard people. There’s a satyr around here somewhere; he’s in the woodwinds, but I haven’t seen another faun.”

“They’re here,” Cricket stated. “Just got stuck out of town with the road closures.”

“Oh, those should be cleared in the next day or so.” Avery twirled her fork in the air. “Still, I’ve never seen another faun in the camp.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m the Assistant Director.” She raised an eyebrow, blue eyes intent on Cricket. “It’s my job.”

“No,” she shook her head. A half smile quirked her mouth, and, to her surprise. Avery’s delightful blush returned. “How do you know the roads are re-opening?”

“My dad has a meeting in Green Bank, over the ridge. Some business deal. He wouldn’t make the drive from Harrisburg if he thought he couldn’t get to the real estate his client wants him to inspect.”

Cricket stiffened at the name of her small town. Her ears pressed flat against the side of her head as a new suspicion about Avery, or rather, her family, arose. “What does your dad do?”

“He’s a lobbyist.” She set her fork down at a perfect ninety-degree angle, then straightened her already straight tray. “His firm has worked with US Petrol forever. They’ve been pushing for a new pipeline.” Avery folded her napkin into a perfect rectangle and ran a finger along her knife and spoon, ensuring they were parallel to her plate. Cricket wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, watching the performance with interest. “Before I came up here, my dad was pretty deep into the project; they’re purchasing the land on behalf of US Petrol using a third-party firm in Atlanta.”

“Atlanta?” Cricket’s ears perked up, and Avery’s gaze lifted, dancing from one side of Cricket’s face to the other. “Like, in Georgia?”

“Where else?”

At Cricket’s lack of response, Avery again lowered her head, hands disappearing under the table. She exhaled, shoulders dropping, and Cricket’s ears pricked forward at the sound of low mumbling. She ducked to the side and caught sight of Avery’s lips moving. It was hypnotic how the plush pads formed each silent word. Her gaze drifted over Avery’s face, lingering on her eyelashes, long and curled in a delicate arc so much darker than her hair and skin, the contrast beautiful and alluring.

That thought straightened her back. Unsure of what to do, she grabbed her glass and swallowed the last of her water before asking, “What are you doing?”

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