Page 5 of Faun Over Me

Cricket

A curling wisp of steam rose from the teacup, tickling Cricket’s nose with dandelion and lemon—her cousin’s favorite blend. She hunkered down in her blanket, gritting flat teeth as her cousin’s wife tugged on a bandage, wrapping it tightly around her hoof.

“Ow,” she said. It didn’t hurt, but aside from the intermittent chirps from a walkie-talkie on the table, the kitchen was too damned quiet. Her cousin’s wife had barely spoken a word to her, at least not directly. She’d had a full-on conversation with a tall, bird-like woman who introduced herself as Nurse Almaden and helped Cricket into a bathtub, gently scrubbing her clean before prodding her ankle and hoof. For the nurse, her cousin’s wife had loads to say, most of it concerning care for Cricket’s hoof and not to tell anyone she was here.

But for Cricket herself? Only terse commands like, “get dressed,” and “drink this,” and “stop moving.”

So she said, “Ow,” trying to get something other than cold anger out of Mac.

“Sorry.” Mac tugged on the bandage and pressed the edge down with her thumb. “She said to wrap it tightly.”

“Any tighter, and you’ll cut off blood flow,” Cricket grumbled.

Mac glanced at her, and her features relaxed. She gently lowered Cricket’s hoof to a footstool. “Sorry, Crick. I just—you scared the hell out of me. What are you doing here?”

“I’m looking for my cousin,” she said, raising the teacup and inhaling the herbal scent. A hint of peach teased beneath the lemon and dandelion, adding a subtle sweetness. She took a sip, letting her eyes drift closed as warmth rushed down her throat. Oak and ivy, she was tired. “Tried to get here last night, but that storm blew in, and I had to take the ridgelines to—”

“What was so important that you ran the ridgelines in a storm?” Mac shot up straight in her chair.

“I need to talk to my cousin.” Cricket set the teacup down a little harder than necessary, sloshing hot liquid onto the table. “Someone keeps buying up the land in Green Bank and forcing us out of our dens, but no one will listen to me when I suggest moving. They’re happy to get shoved into less and less space until we’re forced out altogether, and yesterday, I saw the assessor out there marking trees.”

“Trees.”

“Yes, trees. They only do that when the land has been sold, which means we have to move again, but there's nowhere else to go. And the noise!” She rose to her feet, wincing as the weight came down on her injured hoof—a small sprain in her ankle, the bird nurse had said, and smaller injuries along with a crack in the hoof wall. Gripping the chair back, she glared at Mac. “They start up before dawn and work into the night. We can’t even leave to forage or patrol the border without risking getting run down by their trucks, and they’re not even from here. They’re all outsiders thinking they can move to our mountains and–”

“Cricket.”

She sighed, glaring at the table. “I thought if I brought my cousin back, maybe they could talk to the family. You know how they are; they don’t listen to anything I say. My parents still think I’m the little doe that fell through with them fifteen years ago. I thought, with my cousin, we could prove it’s safe outside of Green Bank and, I don’t know, get everyone to move away.”

“Ramble’s not here,” Mac said, naming Cricket’s cousin as her attention drifted to the window. “They went down to Elkins yesterday morning for supplies. No idea when they’ll be able to get back; the roads are closed from that storm.”

“They go into town?” Her ears pricked forward in surprise.

“Of course, they go into town; we’ve lived here for a decade.”

“How long did it take for people to ... to ...”

“Get used to them?” Mac finished. A soft smile overtook her face, and she patted the table, urging Cricket to sit back down. “A summer.”

She eased herself into the chair, blinking her eyes at an unfamiliar burn. “And no one tries to hurt them?”

“Why would they?” Mac asked.

“Because we’re different,” she mumbled. And they were. Others had dropped through to this earth at the same time as Cricket’s family: wolven and naga, thunderbirds and gnomes. A hundred different creatures, all of them integrating with the humans and finding a place for themselves while, for whatever reason, the faun had kept to the woods, cloistering around Green Bank and befriending the locals—people who had clung to the Monongahela Hills since settling there centuries prior, or the kinds of people who sought the peace of the radio-free zone and an escape from the noise of modern living.

Mac chuckled and shook her head. “You came here asking for help to prove it’s safe. How can we help if you don’t even think it’s safe?”

“It’s not my fault I’ve been stuck in Green Bank!” she protested. “And you’ve met the family; they won’t move.”

“Always wondered why,” Mac said. “Every time we asked, Ramble’s dad said they weren’t old enough to know.”

“My father says the same thing.” Cricket released the chairback and knocked it with a fist. “But I can’t just wander off and leave them there. The assessor is already out marking the trees, which means it’s only a matter of weeks, maybe days, before they start clearing the woods. I need everyone to be somewhere safe, and Ramble’s letters talk about how safe it is here.” She waved her arm toward the gingham-curtained window and the camp beyond. “I just need them to come back and talk to our parents. ”

Mac stood and crossed the kitchen, grabbing a towel to clean the spilled tea. “Well, I’m glad my wife thinks our home is safe.”

Cricket pointed at her. “That’s sarcasm. I know what sarcasm is.”

“Clearly,” Mac replied. She tossed the towel on the counter and leaned against the edge, arms crossed. “It’s not just Elkwater, you know. A lot has changed since your family got here. Maybe it is time you wandered out of the Monongahela.”

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