Page 12 of Fated Guardian

It gives me a whole new perspective on the world.

Today, Coral is wearing overalls, but they’re the color of the very first blush of the sunrise. They’re gauzy and ethereal, and they swoop around her body, tenderly caressing what I think is a really nice ass. She’s wearing a tank top that could just be white cotton, but when I get close, it looks thinner and softer. She must notice, because at some point, she pauses.

“It’s linen. Woven from flax plants,” she explains, tugging at the white edge of the fabric.

I flush and look away. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to be just… really weird, staring at you and all that.”

“It’s totally fine. All of my clothes are made from plants, or from insects.” She smiles. “I can’t really tolerate synthetic fabrics. They make me break out in hives, and I can’t use my magic if I’m wrapped up in polyester.”

I blink. “Insects?”

“Spiders often donate their silk to me. It’s very kind of them, but they appreciate when I help them find homes in the plants.”

“Spiders donate silk to you,” I repeat.

Coral nods, looking around at the ground like she’s searching for something. “Some are better than others, of course. I’ll accept the orb weaver webs to make a dress with, but a black widow just simply doesn’t spin as well, bless her heart.”

“Bless the black widow’s heart,” I echo again.

Coral looks up at me. She bites her lip, and I see a small green blush on her fingertips.

Shit. She thinks I’m making fun of her.

“I’m not trying to be mean. I’m just saying, there are very few beings out in the world that are going to say, ‘bless her’ about a black widow spider.”

“Why not? Even though her bite is toxic to humans, she’s not out here trying to hunt anything other than flies. If you were a fly, I’d expect you to have beef with a black widow. But a human? Or a shifter who would recover from a spider bite without the antidote?” Coral waves her hand. “Get real. You’re the one who holds all the power, and she’s just a spider.”

“One who doesn’t make a very good web,” I say with a little smile.

Coral sighs. “It’s very good at catching flies. Not as good to weave into a dress.”

“I’ll keep that in mind if I ever need a superior fly-catcher.”

“Yes! That’s precisely when you’d want to contact a black widow!”

I was kidding. She clearly is not.

I find that I like this about her. She could seem childlike, but she isn’t childlike in the slightest. The way she talks about the world is just… different. Not bad. But different.

It forces me to see the space around us in a totally new way. And I definitely like what I see. Including the faerie woman in front of me.

When we get to the northernmost point in the territory, Coral stops. It’s like she knows instinctively, where the edge of the boundary is. She looks around, murmuring.

“Do you need something?”

“I’m looking for aspen… Ah. There you are.”

The stand of aspen trees seems to shake in response.

She glances back at me, a tiny, delicate smile playing on her lips.

“I might be a minute. Please don’t disturb me,” Coral murmurs. Then she plops down, shuts her eyes, and digs her fingers into the soil.

For a minute, all I can hear are the sounds that are normal to hear in the woods. Birds, the creaking of trees, the echoes of wind through the pines.

Then, I’m aware of something else entirely. It reminds me of the sound of lumber being cut down, but there’s no crack, and no thud of the tree falling onto the floor of the forest. There’s just that creaking, rustling sound of something that should not be moved but is definitely moving anyway.

Aspen trees always shake. It’s kind of their thing. They are literally called ‘quaking aspens’ if you go to buy them at the hardware store. But this is more than just the wind fluttering through the leaves. They’re… moving.

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