Page 1 of The Red Woman and the White Bear

The cry was soft and distant, scarcely louder than the crunch of dry brush beneath her boots. Though it was difficult to see amidst the unchanging pines, evergreen no matter the season, the bitter-edged chill that swept through on the breeze was telling enough: fall had come hard and fast, with very little warning. Aisling stilled, straining to hear over the ambient sounds of the forest. It came again, still quiet, but closer this time. A few seconds later, the cry was followed by a trumpet blast. Its low, keening trill drew a cold sweat to bead across the back of her neck.A warning.

To anyone else on the island, it would have sounded similar enough to the ferry’s foghorn to write off. Aisling knew better, though. She recognized this sound, if only from her mother’s stories. But according to those same stories, it wasn’t yet hunting season.Either way, she didn’t think she had wandered so far off the forest path as to cross into the borderlands.

Holding a bundle of firewood tight against her chest, she froze, hoping that the next sound would be muted as it moved in another direction. As she waited and listened, her mind drifted back to her mother’s accounts of the creatures and beings she might encounter passing through the woods. Creatures both kind and cruel, most falling somewhere in between. Some that would lead a lost hiker home should they stray too far off the map, and some that would lure them even deeper into the forest. It was those beings of dubious morality that she feared now, far from her group and without even a pocketknife to defend herself.

Another blast of the horn, flat and haunting, set her teeth on edge. The knowledge of what it signaled, even more so. Up ahead, Briar had stopped, too. The pale fur on the dog’s hackles rose slowly. A growl was building somewhere low in his chest.

“Briar, close,” Aisling commanded. The large Pyrenees could almost certainly hear the anxiety in her voice; he only needed to be told once. He crept backward to his place by her side, eyes focused ahead into the deep wood. The undergrowth there was dense. It needed to be cleared and burned before winter.

Aisling shuffled to crouch in the shadow of a tall pine tree and pressed herself against its bark while she listened, eyes squeezed shut, trying to get a sense of what direction the sounds were echoing from. Whether the chase was coming towards her, or away. The woods fell still, so silent that both Aisling and Briar’s breathing seemedimpossibly loud.

That stillness was broken by something tumbling raucously through the underbrush, rapidly moving closer and closer. It sounded low to the ground—a chipmunk, maybe.No, bigger than that.A rabbit?But it was no rabbit. A tiny figure raced into view, emerging from a swaying bed of sword ferns. It was a woman; or, at least, something that resembled a woman. Her features were upturned, all delicate lines and sharp angles as if pinched from clay. Despite the way she’d crashed into the clearing, there was a certain lightness to her. A too-strong breeze could have swept her away.

Briar rose out of his defensive posture, more curious now than afraid. Aisling, too, was captivated by the being’s appearance. She moved with frenetic energy, tripping on twigs and vaulting over stones that were nearly half her size. Her stride was both graceful and erratic as she navigated the forest terrain with a sense of urgency.

The subtle rustling of Briar’s fur as he shifted drew the being’s attention, and she froze at once. When their eyes locked, Aisling was gripped by a falling sensation in her stomach as though her foot had missed a step. Something shook loose deep in her mind—something she couldn’t quite place, but that felt all too familiar.

Another long blast from the horn reverberated through the air. This tiny being was the target of a Fae hunt, and the riders were rapidly closing the distance between them. How many of them, Aisling hadn’t a clue, but they’d without a doubt be armed. Aisling’s heart raced with indecision. Something instinctual urged her to stay hidden and keep her distance from the pursuit. After all, it wasn’t her problem, and getting involved could mean putting herself and Briar at the tip of an arrow or sword or whatever other weaponsthe hunters carried.Do not involve yourself uninvited with matters of the Fae,her mother had warned more than once. The logical part of Aisling’s mind screamed for self-preservation.

But as she studied the figure’s face, terror and desperation etched into her delicate features, a surge of empathy washed over Aisling. She wrestled with her conscience, torn between the fear of the unknown and the pull of compassion. Her mind parsed swiftly through the possibilities until, amidst the chaos of her thoughts, a resolute determination welled up within her.

She couldn’t leave the being to this fate.

Of the three, Aisling was the first to move. She shrugged her backpack from her shoulders and pulled it open. The being’s large black eyes darted back and forth between Aisling and the bag, once. Twice. A flicker of hope glimmered in them. Then she made her decision, scrambling forward and diving into the pack. Once she’d braced herself inside, it was Aisling’s turn to run.

“Let’s go, Briar!” She barked the order and spun on her heel to sprint back toward the trail she’d left an hour before. Adrenaline flooded through her veins and urged her further, faster. Her movements were far less graceful than the tiny female’s had been, but her long legs could cover five times the ground in one stride. Ducking under branches and hurtling over rotting logs, her fear turned into something closer to giddy defiance.

Gradually, the sound of the horn faded into the distance and the sounds of the forest began to filter back in. Still, Aisling ran in a zig-zag pattern until she reached the trail and jogged anotherhundred meters for good measure before she stooped to set the bag on the ground.

Briar kept a respectful distance and eased himself into a submissive posture. His tail wagged lazily through the dirt after their run, which must have seemed like a great game. The being clamored out on shaky legs. Up close, her size seemed even more impossible. She was just as long as Aisling’s forearm and her garments were sewn from leaves with delicate stitchwork only such little hands could manage.

Unsure whether such a creature could even understand her, Aisling spoke breathlessly: “You should be safe now.”

She cocked her head to one side, then the other, globe-like black eyes studying Aisling and Briar with equal parts terror and fascination. They regarded each other for a beat longer before the being turned and darted off into the darkening woods on the opposite side of the trail.

“Aisling!” Her friends called out to her from the trailhead, and she rose to her feet and dusted herself off. Her hands trembled; the adrenaline was overpowering and would take hours yet to wane. The beam of a flashlight cut through the hazy dusk and found her face. Squinting against the glare, she reached up to shield her eyes.

“I was just on my way back,” she called out in response. She stole one last glance back—first in the direction the being had run, then to where they’d just emerged from the trees, half-expecting to see the hunters lurking there in the shadows. She let out a sharp breath of relief when she found either side of the trailto be empty.

Briar rose to his feet and sniffed the spot where the being had stood moments before. Aisling reached out and nudged him away halfheartedly—his curiosity was one of her favorite things about him. Four years prior, Aisling had been left brokenhearted when the man she was sure she’d marry left her without so much as a goodbye. The apartment she moved into was small and lonely, and on a whim she’d stopped at a pet store after work to pick up a fish. A betta, she thought, like the blue one she had for a summer when she was young. She’d wanted something to take care of other than herself.

But when she met Briar’s warm brown eyes, the decision to take him home had already been made for her. He was barely three years old then, but already weighed 130 pounds and was by far the largest dog at the adoption event. Ignoring the impracticality of bringing the colossal Pyrenees into her city apartment, Aisling had lied on the paperwork and written her old home address on Brook Isle as her permanent residence. They’d been inseparable since.

“Where’s the firewood?” It was Lida rounding the corner ahead, with Jackson holding the light.

“It was all too damp,” Aisling lied. “We’ll have to make do with what we brought.”

Jackson swore. “We’ve burned through a lot of it already.”

She shrugged. “Send Seb back to town for more. He’s the one that insisted two bundles would be enough.”

Aisling sunk her hands deep into her pockets to hide the tremors and marched up the trail ahead of Lida before her friend could link their arms. On the walk back to camp, her thoughts remained consumed by the encounter with the small being and the odd senseof familiarity it had sparked in the back of her mind. Just how closely it mirrored elements of her mother’s stories about the faeries she’d encountered when Aisling was a child.

Lida increased her pace to catch up and glanced at Aisling with concern. “Are you alright?”

Aisling forced a smile and attempted to push aside the lingering unease. “I’m fine,” she replied, her voice betraying a hint of tension. “Just got startled by something up the trail. And I’m annoyed about our firewood situation.”

Lida’s brow furrowed a bit, sensing that there was more to the story, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she changed the topic to the group’s dinner plans—Seb had started grilling burgers. Aisling appreciated the distraction.

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