Page 196 of Shifting Hearts 1
His body wavered, and I knew our conversation had reached its conclusion. I bared my teeth.We’re not done.The tree man’s eyes danced with his brand of odd humor.
“Nice seeing you," I muttered as I leaned down and grabbed my clothes from the hollow of a tree where I stored them last time I was in this part of the forest. Fiddling with the undershirt, then the jacket and jeans, I danced in a twisted pirouette. “Taa-daa.”
I strode toward the edge of the forest, intent on watching the cottage a little longer before I went into town to find an unsatisfying dinner of the cooked variety. Dagan didn’t like me killing in his woods, not unless it was absolutely necessary.
"Haven’t you forgotten something?” His voice halted me.
I glanced back, tapping my face, and shrugged. “Fur’s all gone.”
He cleared his throat, amusement coating his voice. “Shoes, wolf. You always forget.”
Cursing, I stopped and looked down at my feet, still bearing my wolf’s claws. The pads created large, and very inhuman, marks in cold ground.
"Fuck.” I always forgot something. "Faces, shoes… Why can’t humans go barefoot all the time?"
“Who knows.” Dagan’s voice drifted away like the rest of him. Indistinct. Forgotten.
When I looked back, he had already melded into the forest. Leaves rustled above me as he moved seamlessly from place to place, returning to his place as the forest’s heart.
I found my boots and threw them on, not worrying about socks – damned things. Each step I took forced me closer to my human side, the less controlled aspect of my beast. Or not-beast.
As a wolf I chose my actions, sought my prey, hunting her with a sole focus in mind. But in my human form, chaos and need ruled me, with no singular focus to narrow my actions. I tried to calm my wildness into something more relatable on my way to town, barely sparing a glance for the cottage that glowed with warmth and love and family.
All the things it was supposed to be, with Bryn ensconced behind its closed doors. No, my place tonight had to be far, far away from what I craved in both forms, lest she not survive the night.
After all, my wolf was hungry.
THREE
DAGAN
Asingle footfall at the edge of my trees awoke me from my unending slumber. I could have slept within my standing form for a night, or an eternity. Time meant little to me within the stoic boughs of my forest. I let out a sigh that rippled through the leaves from the center all the way to the edges of the forest. There, sunlight warmed my edges. Here in the center where the shadows were darkest, I remained cool.
Another footfall rumbled the ground beneath my roots, jerking me out of my inertia.
I hadn’t expected to seeheruntil after the sun rose to its zenith, letting my conscience sink deep to my roots. My coolest, quietest place. But the arrival of a presence between my trees, the first step beyond the light—that intrusion brought me back to an aching, present state that I resented. Only in sleep could I rid myself of the need to touch her, to bind her to my trees and watch her struggle and make soft sounds that would ease the pain of existing here for so, so long.
Once I’d a woodsman, living alongside the forest’s creatures that overpopulated the grove with their calls and playfulness. Once, I loved, and my trees were fruitful, their shadows few, their branches strong and healthy.
And then I watched the children be taken, one by one by one. The life of one tree for me, though it took centuries of what became their lives. This place was a twisted playground for hidden things. Curses that I unknowingly rent deep in the soil as I held a child in my arms, one who ran and ran and ran, but who never made it out of the shadows.
For a while, I kept their secrets, those who stole the children, until I, too, was as twisted and dark as the evils I harbored.
Then I watched.
And I savored.
All the things that I understood about the world as I retreated from it in disgust.
Because once I fought. Once, I protected.
Until one day it became too much. My axe grew too heavy, laden with the sins of those I cut down in favor of saving the lives of those who walked the paths through the darkwood that were no longer clear to me. My legs grew heavy, rooting into the soil, until I could not walk. Then, I retreated into myself.
The paths disappear. The forest grew dark. No animals lived here. And the children who were brought through my trees were no safer than ever before.
I slept and the years… passed.
A shiver passed over me at the oldest memories. The ripple didn’t make it as far as the edge of the forest, the rustle of leaves limited to this grove. Unfortunately the wolf was right in his pithy, short lived existence.
