King of the Woods, or Trivial Pursuit

Part 6 - Brownie

They took lichen and fungi from the shady grove and found excuses to brush against each other as they walked. When they crossed a small creek, the woman splashed Ray with water. When her back was turned, he dropped mushroom caps down her dress. They spoke nothing of the world beyond, only what they experienced at that moment. He learned that she loved the feeling of the sun on her skin more than anything, and that the rustle of leaves sounded like the voices of her loved ones. She learned that he treasured stillness and thought long-petaled flowers were very elegant.

"Like your fingers," Ray added without thinking. He felt terrible for drawing attention to her most unusual feature, and he feared that he had ruined everything, but she was not offended. If anything, she seemed pleased. Still, he decided to change the subject by pointing to plants, naming them in Latin, and saying whatever triviality came to mind: unique structures in flowers and leaves, the plant's role in the local ecosystem, or their country of origin. She was kind about it. After six plants, he realized that he had taught her nothing that she did not already know.

They stepped into a bright clearing. There were no trees to obscure the sun hanging overhead, just a few prickly shrubs.

"What time is it?" Ray asked.

"Looks like a little after noon," she said. It did.

"That can't be."

"If you argue with the sun, you'll lose every time."

A patch of brambles lay before them. She did not seem to notice. 

"Be careful!" Ray said.

"Of what?" She stepped through the brambles. Her bare feet were unharmed. For that matter, so were the brambles.

"How are your feet not killing you?"

"How are your feet not suffocating in those... things?"

"What, shoes?"

Dread Girl wriggled her toes. "I enjoy feeling the soil beneath me."

"You like feeling brambles and pine cones and sharp rocks, too?"

"We have an arrangement. Now, would you like to help me find this mushroom, or do you want to keep checking out my legs?"

"Yes?"

She stuck out her tongue. "It's called Golden Bough."

"I don't know that one."

"It grows only in dark places. This is a dark place."

"It is?" Ray took out his sketchpad and half a colored pencil. "Maybe you'd better tell me what Golden Bough looks like."

"You are an artist?" she asked.

"Not really. I just draw trees and insects." He flipped a few pages in the sketchpad to show her. 

When he stopped, she grabbed it from him and flipped through the rest. "Where are the others?"

"What others?"

"White fringetree."

"How did you know I drew white fringetree?"

"You said it was your favorite."

"You said it wasn't yours," Ray said, feeling rather like a television detective.

Her eyes flickered sideways. "True. But if it's your favorite, those drawings are probably your best. So I would like to see them."

"I left them back at work."

She pressed the sketchpad back into his hands. "Bring them next time."

"Next time?" Ray resisted the urge to spike his sketchpad and do a victory dance.