A Kelpie of Rowan

Chapter 1

Rowan pops her head into the kitchen, her red hair swinging in the breeze from the open window. "Mum, can I go foraging?"

Her mother turns from her cooking to give Rowan a warm smile. Her slightly plump face is crinkled with a smile and a few strands of her chestnut hair have escaped from her bun.

"Of course! Could you keep an eye out for some chanterelles?"

Rowan nods, beaming. "I can do that. Do you need anything else?"

"Just whatever you can find, unless you're doing a bit of hunting."

Rowan shakes her head. "Not today, just looking for some greens."

"Be back before dark or the faeries will get you!"

Rowan giggles and nods before ducking out of the room. She stops in her room for a moment to grab her supplies. Her dark green coat, a small bag of sea salt that she slips in one pocket, and several old nails that she slips in the other. She slips a blood-red bracelet onto her wrist. Rowan sits down on her bed and removes a sock, turning it inside out before she puts it on again. She slides her worn shoes onto her feet and darts out the door again, stopping by her desk to grab some hollowed out acorns and a small bag of sugar. At the door, she slips a wicker basket into the crook of one arm. It opens with a faint click and moves to step outside. Her feet stop in surprise when she sees someone sitting on a log against the mountain ash tree in the center of the garden.

"Gran!"

Rowan's grandmother Aisling chuckles. "What is it, child? It isn't that surprising to see me outside."

Rowan flushes, her cheeks turning almost as bright as her hair. She steps over to her grandmother and her namesake tree. At her grandmother's feet, she sees a small bowl, filled with red berries.

"Are you gathering some rowan berries?"

"Yes. I was going to make another batch of rowan berry jelly when Arwen finishes in the kitchen, our old batch is starting to run a bit low."

Rowan's mother pops her head out the window. "That's because you drown your food in it, Mother!" She glances at Rowan and notices her bulging pockets. She frowns. "Sweetheart, your pockets are full of acorns and salt, aren't they?"

"Yes, but what's wrong with that?"

"The Fae aren't real. They're just a superstition."

From beside rowan, Aisling scowls. "That isn't true, Arwen. The faeries are as real as you or I. You know it, you just don't wish to believe it's so."

"Mother . . ."

"Arwen . . ."

Rowan shifts nervously from beside her grandmother, distracting herself by stripping a low hanging branch of its fruit. The berries pour into the bowl and she looks up again to see her mother sigh.

"Very well. Rowan, be careful. Mother, come inside with those. I think you've gathered enough for a batch of jelly."

Aisling grins at Rowan as she gets to her feet, the log shifting in the dirt when she pushes off of it. She bends down to pick up the bowl, the green of it contrasting with the brightness of the berries.

"Go along now, Rowanberry. Don't step into a faerie ring."

"I won't, Gran."

Rowan leaves her grandmother to walk the few meters to the house alone, unlatching the wooden gate to slip out into the woods surrounding their home. At first, the trees are sparse, too close to the village. She keeps going deeper, looking closely around her for anything to forage. Here and there she finds some acorns scattered across the ground and she scoops up a few handfuls of them to tuck into her basket. She stops when the woods grow dense enough to be true woodland, slipping her hollow acorns out of her pocket.

She fills them carefully from her bag of herbed sugar. She slips one acorn beneath a bush, another in the hollow of a tree. Once all of the acorns are scattered throughout the woods, Rowan turns her attention to foraging. She finds a clump of wood sorrel and she gathers a handful or two of it. Wood sorrel is always a treat, it makes for a good addition to salad. She finds a large clump of chanterelles against a tree and she strips them off. The next tree has some as well.

That niggles at her memory, you don't normally find chanterelles on trees this close together. She takes them off the tree anyways before moving to the next. Thankfully, there aren't any on this tree. It wouldn't be right if there were, it could mean she was being led into a faerie trap. Perhaps a ring, but those aren't usually found on trees. On the other side of the tree is a clearing, and it only takes Rowan one glance to know that it contains a faerie ring. She can see blurred shapes within it. It must be occupied.

Rowan doesn't know why she can see this, see the fae, even if their features are blurred enough that she can't quite make them out completely. Her mother can't see them, not more than a wisp of a shadow that passes in a moment. Rowan's grandmother can see them though, enough that she can make out the shapes, if not the features. Perhaps that's why Rowan and Aisling believe while her mother doesn't. Rowan backs away from the ring as another blur of color rushes past her. She slides her free hand into her pocket to grip the bag of salt. Please let her protection work, please. She steps back again, right onto a stick. It snaps audibly and the faeries still. They know she's there.
________________________________________________________________________________
A Kelpie of Rowan has begun! What do you think the faeries are going to do to Rowan? Why can Rowan see the faeries? What do you think of Rowan's family so far? What about all of Rowan's protection, is it too much? Tell me your thoughts!

Happy reading and I'll see you next chapter!

~Goddess of Fate, signing out.