Wylde Magic | Book 3

Thirty Eight: Sunshine

Exhaustion.

Hunger. Pain. Sorrow. 

The Autumn court was a slow train of fae creatures, cold and scared in the unclaimed Wyldes. While we had been in the Autumn lands the seasons outside of it slipped into the chill of late fall, and the unclaimed Wyldes were no exception. 

We didn't risk many fires, we didn't stop to hunt. We just marched on.

Until finally, after so much walking, we reached the first sign of Summer.

The dry leaves crunched under my boots as I walked. Watching where I stepped so as not to trip over a hidden rock or tree root as I went. The morning fog wasn't helping.

Spaulder to my left, Schula to his left, and Puko on my shoulder, we walked. For a long time, we walked.

A large rumble sounded from next to my ear, and I jumped.

'Spaulder?' I asked.

Schula snorted a laugh. 'Are you hungry? We can stop soon. I think we're close.'

'I am fine,' Spaulder insisted indignantly. 'It is not for younglings to pester their elders.'

I couldn't stop myself from laughing. There was absolutely no bite in his words, only a grumbling old dragon tossing empty threats to his triquetram.

Our merriment was cut short as a horn was sounded in the distance. High and bellowing, it rang through the trees ahead that blocked our vision for much of a distance and caused a stir of mumbling in the Autumn court.

"That is the Summer court," Aithne said, stepping forward.

We turned to face her, Puko flapping off of my shoulder to land on Spaulder's horns as we all turned around. 

"What does it mean?" Schula asked.

Aithne looked tired as she turned back to her unit of Summer warriors. Her red patterned skin and once-tight golden bun were now both dirty and disheveled. 

"Hayat, your horn," Aithne held her open hand toward the group. Her companion from the outpost, the water sprite with the halberd, approached her and handed her a small carved horn. As he did it, he kept his serious eyes trained on Spaulder. Fair enough, none of the Summer court had warmed to the idea of the dragon among us. Hells, even some of the Autumn fae weren't convinced, though they had little other choice but to follow us.

"Thank you, Hayat," Aithne murmured before turning back to Schula. "They want a return call that we are friendly. If I don't answer, they will assume we are in danger."

Spaulder rumbled, getting in closer. His dark scales brushed past me. His golden eyes burned as he bent down to better see Aithne. His head was so massive compared to any of us. His closeness to my heart made me forget how fierce he must be to anyone else, and I watched as many of the fae behind us, Summer and Autumn alike, baked away in fear. But Aithne stood still as he drew near. He huffed a breath of air through his nose, ruffling Aithne's hair and clothing. 

No tricks, fae,' Spaulder warned. 

Aithne nodded, lifting the horn to her lips and raising it to the sky.

Her horn sounded, light and melodious as it echoed through the trees of the unclaimed Wyldes. The thin mist still clinging to the trees adding an eerie feeling to the situation.

Schula stepped over to hold my hand as we both listened. The traces of Aithne's reply fading away as they stretched toward the Summer lands.

The Summer lands.