interlaced.
It was a
sylvan paradise, emerald in sunshine, and silvery in mist.
Kell was born
in a stone cottage amid giant trees while wood pigeons gathered to
mark the event. Many other creatures congregated as well, but the
pigeons were vocal, their cooing the music he heard as he drew his
first breath. Newborn were a rarity for fey kind, but particularly
for his people. They were both elf and faerie, known as the Forest
Fay, and the marriage of the two kinds back in the fogs of history
had caused much uproar. Accepted today, it was still a truth that
conception remained difficult for the Fay and birth even more
so.
Thus was
Kell’s birth celebrated.
The Fay lived
out their lives under foliage, weaving amid tree trunks ancient and
new. They preferred the dappled light, for they were light-skinned
and suffered burn easily, while their pale eyes saw further in the
shadows.
He too adored
the myriad of beams amid the trees, but was not afraid of the full
sun. Allowed every freedom, all were his teachers, from the elders
to the smallest fox.
The border of
their domain to the south was the river, for there the forest
ended; beyond lay pastures. Many copses dotted the sun-drenched
landscape, but it remained exposed ground for people preferring
mottled glows and familiar boles to hide with.
Until the day
little Erin appeared, Kell had suffered no denial. No one had ever
said no to him. No one had needed to; not only was he a responsible
child, but also there was little to fear in those times.
Humans did
live in the valley, but tended towards the open regions.
Erin’s mother
and father chose to inhabit the cottage near the northern slopes,
where the true forest began, and where the tilled land was more
suited to oats.
Erin’s arrival
entirely changed Kell’s world.
No longer was
he able to roam as freely; until then no one had needed to warn him
away from others, for the nearest farms were far distant. He hated
being restricted.
“If they see
you, you will be hunted,” his father stated, sitting him down that
same night after Erin was lost.
His father had
waited until her mother discovered her asleep in a meadow amid long
grass and wild flowers before returning home to confront his
son.
While his
mother prepared the evening meal, his father had words with him,
revealing in them something unknown, something different, something
unwelcome.
“Always there
have been many races on our world and for many ages everyone lived
together in harmony. It was not always peaceful, but we were allies
when it counted. No race can claim being oldest, for memory tells
us that we have all been here for a long time, even the Fay, who
are of two kinds and therefore came later.”
“Humans, too?”
Kell asked, listening intently.
“Yes, son, all
kinds, from trolls to sprites and all between. You are five years
old, and have not travelled beyond the borders of our woodland
realm yet, but when you are older and stronger we will go over the
mountains and then you will see what I mean.”
It did not
make sense to Kell. If he would see all kinds elsewhere, why were
humans not to see him? Why were they called ‘human’ while he was
‘fey’ and he appeared no different, other than being a boy while
Erin was a girl?
“A thousand
years ago there was war with the humans. It began over fertile land
and became a war of the races. Unfortunately humans had grown in
number more than we had and, therefore, to protect ourselves, we
vanished from view, retreating to the lesser inhabited spaces where
humans feel uncomfortable and thus choose to ignore.”
His mother
joined them at the table, taking his hand into hers. “Kell, there
are more humans now than any other race and, as they grow in
number, we lose more territory. We must remain hidden or they will
take from us what is left.”
He could not
understand, not then, about birth rate and survival needs, nor
could he understand when his father told him humans lived
It was a
sylvan paradise, emerald in sunshine, and silvery in mist.
Kell was born
in a stone cottage amid giant trees while wood pigeons gathered to
mark the event. Many other creatures congregated as well, but the
pigeons were vocal, their cooing the music he heard as he drew his
first breath. Newborn were a rarity for fey kind, but particularly
for his people. They were both elf and faerie, known as the Forest
Fay, and the marriage of the two kinds back in the fogs of history
had caused much uproar. Accepted today, it was still a truth that
conception remained difficult for the Fay and birth even more
so.
Thus was
Kell’s birth celebrated.
The Fay lived
out their lives under foliage, weaving amid tree trunks ancient and
new. They preferred the dappled light, for they were light-skinned
and suffered burn easily, while their pale eyes saw further in the
shadows.
He too adored
the myriad of beams amid the trees, but was not afraid of the full
sun. Allowed every freedom, all were his teachers, from the elders
to the smallest fox.
The border of
their domain to the south was the river, for there the forest
ended; beyond lay pastures. Many copses dotted the sun-drenched
landscape, but it remained exposed ground for people preferring
mottled glows and familiar boles to hide with.
Until the day
little Erin appeared, Kell had suffered no denial. No one had ever
said no to him. No one had needed to; not only was he a responsible
child, but also there was little to fear in those times.
Humans did
live in the valley, but tended towards the open regions.
Erin’s mother
and father chose to inhabit the cottage near the northern slopes,
where the true forest began, and where the tilled land was more
suited to oats.
Erin’s arrival
entirely changed Kell’s world.
No longer was
he able to roam as freely; until then no one had needed to warn him
away from others, for the nearest farms were far distant. He hated
being restricted.
“If they see
you, you will be hunted,” his father stated, sitting him down that
same night after Erin was lost.
His father had
waited until her mother discovered her asleep in a meadow amid long
grass and wild flowers before returning home to confront his
son.
While his
mother prepared the evening meal, his father had words with him,
revealing in them something unknown, something different, something
unwelcome.
“Always there
have been many races on our world and for many ages everyone lived
together in harmony. It was not always peaceful, but we were allies
when it counted. No race can claim being oldest, for memory tells
us that we have all been here for a long time, even the Fay, who
are of two kinds and therefore came later.”
“Humans, too?”
Kell asked, listening intently.
“Yes, son, all
kinds, from trolls to sprites and all between. You are five years
old, and have not travelled beyond the borders of our woodland
realm yet, but when you are older and stronger we will go over the
mountains and then you will see what I mean.”
It did not
make sense to Kell. If he would see all kinds elsewhere, why were
humans not to see him? Why were they called ‘human’ while he was
‘fey’ and he appeared no different, other than being a boy while
Erin was a girl?
“A thousand
years ago there was war with the humans. It began over fertile land
and became a war of the races. Unfortunately humans had grown in
number more than we had and, therefore, to protect ourselves, we
vanished from view, retreating to the lesser inhabited spaces where
humans feel uncomfortable and thus choose to ignore.”
His mother
joined them at the table, taking his hand into hers. “Kell, there
are more humans now than any other race and, as they grow in
number, we lose more territory. We must remain hidden or they will
take from us what is left.”
He could not
understand, not then, about birth rate and survival needs, nor
could he understand when his father told him humans lived
Similar Books
