Original Draft: A Strange Boy Appears in the Woods

Silver didn't fall asleep right away. She stared up at the sky beneath her satin comforter, mostly dry but smelling faintly of mildew. She couldn't believe that barely a day ago she was sleeping sound and warm in bed, with nothing but courtly worries on her mind. And now...

Half past midnight, Silver realized she was not alone. The hair rose on the back of her neck and she shifted, staring into the dark.

"Light," she whispered into her palms and a faint flow emanated from her hands.

A face appeared in the shadows and she gasped. Not 10 feet away, crouched at the edge of the forest, was a boy.

The boy was maybe 16 or 17. His hazel eyes danced with mirth. Blue paint was scrolled in intricate designs across his arms and chest, and shading his brow. The strangest thing about his appearance, though, were the small antlers sprouting from his forehead. When he shifted, Silver could see something else—a small, pale crescent curved upwards between his brows.

“Who are you?” Silver breathed, not daring to raise her voice. His smile only widened.

“I am he, and we,” he whispered back. Silently, he raised a finger to his lips and grinned. And then he was gone, disappearing back into the forest.

Silver scrambled out from under her comforter and into the trees. The light in her palms flickered and disappeared as she moved aside branches and leaves. Moonlight bled through the trees, barely lighting her path. She thought she saw the figure of a slender boy just ahead, just out of reach.

"Hey!" she cried. "Stop! Who are you?"

But he didn't stop. Silver cursed in frustration. She knew she didn't dream him, and she knew it was probably crazy to be rushing desperately and barefoot through the trees after a grimy imp.

A twig snapped to her right and Silver turned, changing direction. Abruptly, she collided with another body.

"Whoa, slow down!" Sunny's voice sounded tired and close in the dense trees.

Silver nearly fell, but Sunny righted her again.

"Come on," she said calmly. "Let's head back to camp."

They didn't talk about the boy when they returned, and Silver started to wonder if maybe she had dreamt it all up afterall. Sunny cleaned a nasty scrape on her arm, and sent her to bed with a stern "don't disappear again."

Silver fell asleep right away, and the next morning she woke with only a vague memory of having run through the woods in the moonlight.

Published Draft: Silver meets Goodwyn after a village fire.

Silver brushed ash from Falada’s mane and whispered her thanks before unclasping her medicine bag from his saddle.

“You did well, boy.”

A flash of movement caught her attention and she froze, the strap halfway on her shoulder. Falada stood very still, ears raised in vigilant curiosity.

“Hello?” she called, squinting into the darkness to try and discern who was hiding amongst the nervous beasts. “Who’s there? Please show yourself, you’re frightening the horses.” She hoped her voice did not betray her own fear. It wasn’t Sunny; surely she would announce her presence rather than stalking in the shadows. A villager then, checking on the horses. But why the silence?

She gripped Falada’s reins, ready to climb onto the saddle at the first sign of true danger. Waves of light shimmered around the edges of her vision and she cursed inwardly. The last thing she needed was to be caught unaware by an assailant while her sight was compromised. Blinding pain seared through her head and throbbed around her eyes. Silver bit her tongue against the nauseating ache and forced herself to breathe.

Hues of green and turquoise swirled in the dark…and began to take shape. Awestruck, Silver watched as the glittering lights aligned with the trees, the grass, even the horses.

It wasn’t quite like seeing in daylight. The shapes lacked definition, but they neatly delineated everything around her. Her own hands glowed faintly white—aside from the delicate ring, a prick of cherry red against her finger.

“Are you okay?”

Silver’s attention snapped away from her hands to the two-legged figure leaning against a tree not ten paces away. By posture and voice, she guessed the stranger was a young man—a foreigner—but she could glean nothing else. His light was an ever-shifting flicker of amber and sage, constantly changing. As he moved quietly away from the tree and advanced toward her, Silver fought the instinct to bolt, to haul herself onto Falada and rejoin the rest of the group. But though her nausea had lessened, she wasn’t confident she could ride without falling from dizziness.

“I-I’m fine.” Her slurred words indicated otherwise, but she felt her confidence returning. This boy was no villager come to check on her or the horses.

She chanced a glance upward to see that Falada’s ears were not pressed back in warning, but forward. He was curious, not afraid.

“I came to get my medicine bag.”

The boy stopped a few paces away. She could make out more of his features now, the glow clinging to the contours of his face, his hands. He seemed relaxed, at ease. No tension or shock from the fire, unlike the other villagers.

“Who are you?”

He bent forward with the grace of a courtier. He was bowing to her.

“I have plenty of names. Depending on who you ask, some not very pleasant.” He wrinkled his nose and there was definite humor in his words. “You can call me Goodwyn, though. It’s the name I gave your friend.”

Instinct told Silver he was referring to Sunny. He seemed pleasant enough—maybe he was an acquaintance from Sul Galen. Their accents even sounded similar.

“Were you…in the fire?”

His head shook slowly once, twice.

“Not at first. I arrived after everyone had already escaped. I joined a few dogs and a feral cat who were searching for survivors. We just arrived at the camp a few minutes ago.”

Silver struggled to understand.

“You…joined…what do you mean?”

The young man—Goodwyn—tilted his head.

“I searched the village for survivors,” he repeated simply.

“With dogs and a cat? Do you mean you were looking for animals left behind?”

He chuckled. “No, I mean I helped the animals who were searching for their humans. They’re tending to the wounded now.”

“Tending to the wounded…” Her immediate reaction was disbelief, but hadn’t Falada and Guingalet herded the horses without the aid of humans? Animals could be intelligent; it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that the local dogs had tried to save their human companions.

Remembering the survivors, her impatience returned. There were people who needed her help. She straightened her posture against the lingering headache.

“I’m not sure who you are, but I don’t have time for jokes. I need to bring these supplies to the barber surgeon so we can stabilize the wounded.”

Goodwyn remained standing between her and the pathway that led through the trees. She stepped forward.

“Please move aside.”

Closer now, she could see the outline of his round, dark eyes, the quirk of his mouth.

“I have a message for you.” He ignored her command.

Silver gritted her teeth, her annoyance rising.

“I don’t have time for messages. I need to get back to the camp.”

“And you will. But first you need to listen. I believe you’ll find what I have to say important, and I won’t have a chance to tell you later.”

Silver wasn’t sure who this boy was or where he came off thinking he could demand her attention when people were dying, but she wasn’t confident she could find another clear path in the dark.

“Can’t you tell me tomorrow? Or at least wait until I’ve delivered my supplies?”

“No,” the boy replied firmly, the faintest hint of a growl in his voice. A shiver ran down her spine. She stepped to the side, but he quickly moved to block her again.

“Please move!” She was growing desperate and more than a little angry.

“No.”

Silver was not a violent person by nature. But she was strongly considering making an exception. “Harm None” may be her creed, but what if harming one meant saving more?

With a frustrated growl, she pressed her palms against Goodwyn’s chest and shoved hard, intent on rushing past him when he stumbled.

He didn’t stumble, though. He took a graceful step aside and Silver found herself careening toward the ground instead. Strong arms caught her before she fell and set her right again.

“Silver, I’m not trying to make things worse for you. The barber surgeon and his son are taking good care of the wounded with the supplies you helped him retrieve.”

She blinked, stunned.

“How do you know my name?”

The glow which marked his mouth curved crookedly upward.

“I know a lot of things about you.”