The Sound Of Solitude - Part 3/3 (Early Access) (Patreon)

Unexpectant of Keeper's immediate re-appearance, Rory attempted to return to her routine.

Everything felt off-kilter, as though a crucial step had been forgotten. Like a missed meal. There was nothing she could do but believe Keeper would come back. Rory got through a lot of tea. A lot of soup. And a lot of letters to her mentor that she did not send - she couldn’t bear to leave the cabin and risk missing Keeper.

On the fourth day, Keeper appeared. The first toe that peeked out from the tree line sent a surge of adrenaline through Rory's entire body. The tip of a pointed foot that she recognised as though it were her own. And into the clearing Keeper danced, trailing light and pollen through the undergrowth.

She had healed well. There was no restraint in her movements and she glowed with vitality once more. Rory sighed quietly, and happily, to herself.

Directly ahead of the cabin, Keeper turned.

Suddenly, she was hurtling towards Rory at a speed she had never shown before. She leapt up, grabbed at the railing at Rory's elbows and heaved her chest over it, letting her legs dangle from the porch, a few feet from the grass. For a moment, Rory's face lowered in expectation of a kiss. Keeper blinked up at her with a grin and suddenly she felt foolish. Rory pulled back, and Keeper freed one arm to dig under her clothing. It gave Rory a moment's reprieve to catch the breath that had been knocked out of her at Keeper's sudden approach.

Placed upon the flat top of the railing was a chunk of wood. Rory glanced at it, then at Keeper, who had produced it from her dress. Keeper pushed it closer with a sparkling smile. A gift. It could have been a pile of deer droppings and Rory would have reacted the same way.

Delicately, she scooped the wood into cupped hands, making a show of her surprise and gratitude. It had been whittled with something very thin and very sharp. The craftsmanship was beautiful, and she only had to bring it up to her face to realise what the shape was.

A small bunch of comfrey flowers. The very same that Rory used in her healing salve. How Keeper could have deduced an exact ingredient from such a small sample, Rory couldn't fathom. She rolled it over her palm, admiring the detail in the piece. In the short stalk, a hole had been dug out, presumably for a necklace string to run through.

With a deep, preparatory breath, Rory projected "thank you" as clearly as she could.

Keeper dropped her face to her hand, pressing it to the railing sweetly. Her eyes pulsed with a brighter glow for a moment and a flush hit Rory in the face.

Just as quickly as she had hopped up, she leapt away again. Keeper returned to the trail with lively skips and soon disappeared into the trees to the side. Far too soon for Rory.

A niggling regretful feeling sat in her chest for the rest of the day. Perhaps she should have reached out. Touched her. Attempted to speak more. Kissed her.

Rory knew given the chance again she would still freeze with indecision, but the thought of what could be followed her until sundown.

The evening chill seemed milder than usual as Rory awaited Keeper's return. That didn't mean she could be without her scarf, though. Her new necklace sat atop it. She fiddled with it while she waited, knowing she was early.

Tonight, Keeper's glow preceded her, lighting up the forest a few feet ahead. When the spirit herself finally appeared, Rory was leant over the porch railing, breath bated.

Keeper launched herself at the wrap-around porch, hitching up onto the railing brazenly and dropping to her knees. Her face still had a few inches of height over Rory’s, but a crooked neck closed the gap. The kiss was soft, both cautious and curious. When a pair of thin hands took Rory’s cheeks between them, the kiss changed. Bolts of energy skimmed her skin out from Keeper’s palms, travelling down her body until they could be returned to the ground through her feet.

Rory allowed her own hands to wander. She grabbed at Keeper’s tiny waist and squeezed, drawing a keening sound from the small spirit. With Rory’s hands secure around her, Keeper let her weight drop forward off the railing and onto Rory. The sudden push had Rory stumbling back, Keeper’s body in her arms and their lips still attached, through the front door and into the kitchen. Keeper was unperturbed, squeezing at Rory’s face and kissing her hungrily.

With a fling of her knee, Rory launched her boot at the cabin door, closing it against unwanted eyes. The forest had been hers and Keeper’s until now, Rory would happily keep it that way.