Rhys Downing's Arc

Chapter 1 of 4

Rhys Downing had watched the mushroom woman from across the market for three weeks, and he still did not know how to say hello. He knelt in the moss behind his cabin, whittling a wooden owl the size of his thumb. The mask covered the lower half of his face, as it always did. His hunting years had ended. His hands wanted quieter work now. He wanted a wife. He wanted a child on his knee. He did not know how to want those things out loud. Her name was Trema Starlight. She tended the elders near the fountain and made the children laugh by glowing faint blue when they tugged her sleeves. Rhys knew no one who knew her. He could not walk up as a stranger in a mask and ask for her time. That would frighten her, or worse, it would frighten him into silence. Wings hummed above the fence. "You've been carving the same owl for an hour, hunter." Lorelei Sweetwhimsy hovered at his shoulder, purple hair loose, gold on her wings catching the afternoon light. She was the fairy who ran the tearoom at the edge of the swamp and knew everyone worth knowing. Rhys had spoken to her twice. Both times she had left him feeling read. "I'm busy," he said. "You're stalling." She landed on the fence rail. "I know where you look, Rhys. I see the mushroom girl look back. Neither of you will move first. I find that unbearable." His knife stopped. "She looks back?" "Every market day." Lorelei smiled. "I've asked her to tea tomorrow. I've asked you to tea tomorrow. Same table. I won't stay long." "You didn't ask me." "I'm asking now." He set the owl down. His hands were steady, which surprised him. "She'll think I arranged it." "She'll think a friend arranged it. That's the difference." Lorelei's voice softened. "You don't need to be anyone but the man who carves owls. Bring one." He came the next afternoon. Lorelei's table sat beside the tall pillared shrine, the blue light inside it pulsing slow behind moss and vine. Trema was already there, small hands folded, blue eyes wide above the rim of her cup. Lorelei made the introduction like she was passing a candle between them. "Trema, this is Rhys. He carves. Rhys, Trema keeps our elders alive past their time. I've told you both enough. I'm late for a delivery." She kissed the top of Trema's cap and was gone before Rhys could sit fully. He placed the wooden owl on the table between them. "For the children you watch," he said. "If one of them likes owls." Trema touched the carving with one finger. When she looked up her voice was quiet and warm. "Would you sit a while? I've wanted to ask what's under the mask, but I'll start with your name." He sat.