Hunting the Fairy Tale

Chapter 2 - The Dirtman

"Sure, Ma."

I'm relieved to hear the answering voice coming from the foyer. The sentence was too short to give anything away about the speaker, though. I cross the hall in three fast strides and enter the sanctuary of the huge kitchen.

Coward!

Well, it seems as if he's gone outside to fetch the trunk. The trunk, I know from experience, is unwieldy and heavy. It contains my mother's entire life after all. It's going to take him a while to get it from the car and into the house. I'll wait for him to get back inside then I'll go greet him. Besides, I'd come to the kitchen to soak my dress before the stains on it settle in for good.

In the laundry section behind a wall at the back of the kitchen, I rub pre-wash into the stains, drop the dress in a plastic basin and rinse my hands. I begin to pace up and down, my fingers worrying the hem of my crocheted cardigan. What if the trunk is too heavy for him to get up the patio steps alone? Or he hurts his back trying to get it out of the car all by himself. The least I can do is to go lend him a hand and shut Little-Piddle up. The dog is freaking out at the front door as if he owns the house and Hunter is the stranger invading it.

It's going to take a few days to get him out of hysterically-bark-at-everything mode again. We probably should've found him a new home, but I couldn't bring myself to part with my grandmother's dog. None of this is his fault, he's as lost as we are. Besides, we've always been partners in crime, breaking my grandmother's many rules. I cannot just abandon him now.

Don't go there now...

My mind made up, I bravely leave the kitchen and stride down the hallway toward the living area and the foyer beyond it. I am Willow-Warrior on my way to meet the enemy.

Oh, wait! That's not right...

"Hey, squeaky toy. Hey, come here, I don't wanna step on you."

From the sound of it, Hunter is already back in the house and is becoming acquainted with Little-Piddle. He's laughing. "Gross, stop that! Hell knows where that tongue's been."

His voice is in the lower tone ranges, not quite what I'd been expecting. Willow-Warrior is feeling nervous again, ready to admit defeat and run back to the kitchen. Hunter sounds too male, but there's a husky gentleness to his voice that sets me at ease enough to forge ahead... a little slower.

Yes, I'm forging ahead in slow motion now.

Gathering all my courage, I step out of the space between the living area and the study and enter the foyer. My greeting dies unuttered in my throat.

At first, I'm not quite sure what I'm looking at. Surely, the young man standing just inside the front door is too large to be Aunt Beth's son and too dark and too dirty. There is nothing sensitive or refined about the way he looks. He's holding my mother's trunk balanced on one shoulder as if it weighs nothing while cradling Little-Piddle in his other arm. The dog is doing his best to devour his face.

Messy dark hair, tracksuit pants, and a long-sleeved t-shirt dirtier than sin. I take a step backwards. This can't be happening! I've stepped back into a wall and with my flight cut short, I cannot do anything but stare at the dirty young man hulking in the doorway.

He's looking down at the dog in his arm when he becomes aware of my presence and looks up with his eyes first, before raising his head to face me. The action makes him seem more than a little predatory. His name suits him after all.

He seems to be a little taken aback at first and then he smirks. It might've been meant as a smile, but it could definitely be interpreted as a sneer. I can feel my hackles rising.