Scribbles and Drabbles

Notebook Drabble 25

The forest floor crinkled under Vadid's feet as he combed through into the glade - switching from lush green to old and musty. His nose twitched at the difference, burning to sneeze. He paused, the air now humid and old, leaving a layer of slime over them. A bed of dead leaves lined the floor, and a nest of leafless branches weaved together to create a den of sorts overhead. The noise increased as insects crawled about, feasting on the dead wood. Light peaked through the branches, but the dimness of the place revealed its true intentions.

Vadid took a wrong turn to this place. Moving forwards would lead to danger. Tracing the back of his teeth with his tongue, he stepped backwards. It proved useless. The branches closed behind him, locking him in the den and refusing access to the correct path, the safe path. The way opened, twigs snapping, and a gentle gust of wind ran over his shoulders to tempt him forward.

Not a wrong turn. Someone wanted him to come this way. They'd waited under his attention, drifted, and ensnarled him. A half-remembered phrase fell from his lips. 

A familiar chuckle dug into his ribs. The sensation of something winding between his ribs. Not growing, that happened far, long ago. That resounding feeling crept up his chest and loosened his shoulders despite the danger of the situation. He knew that sound. He knew who he was dealing with even if they hadn't shown their face yet. 

"I'm not a ranger anymore; I don't have time for these games." Vadid didn't dare use a name, not yet. That depended on the form that they were taking. "I'm not walking to your alter."

"When have I ever played games with you?"

"The trick you played in Fallon had me limping for days."

"Fallon was a good time. Could we repeat it?" the voice shifted deeper than normal, filled with longing with a hint of teasing. Vadid flushed, pulling a face as he tried to find them. "I wouldn't mind playing a handsome stud for a while instead of a bottom. You don't seem to mind either."

Vadid didn't miss the wistfulness in the tone. They wanted. Vadid wasn't in a situation where he could provide. "I have a wife now," Vadid said, not entirely sure how they'd react to this news. The branched flinched but didn't move to attack him. They moved slowly through the den, and Vadid noticed how they flicked. "If ... As long as you don't try to steal her from me." If they'd appeared, they wanted to spend time together.

A light chuckle had a more feminine touch to it. "A pretty girl would make people talk."

"With my wife for a different reason than you'd assume. If you haven't decided, male would be better in this case," Vadid nipped that in the bud straight away. The dryad took many forms. They'd clung to Vadid for almost all of them. He didn't need to deal with people talking about him bringing home a second woman for himself or for his wife. The last time the dryad showed up in his life, Vadid didn't think he'd ever see them again. There had been a breakup speech and everything. "I'm rather fond of her, but we are not a love match."

"Good, because your heart belongs to me," sniffed a haughty voice.  

The thing that lived in his ribs tightened around his heart possessively. Vadid laughed and walked towards where they wanted him. That was the dryad he knew and loved. If he'd relaxed into that voice, things couldn't be that bad that they were hiding. 

"Could you even hold the person you used in Fallon for long?" Vadid said, unable to fall the beam from his face. It wasn't easy for them to act hyper mascline for long. Even male, they could rarely pull off the competitive athletic or hunter type. Academics and men with a flare for dramatics suited them more. 

"Hush!"

With the flap of a fan, a final form materialised in front of him. A touch bigger than Vadid but not by much. Definitely attempting a hunter, even if his body language failed him more often than not. Nut brown skin, a healthy sun glow with sun-bleached blond hair and dark eyes that remained the same no matter which form they took, male or female. A scar cut across his eyebrow, not part of the glamour but something showing through from his native form.