"Is it I that should not be here," Michael looked her up and down before connecting his eyes with hers, "or you, little fairy?"
Michael could not say for sure, but the moment their eyes met, it looked as though she lowered the bow ever so slightly. If she was having second thoughts about shooting him, he was certainly grateful. But even if she had the truest of aims, there was not much damage an arrow could do, as the amount of distance between them would have only worked in his favour rather than hers.
What happened next, he could not have predicted. The fairy slowly started to walk towards him, her eyes never leaving his as she approached.
He had never laid eyes upon a fairy before, and yet the closer she got, an undeniable feeling of familiarity washed over him. He did not know why or how, only that the way her dark hair peeking out of the hood was twisted into a side braid that fell to her waist seemed familiar. The way the moonlight bounced off her dark skin and illuminated her large round eyes and high cheekbones looked familiar.
"You would be wise to keep your distance."
She did not heed his warning. If anything, it made her quicken her pace.
If Michael knew what she was, he had no doubt she knew what he was.
Why is she not afraid?
"Stop walking."
She did not.
He was certain he could handle a fight against the fairy, but where he had strength on his side, she had magic. Even so, he was determined to stand his ground.
"I said stop!" He yelled when only a few feet remained between them.
He was about to repeat himself until he realized she was no longer looking at him as intently as he was looking at her, but behind him. And when she bypassed him, dropped the bow to the ground and stretched both her hands out towards the golden door, he realized why.
The designs and symbols on the door had turned from white to blood red.
That cannot be good. Is the door the reason why she told me I should not be here? Did I stumble upon something I should not have?
Michael walked towards her until they stood side by side. Before he could say anything, the fairy closed her eyes and began speaking words he could not understand.
Spells, he assumed.
His eyes were drawn towards the door. The blood red symbols turned back to white, then the door slowly began to disappear, fading in first from both ends of the oak trees until disappearing altogether in the center, leaving behind only that initial flicker of light until it, too, disappeared.
Michael turned to look at the fairy. "What the hell was that?"
She did not answer. Instead, she picked up her bow and turned her back to him. "You should leave. Forget what you saw here tonight, and go back home."
Did she really expect him to leave and return as if nothing happened? As if her very presence and mysterious, magical golden door had not given him every reason to stay? Alone, she was not much of a threat, but what if there were others?
When she started to walk away, Michael went after her. He grabbed her arm, which caused the bow to fall to the ground, then turned and pinned her against the oak tree closest to them, his arm just below her neck. The hood of her cloak fell off in the process, and now that he was able to fully see her face up close and personal, he could not deny her beauty.
"Who are you? Was that door how you came back? Are there more of you?"
Instead of answering, she trailed her large brown eyes over his face, but not once did she look him in the eye.
Michael pressed his arm a bit more firmly against her neck as he leaned in. "Answer me."
"You are bleeding," she said, then lifted her hand.
He tried to pull his head out of her reach, but she was faster. The moment her hand touched his head, it felt like time itself had stopped all around them, and only the two of them existed. He felt her every breath against his lips, and he was certain she felt his against hers. Being so close to the point of breathing in each other's air made him not want to move from that spot, but stay there—in that moment—until they both had their fill.
Michael stared at her, and for the first time, she looked up into his eyes. If he did not know any better, he would say he saw sadness glistening within them as they filled with tears.
Sadness for me? Why would a fairy weep over a wolf?
"Impossible," she whispered, then placed her hand on his chest, just over his heart.
He looked down at her hand, and something within him stirred. But when he felt a warmth from underneath her touch, time seemed to have restarted, thrusting him back into reality.
And reality was remembering what the Fae had cost him. Remembering all he had lost. Remembering she could not be trusted.
Michael replaced the arm under her neck with his hand and squeezed. He could end this—her—right then and there. Squash the threat before it became bigger. But when she made no effort to fight him off, it made him pause. It was as if she was accepting her fate. Accepting what was out of her control.
He thought of his dream—the cloaked figure he could never catch, the howling wolf, the blood on his hands—and the reality it had forced him to accept: that he would never be in control. But it was not until he stared down at the fairy, while holding her life literally in his hand, that Michael realized what his dream truly meant: he could not control what was out of his reach, but he could control what was within it.
And more important than killing the fairy was returning home to do just that.
He released his hold on the fairy's neck and took a step back. "I do not know who you are, why or how you are here. But you did not shoot me when you had the chance, so I shall spare your life as you have spared mine. I suggest you go far, far away, little fairy. I cannot promise I will show the same mercy should our paths cross again."
Michael turned his back to her, but just as he began to walk off, she spoke.
"Follow the rustling trees. They will lead you home."
He looked around the area until he spotted the rustling trees to his left.
The only thought to cross Michael's mind was not if it was a trap, but that she had been watching him long before she made herself known.
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A/N: YAY! Our 'strange little fairy' is alive! Shame that Michael doesn't remember her.
What did you guys love most about their love story in Moonrise?
