Isle of the Faeries

A Threat in all but Words

So since I have two papers to write this week and I am pretty confident I won't have the time to update on Wednesday I figured I'd be nice and update early :) 

Breena

      Declan and Fiona are still asleep when I go out to start the barn chores. The chill of early-October has laced the grass with frost and the morning is crisp and still, even though it is dangerous I love this time of year. My breath puffs in front of my face; the sky is still that predawn grey-blue and the animals call from the barn wanting their breakfast Scottie prances at my feet and the barn cat Harvey winds between my legs.

      The door creaks when I open it and I'm greeted by the warm, comforting smell of hay and animals. I flick on the lights and start by grabbing the bucket of sheep grain. They know the drill by now, I shake the bucket and they follow me to the field, and so the wooly parade begins. Their hooves clatter on the gravel and they bawl wanting the grain, when we get to the gate they rush past me into the field and I follow dumping their feed into the trough. With them out and the gate latched I go back to the barn.

      The chickens are wandering by the door, feathers fluffed, pecking the ground in search of food; I toss their feed out to the side and head into the warmth of the building. I tip Caleo's grain into her bucket then the cows who can eat while I milk them. When the last cow is milked I open their stall doors to bring them to their pasture they walk in front of me; Scottie nips at their heels to move them along and keep them from wandering. Scottie runs after them into the field while I close the gate and I yell out to call the rambunctious dog back shaking my head. A shadow appears at my side. I turn expecting Declan but I'm taken aback when I see instead a man in his early twenties who I have never seen before.

       He is tall and slender leaning against the nearest fence post, his auburn hair hanging in his eyes. I didn't even hear him approaching though he wasn't there a moment ago. His clothes are strange, black trousers and a long black trench coat over a red tunic type shirt. He smells of hot ashes and open flames and it sets my nerves on edge. He turns to face me, his eyes meet mine and my hand flexes around the iron rod in my pocket. Fire flashes and flickers in his eyes and the flames lick at his slit pupils. Definitely not human. When he speaks his voice is crackly like flames, "Bree right?" he smiles, "Kean's friend?"

      I simply nod words stuck in my throat, I can feel the heat and power radiating off of him. I don't think my little iron rod will do much to fend him off. Little warning bells sound in my head loud and clear, I don't want to have this man's attention.

      His grin widens, "Good, just the girl I was looking for," I swallow hard, "I have something for you to give to him." He offers me an envelope that I have no choice but to take with a shaking hand; it is warm to the touch. "See to it that he receives that, if he doesn't, I'll know."

      With that he tips his head to me, turns on his heel and starts for the road, the air around him shimmers like asphalt on a hot summer day then I blink and he's gone. Only the envelope and two scorched foot prints where he stood prove that he was in fact here.

      I turn the envelope over in my hand. It is made of a thick parchment and in red ink it simply reads Kean Donoghue. I know that Kean has an odd relationship with the Fey on the island but it seems that he has the attention of a powerful Fey which is almost never a good thing.

Kean

      I try not to let the shock or apprehension show on my face when Bree hands me the envelope. I know who it's from as soon as I feel the thick parchment material of the envelope. The she tries to hide the sliver of fear behind the nervous smile, but it shines through with the pasty pallor to her skin and the nervous searching of her eyes. He had hunted her down just to get to me. This is why I don't have friends.

      I give her a smile and tuck the envelope in my inner jacket pocket. The thought of riding curdles in my stomach; I will not be able to focus on anything until I read the letter Ciná had given Bree. That means that I will not be able to focus solely on Cinis which will put others in danger, so I'll have to postpone my ride until later.

      I bid a quiet goodbye to Bree telling her I will see her in the morning, the sting of guilt bites at my belly when her face falls slightly. But she nods in understanding and flashes a smile with her goodbye before mounting and riding down to the beach below. Worry plucks briefly at my conscience; part of the reason I make sure to ride with her is to make sure she does not fall victim to an Augisky or a jealous, hungry Merrow on the beach – because while they enjoy drowning young men they like to kill young women almost as much. But the day is clear and warm for early October and the envelope is burning in my pocket literally.

      Cinis let out a rumbling whinny calling down to the little mare near the surf. Much to my surprise Caleo lifts her head and answers him. Cinis begins to shift and prance beside me wanting to go down to the land horse that he had taken a shine to. My rings touch his neck and an ear flicks toward me. I swing up and immediately he starts for the beach, I grab a chunk of his dark mane tying it with three knots and humming over the wind, he gives to the pressure of the rein and we start for home.

      The yard is a bustled of anxious activity when we clatter through the gate. My feet hit the cobbled stone lightly and I loop my reins over Cinis's head and lead him to his paddock. I pull his saddle off and let him loose, he trots around the perimeter of the earthen paddock a keen leaking from between his lips, he wants to run. I rap an iron rod sharply against the metal gate to cut him off, we will run tonight.

       Grabbing my tack I head back to the main barn to find out what the commotion is all about though I just want to retreat to my office to read the letter. In the main barn a handful of grooms are huddled talking with pinched faces. I start for them when a hand lands on my shoulder, it's Riley.

      "Thank God you're back, maybe you can talk some sense into her," he mutters before pulling me to the back ring, "Farlay already lost his left hand and I thing Duely's ribs are broken."

      "What are you talking about?" I snap frustrated with his ramblings.

       Riley grinds his teeth together, "Marissa showed up this morning just after you left and insisted upon riding Avi."