Rejection (Boyxboy)

10. Knowledge

Felan stood in the pitch black woods, relieving himself against a bush. The sun had not yet risen, but the man was awake anyway. He yawned heartily, and used his free hand to rub his eyes. It had been five years since he came to live on this mountain. It had been five years of hard work, long winters, and unbearable sickness when he ate the wrong fruits.
But it had also been five years of freedom. He was no longer subjected to his parent's wrath, or the will of the alphas who hated him. For Felan, his freedom meant everything. But his freedom also meant getting up at the ass crack of dawn to trade for his means of living.
Felan finished up and shook his shaft, then tucked it back into his trousers. Today he would be traveling to a village on the other side of the mountain. He had closer villages to trade with, but refused to go anywhere near them. Too much sorrow came from the nearer villages. And he had too much hatred for the inhabitants.
He had his pack, which was filled with the skins he planned to trade, as well as a one day supply of food. He'd get some food from the other village for the return journey. Felan also had his bow, and ten new arrows. He'd carved them himself, from Osage orange trees that grew, speckled through the forest.
He was rather proud of his bow, with how much work he'd put into it. It took Felan nearly a year to perfect his craftsmanship, always having to deal with weak bows and the bows sometimes snapping in half the first time he drew the string. He'd worked out a string made from a braided and pounded rawhide and sinew mix. He'd found early on that while the rawhide was strong, it became harder to pull and would sometimes break when it dried out. Sinew was the opposite. It was too easily stretchable, and would become stretched. Now, four years after perfecting his technique, he still found himself making new strings every two months or so.
When the sun rose, Felan went back to his cave and put out his fire, wrapping the fish that he'd smoked, and putting it in his pack. Then he set off for the mountain path that he'd carved out of the trees.

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As the sun reached a very low point in the sky, Felan walked past the first house on his way into the village. He stopped for a drink at the well, then kept moving toward the market. Felan gazed around, naturally uncomfortable in such a tightly packed environment. After years in the empty woods, this village always made him uneasy, due to the rising walls of the houses, and people who talked too loudly.
The man reached the market and unpacked his furs. There were plenty of rabbits to go around, so he didn't spend much time working with those, though he ate plenty of them. Instead Felan had bear, deer, ram, and mountain lion. He worked with predators the best, and found he enjoyed the battle, waiting to see who came out on top. He was excellent at cleaning the hides, and so he had plenty of regulars here in town. Of course they knew little about him, and he was always careful not to be followed. Felan was quite sure that his stops in this village were starting rumors. A young, ragged man who came from the mountains, never talked, and then left as quickly as he came. Surely people were curious. So he avoided interaction as much as possible.
In about an hour, he had made all his stops, and was now loaded up on supplies, and just enough coin to buy a new pair of trousers, and a good meal.
Felan stopped into a local pub and set his pack under the table, wrapping his legs around it. Just because he didn't think anyone would mess with him, didn't mean he was stupid and cocky. He knew there would always be people who wanted supplies more than they wanted to steer clear of his imposing figure.
Felan grunted out his order, and took a sip of the mead that was slid his way immediately. Then he settled into his chair on the far end of the room and simply listened. It was a good way to get an idea of what was going on in surrounding villages, to simply listen. In this place, where people from all over gathered and became loose lipped, he often learned a lot.
Tonight however, he learned something that he regretted. Some foolish teenagers had been wandering about the nearby woods, chopping branches and plants down.
"Yeah, well you know Gomre." One man said, alcohol inhibiting his ability to speak quietly. "He's always out there stomping around. Weirdest thing today, though. He came screaming back from the woods, yelling about fuckin' magic. And right after him came a whole stampede of moose!" The man burst out laughing, and his companions looked enraptured in the story.
Felan didn't wait for his food to arrive, but he got up, slung his pack on and grabbed the man by the shirt.
"Which direction?" Was all he grunted out. The drunk mad stopped his retort at the look in Felan's eyes, and stuttered out some instructions. The man fell on his hefty behind as Felan walked from the pub, and made his way into the woods.
As he walked in the direction he was told, the air grew chilly, and the already dim forest grew darker.
Felan came to a stop and looked down at his feet. Even in the darkness, he could make out the signs of the Faerie circle. He stepped into the circle and kept walking, though the moment he crossed, eyes began to watch him.
"Stupid little boys." He thought to himself when he came upon a grand tree that had branches destroyed and trampled on the ground.
"I am here to present an offering." He said in the eerily quiet woods. Even the birds and the beetles had stopped to listen, paused to watch what ensued.
"Your kind is not welcome here." Came a hostile response from behind him. Felan nodded in understanding, not yet turning to look. The person continued, "Your kind does nothing but damage the beautiful things that have been living for a century."
Felan nodded again and said, "I understand that your space has been violated, and I am sorry," he paused for a moment, then turned. "I have come to offer my services in whatever way I can."
The man behind him regarded Felan with disapproving eyes. "And what would someone such as you be able to offer the fae?"
Felan smiles softly and he said, "Trades."
The faerie look unimpressed, and responded, "my people have no need for fruit, or animal skins that we are able to gather ourselves."
Felan nodded knowingly, and he answered quietly, though his voice was loud in the silence still, "I offer you knowledge."
This piqued the faerie's attention, and he stepped closer slowly, "What do you know, that I would want to hear?"
"I have knowledge of many things. Hunting techniques, human kindness and human wrath, languages, knowledge of the gods, and much more. All I ask is that you forgive the actions of a few young boys, and do not destroy this village."
The faerie smiled wickedly and he said, "Fine, I will accept your deal, on one condition."
"Which is?"
"You give me your name."
Felan had long since known the dangers of the fae, and how they played mischievous tricks. If he gave this man his true name, he would no longer be able to control himself as he pleased. The fae would take him, and take away his coveted freedom.
So he responded in kind, "I will not give you my name, but you may call me Fey."
The faerie smiled more brightly than ever and nodded once, disappearing into the shadows.
Felan knew that he had just made a deal with a member of the fae, and he needed to honor it. Though he could not see any sign of life, he knew they were listening. "I will be heading home now. If you still wish to see me, seek me out." And he spoke vague instructions of the whereabouts of his cave, and then set off back toward the village.
As soon as he stepped out of the faerie circle, the birds picked their singing back up, and the bugs of the earth began to click again. The moon was able to shine back through the canopy of trees, and he made his way back by the light.
The trek back to his home was a long one, albeit his well traveled path. When he arrived home it was nearly noon the next day.
Felan rounded the rock structure that sat at the mouth of his cave, and saw the faerie immediately. He smiled warmly, better to not betray his nerves, and invited the man in for tea.
"I suppose I should ask what your name is, too." He said as he poured a second cup. They'd been discussing the flow of the nearby rivers and how it often carried songs in it, sung from another faerie circle further upstream.
"You may call me Kadir." The faerie spoke, staring at Felan over the crudely crafted mug.
"It's a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Kadir."

((fuCK I LOVE KADIR AND FELAN. Pictured above is what I imagine Kadir looks like. Model's name is Cohe Paroix.))