With only a few yards between them, Michael and the fairy stared at each other. Nightfall was upon them, and the last tiny bit of sun light barely illuminated the sky. A breeze whirled past them, pulling off the hood of her cloak before it disappeared into the trees. When she lowered her gaze he did the same, staring at the box in his hands, which held the bird inside.
There were three reasons for his visit to the Woodlands. The first, to tell her about the plan and obtain her light. The second, to ask her to take care of the bird. The third, to say goodbye.
After overhearing his father's plans for him, he had no choice but to make this visit his last.
He lifted his head and walked towards her.
The fairy did not meet his eyes when he stopped in front of her, she only continued to stare at the snowy ground.
"Hello."
"Hello," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
When another breeze rushed by, it blew a few stray strands of her hair into her face. She tucked them behind her ear, then made a move to turn away, but he gently grabbed her arm to stop her.
He stepped closer and held out the box for her to hold. She looked up at it, then up at him before taking it. He then reached behind her and slid the hood of her cloak back onto her head. When it fell past her eyes, he pulled it back slightly. Because Michael was not expecting it, he was caught off guard when their eyes met, and found himself staring into the brown orbs a little too deeply for a little too long.
Once he got ahold of himself, he took the box from her hands and stepped back. "I cannot stay long. I came to tell you the Witches have agreed to help. One of them is a friend named Zanna. Her coven helped the Fae before, so you can trust them."
She remained silent.
He did not expect her to jump for joy upon hearing the news, only some sort of reaction.
"She said the door can only be opened on Moonrise, and informed me of the requirements for opening it."
Her head perked up then, and she glared at him. Her expression was hard to read, and one he had never seen on her before. "And you are still willing?"
"I told you your escape ensures the safety of someone important to me. To do that, I am more than willing."
"Then you must know Fae light is one of the requirements."
He nodded.
She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, and that same hand then disappeared underneath her cloak and reappeared holding a dagger. Before he could react, she held out her left hand and sliced her palm with the dagger in her right.
His eyes darted back and forth between the blood dripping onto the snow and the calmness on the fairy's face and within her eyes. "What are you doing?"
"Is this not what you came for?"
He placed the box on the ground, grabbed the handkerchief from her hand and pressed it on top of the wound. He had come for her light, but did not think retrieving it would have been so...gruesome. "And that was the only way?"
"Not the only way, but the quickest. Fae light is our very essence, making up every part of us, including the blood in our veins. Give this to your friend."
He ignored her, and pulled out his own handkerchief from his coat pocket. He used it to hold hers in place by gently wrapping it around her palm to tie it.
He remembered what Zanna said about the fairy being away from the Fae and the effect it might have had on her and her magic. Would the loss of blood only further weaken her?
"There is nothing I can do for you should you pass out from loss of blood."
"It will heal."
When he finished tying it, he glanced up at her. "That is not the only reason I came. I also have a favour to ask." He looked down at the box before picking it up. "'Tis a bird currently healing from a broken wing. As my days are becoming busy, I can no longer take care of it. Would you be willing?"
He held it out for her to take.
She stared at it, then up at him before taking it. "You brought your bird all the way here, when the wolf you were with earlier would probably be eager to take care of it for you."
A smirk tugged at his lips.
He was not going to pretend he did not know what she was talking about. He knew she had spotted him with Danica, but was not certain if she knew he had known she was there.
"Were you spying?"
Her mouth opened and eyes narrowed, but she stopped herself from replying and looked away.
"Did it bother you?"
She continued to avoid his gaze. If she thought her silence would stop his questions, she was wrong. It only confirmed she was, in fact, bothered.
He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving her face. "Why?"
Still, no answer.
He opened his mouth, ready to deliver the unavoidable explanation, but stopped himself when he realized it would not change anything between them. He would still be a wolf being forced to take a mate, and she, a fairy he was never going to see again.
He stepped back. "Do not worry. Your paths will never cross again, and neither will ours. As I said, I am becoming busy, so, I think it will be best if Zanna meets with you from now on."
That made her finally look up at him.
"There are only two people I trust most in the world, and she is one of them. I hope that reassures you."
She nodded, then placed the box on the ground. She then held up her left hand, untied his handkerchief and balled up and placed her blood-soaked one inside of his before handing it to him.
He did not know what he expected when he told her he would no longer be coming to the Woodlands, but the fact he had expected something—other than a bloody handkerchief as a parting gift—was proof enough that he was making the right decision.
He took the handkerchief from her and shoved it in his jacket pocket. He turned to leave, but stopped and looked at her. "Your name. Will you tell me?"
Standing so close, he saw the depths of her contemplation within her eyes. But when her lips suddenly parted, he immediately turned his back to her.
He thought if this truly was the last time he was going to see her, he would have liked to know her name. But once faced with the opportunity, a realization washed over him—that perhaps they were never meant to be more than just strangers, meeting only for a moment in time in order to pass each other by.
"Actually, I think it best you do not. Goodbye, little fairy."
* * *
He had to find Gabriel.
He had to save him.
He had to get to safety.
And so, he ran.
He had no clear destination in sight as the Woodlands was foreign territory he had never explored before. So, as much as the light casted down from the full moon tried to navigate him through the snowy lands, the darkness of the night was so great that even if he found the correct path that would lead him out—lead him back home—he would not have recognized it.
Even in wolf form he feared his speed would not be enough to outrun them. But he could not afford to be caught.
He did not know how long he had been running, but he did not dare stop. Adrenaline kept him from slowing his pace, and fear kept him from looking behind to see if he was still being chased.
Just as he jumped over a fallen tree, a dark cloaked figure suddenly appeared in front of him. With no opportunity to avoid the collision, he braced himself for the impact. But the figure took a single step forward and lunged at him.
He cried out when he felt a sharp pain in his stomach, and his body hit the cold ground hard. He tried to move, to get up, but the pain was so great it had completely incapacitated him.
He had been caught.
And as he listened to the crunch of snow beneath the feet of the approaching cloaked figure, he knew his pain would soon come to an end.
He had failed to protect Gabriel. To save him.
He fought to keep his eyes open, but only managed to see a flash of red before darkness grabbed hold of him and pulled him under.
When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the bright full moon hanging above him in the dark starry sky. It took a second for him to remember he was in the Woodlands, but failed to remember how he ended up passed out and laying in the snow.
He made a move to get up when pain erupted from his stomach and made it impossible. He looked down to find an open wound and his blood staining the snow beneath him.
Panic struck him hard, and was quickly followed by fear.
He was dying. He was dying and he did not know why or how.
Had it been them? Was this his punishment? There was a nagging feeling—perhaps even an answer or thought—at the back of his mind, but he could not coax it into coming to the forefront.
Instead, he thought of his mother, and hoped his death would not break her. Next, his father, and hoped, well, for nothing as he knew he would not shed a tear for him. Lastly, he thought of Gabriel, and hoped he would not blame himself.
Apart from his shallow breaths, the Woodlands was eerily quiet. Peaceful. Even though he was far from the comforts and familiarity of his home, and an intruder in a foreign land, he thought it might not be the worst place to die.
As he laid in the snow, the pain in his stomach slowly started to subside, and a coldness he had never felt before began to spread throughout every part of his body. Soon, it became a struggle to keep his eyes opened as he felt himself getting weaker by the second.
It would not be long.
All he could do was look up at the moon through blurred vision and let out a whimper. For help? Hope? He was not entirely sure. He had no strength to howl, so perhaps it had been his way of saying goodbye.
And then, he heard it. Footsteps.
His heart began to race as he wondered if it was his attacker.
He was able to turn his head slightly. Not much but enough to at least not be at such a disadvantage.
He could not see it clearly, but he could smell it. A sweet smell he had never come across before, but one that made him impossibly certain that it was a fairy. It had to have been as he was on their lands.
He should have been afraid, but fear was the last thing he felt as the fairy continued to venture closer to him. Instead, he hoped not for it to not to be afraid, only that it would not be afraid of him.
Before he knew it, the fairy was crouched down beside him. Now that it was close, he could clearly see its face.
And then it—she—spoke. "I promise not to be afraid of you, if you promise not to be afraid of me."
Michael woke up breathing heavily and his heart racing. It took a second for his eyes to adjust in the dark, but when they did, he sat up and stared across the room at his wardrobe.
This was the second time he had that dream, only he was certain now more than ever it was more than that.
It was a memory.
He stretched across his bed and pulled open the drawer of his bedside table. After retrieving a key, he rushed over to his wardrobe, unlocked the one door he always kept locked and opened it. He dropped to his knees, grabbed the hidden bag and pulled out the red cloak.
A part of him already knew, but had to look at it with his own eyes to confirm it was the same cloak from his dream. But even more surprising was learning it belonged to the fairy he had just said goodbye to.
It was impossible, and yet he had just seen her face as clear as day in his dream. And he felt it in his gut that his mind was not playing tricks on him.
Cloak in hand, Michael stood up, walked over to his window, and stared out into the night at the Woodlands.
If the cloak was real, and the dream really a memory, then there could only be one real truth: he and the fairy had met before.
Was she the reason he had not died? If so, why could he not remember?
He looked down at the cloak, then back up at the Woodlands.
It was the only place that held the answers to his questions, and inside of it was the only person who could provide them. And if he wanted them, he had no choice but to cancel his plan of never returning.
A/N: No matter how hard I try to keep these two apart, something keeps pulling them back together. Who's ready for Michael to finally regain his memories? Let's hope he can handle it IF they do return!