Letirra

The forest reeked of unnatural silence. No birds called, no leaves stirred and it seemed the inhabitants had turned invisible. All around me was a feeling of dread, the hairs stood up on the back of my neck and for some reason my heart was pounding faster. But still there was no sound, save that of my heart pounding in my ears. I felt uneasy, no uneasy is too weak a word, I felt uncomfortable, anxious and tense. Not daring to move, only my eyes darted from side to side, my ears staining for a sound that wouldn’t come. The trees stood quiet, tall and seemingly branchless sentinels, the green leafy ceiling of my world casting shadows on the floor, as always. And then my breath was suddenly faster, although it must’ve increased slowly for I didn’t notice up until that point. It was quick and shallow barely under control. My body tense and alert, I hovered 5 ft off the forest floor, my little body suspended in the air. Fear washed over me, and it was like I was painted over in one fell swoop, my face paling. The shadow had descended. 1

It was the shadow all fae fear and are taught to fear. I felt it nearing, my skin chilling, covering in goose pimples, although from the lack of sun or fear, I’m not sure. I put on my bravest face, bite my tongue and spun around. A wall of dark golden yellow met me, my wide green eyes traveled up the column of yellow, meeting a pair of blue eyes, gigantic in proportion. I couldn’t move. I knew I should fly, fly far and fast and never look back. But I was awestruck, whether it fear or curiosity I don’t think I’ll ever know. And still, I couldn’t move. No longer wearing my brave face, I pleaded with my eyes, knowing speech would be way beyond both of us. I knew my doom was on the horizon about to peak as I saw its hand drop to a piece of brown cloth at its side. My eyes gave no sign of seeing it, still locked with the deep blue eyes of my captor. 2

I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t scream. It wouldn’t get the satisfaction of my fear just yet. The brown sack was more terrible inside than out, dark and smelling faintly of moldy bread. I was frantic, my breath was trembling, along with the rest of me, but I didn’t fight. No, it wouldn’t get that satisfaction either. I had to calm down. One big, deep shaky breath as I closed my eyes helped a little. But I didn’t open my eyes for a long while.3

A whiff of cold, fresh air woke me, with a small smile on my face thinking I was back in my own little portion of the world, what a rude awakening it was. I can’t place how long I slept, or where I was, but I knew it was dusk and it’d stopped traveling. Those blue eyes peered in at me, basked in, what I guess to be, the sunset. They looked almost sorrowful, regretful. I could feel the sack being shifted around, perhaps untied from the leather strip around it’s waist and set down on something cold and flat. Curiously enough, it left my prison untied, the eyes seemed to apologize as they disappeared from the open mouth of the brown satchel. After waiting what seemed like forever, I cautiously stood up, peeking over the edge of the rough homemade burlap. I didn’t know what to think.4

My captor stood perhaps a good 20 ft in front of me, only his outline visible against the orange flares of the sun’s descent. I could place it at just under 7 ft, built well with broad shoulders and a conflicting aura around it. It was confused. Did it mean to find me? Why did it take me away? With my impeccable hearing, I heard it’s sigh, shoulders slumping a bit as it turned and walked closer back to where I was sitting. This time I had the sense to slip back into the sack, meeting the now sad blue eyes again, my stubborn look fading at its distress. 5

My people had named them ‘essere’ or swooping giants. Being taught they were vicious and greedy and strong, we had all come to fear them. They would scoop up a pixie or sprite as fast as you could say ‘auito’ or help, often laughing and teasing as the hostage squirmed. To us, the little brown sacks at their middle were the death of a fae. But this one, with its blue blue eyes, it defied all those stereotypes. My curiosity kicked in. What did they call themselves? Why did they take fae? Was it a he or she? I suppose if it was smaller, it’d resemble a male faerie so it was male, I decided. 6

His voice startled me, I jumped unintentionally, yet not understanding. Again he spoke, even if I didn’t know what he said, I liked the sound of it. What did he want from me? He sighed, obviously a little frustrated at the language barrier, but he did nothing. His blue eyes moved away from my quickly darkening skylight, and I could hear him walk off, into the forest again. A bit bolder this time, I poked my head out, but his things were still in a pile on the ground. A brown lumpy bag with straps, his leather strap from around his waist, and a long shiny stick, gleaming in the very last of the sun’s light. He’d be coming back from them, and I guess me as well. I could just leave… I could survive in the forest, but something compelled me to stay. Some strange force convinced me to stay put, and by the time I thought to question it, he was back. In his arms he carried a huge bundle of twigs, huge for even him. Perhaps he was making camp, preparing to stay the night here. Soon the twigs were blazing away, from a light that sprung from a special rock he carried in his lumpy bag. Perhaps his people weren’t so unlike our own. His camp resembled an oversized version of one of our hunter’s camps. Fire in the middle, a blanket for sleeping next to it, a pot dangling over it and a stew bubbling away. 7

But over on my cold, flat rock, it was getting colder. I watched him, unnoticed as he set everything up, noting the little differences in the back of my mind. He spooned a bowl of stew from the pot and began eating, he didn’t say another word, or even glance in my direction. Just sat hunched over his bowl, warm by the fire. He didn’t seem to be armed in any way, except for his brute strength. I didn’t see any harm and I could be really quiet when I wanted to be. I flew out of the sack slowly, cautiously, my eyes locked on his form. He didn’t notice. Feeling braver, I crept closer to the warmth of the flame, going on foot now. Holding my breath I moved closer and closer, until I made it to the fire’s edge. Still he didn’t see me, sitting only 4 ft to my right. 8

I jumped when his soft voice mumbled something in his language. Trembling, I froze, maybe he didn’t see me, maybe he was just talking to himself. He spoke again, now looking at me and then smiling. I didn’t know they could smile, before today I thought they had no emotion at all. His smile faded quickly though, probably upon seeing my frightened expression. His gaze fell down, upon his bowl, and then he was offering it to me. Why did he want to feed me? My eyes traveled from the bowl up to his eyes and back again. Again he offered to me, almost insisting now. I smiled, nodding gratefully and taking a few steps closer to where he had set the bowl down. My stomach had been growling since I’d woke up and now I was acutely aware of my hunger. The stew was good, chunks of rabbit meat too big for me to eat along with soft roots and carrots. When I’d finished he smiled at me again, his face glowing softly in the firelight. He moved his hand up to chest, the quick abrupt motion startling me, instinctively I moved back. And then I saw his face, he looked so… concerned and was shaking his head furiously, holding his hands up. Gently he gestured me forward again, his hand back on his chest. “Karaco” he said clearly, pointing at his chest. He had such a different accent, different, but pleasing. My own accent impaired my pronunciation of what I assumed was his name, making it sound something like “Chari-coo.” And then he laughed! They could laugh! His laugh was a wonderful sound, and I found myself not afraid, like I would normally be, but enjoying it. “Kare-a-co” he said, slower this time.9

“Chair-I-co” I tried, still not able to get it right. He just nodded, smiling. Then pointed at me, a questioning look on his face. “Letirra,” I replied, stating my name. But the blank look on his face made me try again. “Le-teer-a” I said again, slowly, rolling my ‘r.’ 10

“Le-teer-ah” he smiled, proud of himself, but missing the tongue roll in the middle. I smiled back, in spite of myself. Wait, what was I doing? He was the enemy. How could I be warming up to him like this? I turned my gaze back to the fire, watching it and ignoring him, he captured me after all. I hardly noticed when he got up to get my sack. With a yawn, he sat back down, then lay down, pulling his blanket over himself and trying to sleep, obviously not wanting to push it or get too close to me. Awkwardly I pulled my sack to make a makeshift bed right where he left me. I didn’t want him to wake up early and accidentally step on me. I fell asleep wondering how all those twinkling eyes got up into the sky. 11

I was awakened early, just after sunrise, by a loud, deep whoop. Frightened, not knowing where to turn, I stayed put, trying to locate the source of the sound. I found it all too soon. Another essere had joined the blue eyed one, Karaco, I guess. Another male, I guessed, but entirely different than my original captor. This one was lankier and shorter, his face was half covered with a dark fur, whereas Karaco had no fur, except for that on his head. This new one was excited about something. Was it me? He was talking animatedly with Karaco, waving his hands all over the place. And Karaco just had that same distressed, sad look in his eye that I had witnessed the night before. Why did this one make Karaco have that look? And then Karaco was pointing in my direction! The new being was hurrying over to me, almost a hungry look in his eye. I zipped back into the sack, not sure what to expect from this one. Karaco seemed so different from others of his kind. The dark brown eye of the new man peered in eagerly at me, his laugh was chilling and he quickly tied up the top of the sack, as if he was afraid I’d get away. Not as frightened as before, I felt almost akin to Karaco. Was this shorter, darker one Karaco’s captor as well? And then I felt the sack being picked up, tied onto a waist band and from the unfamiliar step and horrid stench, I knew it wasn’t Karaco’s side I was at. 12

I spent the day rocking back and forth, alternating between listening to Karaco’s soft pleasing voice and the new male’s deep husky one and thinking, wondering why they need or wanted me. Did I fetch a good price? An ingredient in a medicine? I shuddered, or was it a pet? And every so often, interrupting my thoughts, a thin, bony hand would caress the little brown bag, laughing to himself as I squirmed away from his touch. Or was my purpose something entirely worse?13