11 The mysterious, beautiful stranger

A few hours into our journey, Ithuriel brings the carriage to a steady halt, veering the horses into a clearing among thickets of undergrowth. I straighten up abruptly, suddenly painfully aware of the crick in my neck. I groan.

"I'm going to feed the horses," he affirms, raising his voice so he knows I have heard him, peering over his shoulder with a nod. Stretching, I push back a few wisps of hair that had fallen out of place.

"I'm going to feed myself," comes my grumbling reply, punctuated with a drowsy yawn. "Do you have any food?" I call over to Ithuriel, who has already promptly made his way to the front of the carriage to unhook the horses.

"In the black box, you'll find them" he yells back ardently, as he soothes the stallion's muzzle tenderly in his hands. I stick my tongue out at him in spite, swivelling myself around. Black box. I think in a chant. Black box black box. My stomach growls. I bring up a few sparks of light from the tips of my fingers, illuminating the boxes with a fiery glow that sputters and sparks.

"Ah ha!" I exclaim loudly, picking off a large box from the top of the pile. It's heavy in my hands, causing me to sway dizzily, as I carefully begin to prize it open with my nails. With a final grunt, the lid springs up and the carriage shudders, revealing a packed array of dried meats, berries and cakes and breads. The smell hits me in the face like a bull to a flag. My mouth waters. The cakes are still delightfully warm, and I spend a moment breathing in the heavenly smell, like a bakery in the early hours of the morning. It smells of home, warm, friendly, much unlike this dark forest. Humming, I pick out some berry cakes and put them down carefully on the floor of the carriage, resealing the box with a satisfying click. I drop my cloak and hop out the carriage, stumbling a little at the lack of my wings for balance, laughing nervously to myself. I note with a dissatisfied frown that Ithuriel has already disappeared into the undergrowth with the horses, leaving a messy trail of hoof prints and the heavy indents of his boots.

"More cakes for me then," I sigh reluctantly, but not altogether upset, reaching over the carriage to pick up the two cakes in my hand. I pop one into my mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

The forest is dense and quiet, the moon nowhere to be seen through the canopy of trees. The whole forest seems to suck out the light from the sky, so that even the tiny lanterns lighting the road seem to do nothing to aid the impenetrable darkness. No longer do I hear the tiny romping of animals in the undergrowth, or the chitters of sprites and fairies whirring in and out the trees. Just the ominous darkness, and the tiny glowing lights. I walk down the road, scuffing my shoes on the occasional upturned root, dead leaves crunching like crackling underfoot. As I walk, I toss little crumbs of cake mindlessly into the bushes for the Faey folk small enough to eat them. My dress swirls in billows of smoky fabric around my heels, the little golden embroidery barely visible, my pale skin luminous against the black straps sinking into my flesh. I think I must look odd, pasty, bright and luminescent, pacing the forest floor under a dull and ethereal light. Like an elf, except my ears are a little too long, my eyes a little too bright. And if you looked a little too close, you might see a faint golden glow emanating off my body, of the raw power of the heavens trying to escape the confines of its custody.

The silence rests uneasily on my ears as I pop the remainder of the last cake into my mouth, swallowing it carefully. I look back. Peering into the gloom, the shape of the carriage is gone, lost to the impenetrable void of darkness.

"You really shouldn't be out here alone,"

At the sound of a voice, I start, whipping my head around sharply. Casting around in the gloom, there is only darkness. My heart beats fast in my throat, my breath heavy. Why hadn't I heard them approach? For a moment I reach a quivering hand down for my sword, and then I realise it's not my sword I need, its light. Shaking, I cast my hand down instead.

Ardere, I think, coils of burning golden flames shooting down towards the ground as I move to steady my hand. The flame crackles as it hovers above the earth, casting dark shadows panning out from the forest. Black shapes twist before my eyes, taking on the form of monsters, of horned creatures with sharp teeth, of orcs, of goblins, or demons. I try to suppress a scream that begins to bubble in the back of my throat. My vision blurs, wobbly and distorted.

"Careful," says the low voice, softly. "I'm not going to hurt you." The voice is a smoky, gentle, but distinctly male. With the light now easing my view, I draw my sword and inch from my waist. The sword glimmers in the light of the fire, flashing a warning signal to the thick extense of darkness before me. A tall figure hovers at the edge of the ring of light, a hooded black cloak drawn tight and low over their face, white shirt partially unbuttoned despite the cold. Their face is obscured in shadows. I raise my sword a little more, my eyes gleaming wickedly in the light, flashing a dangerous mossy green. I must look mad.

"I'm not going to hurt you," the figure repeats earnestly, drawing up their pale hands as they step further into the light, as if to subdue me. I remain stoically silent. Straining to peer underneath the large hood, I catch a glimpse of golden eyes, twinkling against the glow, veiled by thick sooty lashes that would make even the forest elves jealous. I recoil slightly. It isn't often you come across a creature with such unusual, bright eyes, even among the angels, golden eyes are very rare. For a moment I stare, wondering to myself with a fearful curiosity exactly what creature I had stumbled across. Or more accurately, what creature had stumbled across me. I let my hand hover on the hilt of my sword, my knuckles white, my fingers tense. The figure see's my stance and freezes. Their eyes meet mine.

"People don't usually scare the hell out of me on a dark night when they want to introduce themselves," I say slowly, hitching up my sword a little more.

The great forest is a vast place, for all I know, he could be anyone: a vampire, an elf, a tricksy forest sprite, perhaps a friendly spirit of the wood. There would be no way to tell for certain, at least, not yet.

The man pulls up, surprised, as if he wasn't expecting to hear my voice. Despite the darkness and the pale luminescence of the fire, his eyes seem to glow from under the hood- a bright ruddy gold that shimmers with curiosity, like cats eyes. It takes me a moment too long to realise he has taken another step towards me.

"People don't usually come travelling in these parts of the woods this late in the night," he shoots back softly, laughing a little. It is a beautiful laugh, a rich, velvety murmur that sends a delicious quiver through me. The oddness of his tone surprises me- strangely intimate, as though I am a friend he is sharing a joke with. Perhaps that is what all the folk are like in the forest. The figure moves closer, like a dance, his raven feathered cloak pirouetting behind him. I catch the starkness of his jaw under the black of the hood, a flash of white teeth, locks of dark curly hair clinging to his face like shadows. My breath hitches in my throat. There is a peculiar grace about him, enchanting, the way his body moves against the light- more delicate than any of the other folk of Faey, and I can't help but watch. The sweet softness in his voice catches in the air, in the motion of his hands as he holds one out to me.

"May I?" he asks, and I suddenly understand what he means.