Refuge

I think I wrote this at the same time as Calypso and Herne were discovering Wildwood Grange, it’s a fun little side hop into an alternate world and snippet of story

The Green King is a powerful figure, tall and broad, his long stride and solid stance belying the silver mixing with the deep wood brown of his hair and beard. Is the silver there in deference to the season only? Come Spring, will those icy threads warm to a new-leaf gold?

Herne the Hunter stands silently behind the King’s left shoulder. The Hunt Master, two faithful hounds at his heels, as he in turn dogs those of his King.

The Green King’s voice is deep and resonant, the echo of woods and rocks and deep, unknown places, yet his eyes, the deep green of pine needles in this season, are kind and smiling. He looks for the best in all before him, but does not hesitate to do his worst, should anyone, or anything, come against his people and kingdom.

They are here, now, to see to a new threat, one first brought to them by a trembling nymph, not of the woodland or waters, but from far beyond, now seeking refuge in another’s home.

They give it gladly, for she brings more than the warning. Any task set, she completes with a will. As she heals from the poison drenching her distant land, she draws the King’s subjects together in friendship, care and hope.

The King pretends not to notice when she turns left instead of right at the corridor to her room. He pretends not to see as Herne draws her into his quarters and closes the door behind them. He simply smiles to himself and sets the rooms next-door aside. They’ll be needing a nursery by-and-by.

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