3Pack Fantasy Collection #1
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The Nymph And The Hunter
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Text Copyright 2011 by Natalie Dean
Cover Art Copyright 2011
Smashwords Edition
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Oh, what a pleasure it was to create something of worth and splendid beauty! To lavish nature with the swift delight of brightly colored treasures warmed my heart and contented my endless existence. The awakening of Spring presented my constant duties of a most exciting diversion. As a wood nymph, I was to bind winter with iron fetters as it lay in a spell of sleep, keeping it at bay for another season of life to thrive. Now, at last, my task was nearly coming to an end and I would be free to wander the forest and continually nourish the ivy and flowers as my own will desired. So, I was rightly named Daphne, to honor the love I held for my surroundings and to become one with them as they began to flourish.
But my realm was a quiet, lonely one—separate from the world of men for sake of my kind’s protection. They knew nothing of us but by means of dreams and mythical tales. It was better that way, though we nymphs were not much different to them but for our pale whitish green skin, violet lips, and extravagant, immortal beauty. But our magic abilities frightened them most and they would lash out, war with us if they discovered the truth. We know, for it had almost come to be once, long ago... but the worst was thwarted and so we cleverly submerged beneath the murky waters of chimerical obscurity for sake of our own preservation. The earth summoned me to rouse and embellish its bloom, to turn to liveliness at last. My duty was demanded of me and I could not neglect it. What unthinkable nonsense, what ingratitude... what blasphemy.
As the rosy gold of dawn touched the lofty peaks of the ancient trees in shimmering sparkles, I glided lithely between young saplings, encouraging their emerald leaves to sprout and overflow like vines clinging to their feeble branches. Each seemed to reach humbly toward their looming aged kindred, but their pitiable efforts were in vain. I gazed above at the lightening clouds of soft green rills extending from mighty trunks and yet I could feel no despair by their obvious excellence as my new creations expected me to. For they had become as children to me and I prided myself upon their rising grandeur.
My eyes returned to the feathery seedlings. “Patience,” I counseled in my bell-like voice. "You shall grow as marvelous as they someday. Greatness awaits, I assure you. Consider that and be revived."
I sighed as my path led me toward the edge of the comforting shadows of the wood’s columns. Feeling an impending glimmer of fear, I urged my uncaring footsteps to settle, slow, and become more wary amongst the fern-ridden ground. A chorus of a lark’s morning song compelled my delicate form to freeze for a brief moment in surprise and fear at the unexpected rift against the woodland calm, knowing a clan of men dwelt so near. An animal, however, was of no peril to me. Soon, I recovered and allowed myself a muffled laugh at my headlong foolishness, though my courage was marred a bit by the presumption that made my hands tremble lightly.
Perhaps, I ought to turn back and return another day to finish, I thought faintheartedly.
Ridiculous nonsense. Few humans ever tread upon my lands; and I possessed defenses enough to keep living.
Besides, I had broached the boundaries of my realm countless times before… but this was the first occasion of the year and there was much that could change in that time. A flood of agitation threatened to overwhelm my sense of conviction. Yet I continued anyway.
Obstinate, the lingering mist and dew were clutching to the last sentinel-like cedars, serving as a fluttering veil. I was unspeakably grateful for its cold seclusion for I needed all the concealment I could muster to accomplish the unthinkable without excessive dread. As quiet as was reasonable, I drew near the still limbs of a gray, wilted rosebush at the forest outskirts—the end of all that was familiar, that shielded me—to halt beside it and the bleak beyond. My eyes darted hastily about the glossy meadow and then searched across a rolling hill that saved me from seeing and being seen by the human village that lay just below their rising rocks, imposing to me and my own kin. From my observations, I could find nothing out of the ordinary in this region of the wilderness yet, no passing creature of any kind.
Faint music arising from harps, lyres, and pipes wafted vibrantly above the idle air. Its echoes caressed the earth and the waiting grove, stirring its every breath with the beginnings of frenzied enthusiasm. There escaped from the sounds a jubilance that even I could not resist but to hearken to it with a feverish greed. An awestruck radiance fell upon me and was not easily ignored. A smile of admiration lit my face, calming some of my agitation. They must be dancing—a festival, perhaps, to urge the arrival of Spring? A fleeting, wild wish to join them passed through me only to be whisked away like a welcoming whisper against the wind. I shook my head to drive away the regret, knowing that acting upon that mad thought was unimaginable since I was not even supposed to exist. Was this absurd? Could they truly be so viperous or were the admonitions against them excessive from the mouth of repute? Or, perhaps, 'twas to persuade us from abandoning our hallowed posts merely to dance carelessly with them from dawn until dusk?
Confident enough that I was utterly alone, I returned to the demanding task at hand.
Facing the unadorned thicket, I outstretched my greenish white hand and gently stroked one of its dangling lifeless branches. I breathed deeply, imagining what I wished to come of my power before a warm shiver rippled through my frame and pelted directly into the foliage like lightening through a stormy cloud without scathing either of us. A cheering solace stirred me to my very core, melting steadily through my fingers until the life of the shrub drank it down with an eager thirst.
I opened my eyes to stare in admiration upon a once-withered stem as it thickened and stiffened, glowing with a lively shade of green. Suddenly, a dull brilliance shone as would a stifled star. A bud appeared at its end, unfolding its ruffled satin petals until it grew into a perfect rose of orange complexion fringed with crimson. The light continued to seep through its every limb, nurturing flower after flower to bloom, shrouding each leaf. Before long, clusters of fragrant blossoms, each colored differently like the rainbow, leapt from their hidden rests as though they had merely been unseen rather than nearer to death. And so, by unwavering will and focused thought, I had endowed with beauty and strength to a faint, ashen bundle of twigs. A little hope and a spark of magic was all that was needed to return it to a triumphant life, to truly live.
Unwilling, I ripped my attention away from a rush of pride and recognized the pleasant babbling gurgle of the spring that had long been set at liberty from the earth only to be gathered into the meager mere that collected in the meadow. Since it stood near the forest’s brim and still a distance from the village’s hill, it was wise enough to approach its waters. I carefully sauntered to the pebbled shore and knelt over its veneer to observe the twinkling sun advancing its reign over the day and the peculiar way the pure clouds seemed to billow from the calm water itself. Waywardly, I half-expected fluffs of white to rise from the serene depths and merge into the sky. Then, unable to catch myself to resist vanity, I stared upon my own glassy reflection—my long, silvery blonde hair and moon-gray eyes—and wondered whether I was truly beautiful to all, even mortals, or if I was the exception of nymphs. I breathed in the familiar scent of blossoming florets and streaming blades of grass. I closed my eyes, a small smile lifting my mouth in renewed mirth.
The savage splintering of a fallen twig beneath a boot and a low grunt of pain startled me from my revelry and shattered my haven. I was left defenseless, too far away from the reaches of the forest as my sole aid, and I justly feared whether I would survive long enough to discover who had intruded upon my land. With a gasp, instincts took the reins of my will. My skin roughened and darkened into bark. Becoming rigid, I instantly transformed, my arms into knotted branches and my legs into a single woody trunk. I could no longer move.
I was relieved that my breathing was silenced once my maiden form had become fully masked as a tree, for the fear that flowed over me like a wintry fountain would have betrayed my true presence to whatever invader that approached. Though my eyes were buried deep, I was still able to keep watch over the forest unhindered.
My unwearied limbs clung high and close above me, clustered with curving leaves, as I waited. Only a few moments passed before a flock of spotted sparrows bolted and soared from their hidden perches amongst the brush, frightened into sacrificing their lodgings for the unreachable skies. The boughs of a weeping willow not far from the path I had taken that very morning suddenly wavered without the slightest wind before they were thrust aside by the unseen hands that they covered.
A cloaked figure abandoned the dimness of the woods and strode confidently into the sunlit meadow, making his way toward me. A deep green hood obscured his face but his rugged arms declared his prominent manhood, clearing away any mistake I may have held about him. Frantic, I prayed that he was merely passing through and his curiosity would not prolong the threat he held against my secrecy, and hence my life, longer than necessary. Wordlessly, I cursed myself for not changing into a bird with wings to escape like those sparrows instead of imprisoned by earthen clods and roots. Hasty foolishness. Yet, considering the peril that seemed to be eluding me for the moment, I was both surprised and comforted that I could deceive this creature at all.
Abruptly, the man’s head turned to the side as though his eye caught a thing unexpected. His footsteps strayed to the thorny rose bush that I had just enlivened into rich awareness. He shook his head, bewildered I deemed, and then with surprising gentleness he plucked from the stem one lavender blossom and one orange, twirling them between his fingers. I was uncertain whether I ought to have felt myself exalted by this indirect praise or to take offense at his impertinent act, considering to bristle in defense of my labor. But I realized I would have performed the same deed were I in his stead, unknowing as he was of my presence.
“Strange…” he muttered in a low, silky voice, pocketing the roses without further word.
I cringed, remembering my wretched blunder. Not only had I left the reviving of the surrounding plants unfinished but I had also chosen to disregard a vital natural law: the flowers of a single flora ought to be of one color and not many. I was too accustomed to being alone, my arts heeded by so few passersby, to follow another’s strict standard. There simply was never a need before. I ignored them to please myself. Now, I was panic-stricken—he must be suspicious of something unusual. Would he seek to unravel this unnatural occurrence? Could I still escape unnoticed, untouched?
My thoughts distracted me so that I did not mark the man again until he was beside me, his muddied gray tunic drifting aside with a soothing current of air, exposing his muscular abdomen. I stiffened, my stomach coiling into itself, devastated by something like fear. A long polished bow of dark cedar and a quiver stock-full of arrows hung with familiarity across his broad shoulders by a worn leather strap. A hunter—the greatest menace of all! There was no hope of withdrawing from this quandary with my hide after all. My leaves rustled as I quivered, unable to compose myself.
He raised his face to feel the sun touch his skin, letting his hood fall back. Finally, I was permitted to appraise his features. The sight could not have been more stunning, more jarring. I had never been so near to a man before, leaving me unprepared. Black wavy hair cascaded below his ears, graced by the glinting light. He boasted a straight nose and full lips like crimson. His strong chin was speckled with new growth. Absolute beauty. But what drew my attention most of all were his eyes: wide with innocence and as brilliant and green as the sun-sparkling meadow itself. How fitting. He frustrated me by closing them so that he could fully revel in the day, the quiet life and peace of the woods. He smiled slightly. Did he love the forest as much as I? Could he belong here with me?
For the first time, a shock like pleasurable lightening struck and coursed through me again and again, finding no way out. The only relief came when I stared at my hunter. My dismay wavered until I abdicated it, leaving. it behind completely. I was overwrought with a kindled inspiration, as though I had long known him though I had no rightful claim to fancy such an untoward impression. I doubted whether he could be of any threat to me as welcoming as he was to my world. The ridiculous urge to touch him baffled and frightened me. Yet these were shoved aside to welcome the growing happiness that bloomed in my heart and devoured all else…even my sense of survival. The desire to reveal my true appearance and fall at his feet, giving myself to him ruled over my every thought and hope like a ruthless king. Besides, how evil could he be, unattended and received by my wildwood without challenge? I no longer cared for anything but to see my wish through. All else was of trifling significance.
Before I could make the attempt, he softly padded to the edge of the spring and bent over the pebbles to brush the cool water. After satisfying his thirst, he stroked his neck to dull his skin from the glancing rays of the sun. My heart drummed rapidly and a blistering flame seemed to roar and consume my very bark without mercy. But there was no pain, not yet. For now, it enchanted me.
Not realizing I was no tree at all, the man sighed and leaned casually against my trunk, full of ease. Feeling his body against mine was more than I could withstand. The burning and craving to keep him for myself wailed at me, refusing to be forgotten—I needed to be seen by him. And so, my restraint and discretion fragmented as my form faded. The leaves and laurels about my head curled into blonde hair without mindfully commanding it. I melted nearer to the ground, my branches and trunk weakened and narrowed into separate limbs, submitting to my hope. I was a nymph once more by the time I entwined my arms about the young man’s waist and leaned my head against his shoulder, anticipating him not to distinguish the difference. Feeling his strength and his warmth was beyond any other kind of heaven I could have ever hoped for, ever imagined. Yet all too short-lived, for once he felt me change from behind and conform to his position like a veil; he gasped and leapt away from me, easily breaking my hold. He reached for his bow in the same motion, agilely stringing it with a deadly tipped arrow but hesitated to release it. Somehow, the fear could only thwart my need to touch him rather than convince me to flee.
Mouth hanging open, his eyes widened with startled confusion, then they searched above for the vanished boughs that were once my head before turning his sight directly upon me. I prayed his aggressive reaction was due more to disbelief than aversion. I rose to my feet to smooth my satin gown, abashed by my inappropriate behavior. We stood anchored to the grass, gaping at each other for what seemed a lifetime. Then, he began to tremble so violently that his weapons clicked together, breaking the silence. I could not care about my own life when he needed comforting. I stepped toward him slowly, arm outstretched. He took a step of his own, but backward. He fortified his hold on the bow as his chest burgeoned back and forth with his distressed breathing. I risked gliding near enough to grasp the arrow but I ignored it. He stood his ground and flinched a little as I indulged my need to touch his arm, a summery tingle ebbed between us and engulfed my heart.
“W-What are you?” he choked.
“Daphne…a nymph,” I whispered, understanding his question too late.
“A…what?” A tremor ripped through his voice.
“A nymph,” I answered a little louder, hurt by the doubt and fright clouding the emerald orb of his eyes which then proceeded to glaze over briefly as he contemplated the likelihood of my words. They flashed back to me with a hint of ferocity.
“Why are you here? What do you want?”
“I waken the Spring. Help the forest grow. That—that is my duty.” Like an inward blow across the face, his ireful tone inflamed the instinct to mend my wounded dignity. "This is my home, sire. Why have you come here? You invade, not I."