Night had consumed the forest by the time they reached the hamlet. 

            Dancing flames washed the small wooden houses in a homey glow. Insects hummed softly in the trees and the melodic babble of a nearby stream accompanied their chorus. A warm, spicy smell floated through the air, causing Cerys stomach to rumble in anticipation and Luvia’s goofy smile told her that she felt the same way. The encircling buildings felt like a sanctuary, protecting them from the trees’ covetous reach.

            Ainsley was now a squirming, squealing mess in his mother’s arms. The four-year-old had wrapped the fallen curls of Luvia’s hair in his fists and was not being subtle about his unhappiness with being kept so long without food. Their best efforts at comfort and redirection had been woefully ineffective against the hungry and tired child. 

            Lucky chuckled at Ainsley’s protests. “A handful you have there.”

            Luvia shot him an apologetic smile, the lamplight igniting in her eyes and bringing out the deep red of her hair. 

            “One we’re happy to bare.” She nuzzled Ainsley’s neck and he let out a high-pitched shriek in response, pulling the helpless curls that were still trapped in his grasp. 

            Lucky led them to a small, white-washed cottage nestled between two towering trees. The home looked comically small, sandwiched between the two massive trunks. He knocked and a frail-looking woman answered after a few moments.

            The older woman took her time taking in the people at her door, allowing her cool gray eyes to rest first on Cerys, then on Luvia where they lingered on Ainsley. The boy had turned his head to take in the new stranger, his curious gaze holding hers. Finally, she shifted her eyes to Lucky. 

            The woman did not greet him. She did not welcome him or ask what he was thinking, knocking at her door so late in the evening. She simply raised one thin, white eyebrow, and waited. 

            “Iris!” Lucky moved to embrace the woman. 

            Next to Iris, Lucky was positively enormous. His body eclipsed her from view as he engulfed her. A spidery, pale hand reached from under his arm to pat him affectionately on the back. When he released her, her face had softened. 

            “This is Cerys, Luvia, and their babe,” Lucky said, pointing a bony finger to each of them in turn. “Got themselves a tad twisted about tryin’ to make their way outta our forest. Figured we’d give ‘em a rest ‘fore I’ ‘em back on track.”

            Iris nodded in silent understanding and Lucky went on.

            “Iris here is one of the best cooks we got! Has some of the warmest rooms and coziest beds. She’ll take ya in, get ya right as rain!”

            Iris nodded again, smiling at Luvia with thin lips and waving her inside. 

            Luvia gave Cerys a quick look, questioning. It wasn’t until Cerys nodded in confirmation that Luvia followed the woman into the cottage. 

            Cerys stepped to follow but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder. 

            “Iris don’t say much,” Lucky’s voice was void of the light joking it usually carried, he spoke softly, almost somber.  “Lost her husband ‘while back, not been the same,” he shook his head. “But!” The hand lifted from her shoulder as he clasped them in front of him, the light back in his voice, “She’s sweet as pie an’ as hospibable as they come! Ya’ll are in good hands.”

            “Thank you,” Cerys said, “truly.”

            “Awe, don’t mention it.” It was difficult to tell in the shifting light, but she thought she saw something flash in the reflection of Lucky’s eyes. Sorrow? 

            “Ya’ll get some rest and I’ll see ya in the mornin’.”

            She bid him goodnight and joined her family in the cottage. 

~~

            Iris’s home was much cozier than what Cerys had expected of someone living in the middle of nowhere. The furniture was sturdy and well-worn, wooden chairs smoothed by years of use clustered around an equally used table. The table stood at an angle as one of the legs appeared to have been broken and repaired many times while another was propped up by a small stack of books.  Cushions covered with red-dyed fabrics stood by, waiting to be needed and a bookshelf sat solitary along one of the walls, its shelves filled with a collection of cloth-bound books. There were gaps between the volumes that Cerys assumed were the homes of the table supports. A fire burned on the far wall of the room, throwing dancing shadows through the space, and enveloping them in its crackling warmth. 

            While Iris tended to a bubbling pot above the fire, Cerys sat at the table with a placated Ainsley. Iris had offered him a biscuit to munch on and Cerys was certain that she was his new favorite person. Luvia had finished putting their few belongings in Iris’s spare room and was poking her way through the book collection. 

            Luvia picked up a thick, dusty blue book, flipping through the yellowed pages, “These illustrations are beautiful,” she turned towards Iris, “Where did you find a copy of ‘Smiths Complete Herbal Almanac’?” she stroked the pages lovingly, “in all my years as a bookseller, I have not come across a copy that was so wonderfully cared for.”

            Iris continued to stir, glancing over her shoulder at the book Luvia was holding, and shrugged her shoulders noncommittedly before turning back to the cooking fire. 

            “Beautiful,” Luvia muttered, placing the tome back on the shelf and picking through the others. “There are a lot of different subjects here, more than your average romance novel,” she picked up a small purple bound book, “metal smithing?” she put the book down, taking a dog-eared light brown book, “Basic medicine?” She repeated the process with nearly every book on the shelf, “The Master Hunters Guide to Skinning? Iris, have you read all of these?”

            Iris grunted without turning around, a slight bend at her neck indicating that she had. “Wow.” Luvia lined up the books, arranging them by height like she always did. “I wish I had that much time to read.” She turned to Iris, smiling at the old woman’s back. “Maybe I’ll have time this week? Do you have one book that you enjoy more than the rest? I would love to borrow it while we’re here.”

            Iris paused, the scrapping of the stirring spoon on the bottom of the pot dying. She released the wooden spoon and turned to face Luvia, the motion of the soup moving the utensil along the circular path behind her. Iris’s face was inquisitive, arched eyebrows asking a silent question: do you really want to know my favorite?

            Luvia heard what was asked, her empathy for others filling in where words could not. “I really would love to borrow one that you recommend.’

            A ghost of a smile appeared on Iris’s face. She moved away from the fire to the bookshelf that Luvia stood beside. She seemed to ponder the leaning books, assessing each one with care before she pulled one free.

            Luvia’s face lit up expectantly, her hands twitching to hold their host’s favorite book. 

            But Iris walked past her, the volume clutched in her hand. She went to the slouched table, crouching next to the short, book-supported leg. With surprising effortlessness, the woman swapped the book out for one of the table’s supporters before placing a steadying hand on the worn tabletop to straighten. She now held a dented muddy-green volume in her frail hand. 

            Iris handed the tired book to Luvia and returned to the boiling soup. Luvia stared wide-eyed at the muddy-green book as though she had been given the greatest gift of all. 

~~

After a dinner of meat and herb soup with biscuits and sweet jam, Cerys and Luvia retreated to their borrowed room. They curled up in a small, but admittedly very comfortable, bed with Ainsley nestled perfectly between them. 

            The room glowed coldly silver from a round window high on the wall, the creaking of trees in the wind and Ainsley’s deep breathing were beginning to lull Cerys into a much-needed sleep. 

            “Ry?”  Luvia whispered, the sweet smell of herbs on her breath tickling Cerys’ nose. “Are you awake?”

            “Merph,” Cerys responded. 

            “Oh good,” Luvia’s warm hand rested on Cerys’s arm. “I can’t sleep. Something doesn’t feel right.” 

            Cerys pushed herself slowly onto her elbow, careful to not jostle Ainsley, and met her wife’s eyes over his head.

“What do you mean?” she asked, knowing that Luvia needed help weeding through her thoughts from time to time. 

Luvia pulled her hand from Cerys’s arm, fisting it to support her head as she picked at the sheets with the other one. 

“I don’t know,” she said after a while, huffing in frustration, “I just… I feel worried, maybe?” she fell silent again, contemplating what she wanted to say next. Cerys waited, fighting off sleep and giving her space to sort out her thoughts. 

“I feel nervous and somehow confident?” her face scrunched, the pale light casting over the lines that appeared on her forehead. “But that doesn’t make any sense.” 

Cerys reached over Ainsley, rubbing her thumb across Luvia’s forehead, smoothing out the lines. 

“It’s ok to feel apprehensive,” she whispered, “we’re in an unfamiliar situation in an unfamiliar place. But we will find our way. Tomorrow is a new day, we’ll get directions and be back on track, I promise.”

Luvia seemed to relax a little at that, she laid her head back down and ran a gentle finger down Ainsley’s sleep-flushed cheek. 

“We’re together,” she said, letting her arm rest across him and closing her eyes. 

“We’re strong,” Cerys assured her, laying down and falling back into the merciful arms of sleep. 

“We’ll find a way,” Luvia finished, the last word stretched by a yawn. 

Next Chapter: The Community