* * * *
One evening Corry wandered to the lake east of the house. It was an attractive spot, smelling of pine and leaf mold. In one direction a trail ran to the edge of the orange grove, where a break in the palmetto hedge gave a glimpse of the orange trees.
As Corry walked, he thought he heard faint music, like a flute or recorder. He thought it might be coming from the direction of the grove, although it was so faint he could not be sure. Soon after he reached the lake, the music ceased.
Corry paused on the shore, watching the minnows dart. As he squatted, his eyes strayed upward, and he froze. Above his own reflection, he saw a girl’s face.
“Thul tulsa?” he whispered. Corry did not know what the words meant.
This girl was older than he and had a wildness about her that was at once charming and intimidating. Her ears appeared to be pointed, though it was difficult to tell because they were also tufted with long, soft fur around the upper rim. A few locks of her thick hair cascaded over one shoulder, and she wore a delicate chain around her neck that dangled in a sharp V.
After a few seconds Corry reached out to touch the face in the water. Instantly it vanished. He scrambled to his feet, only to find she was already about ten yards away towards the grove.
The girl wasn’t human. Her legs were covered in thick cinnamon fur and ended in split hooves. She wore a long tunic of brown cloth, belted at the waist. Corry was so interested in her hooves that he hardly noticed the rest of her. They were, in fact, deer hooves, as her legs were deer legs. Her skin was about the same color as her fur. For an instant, she remained as still as some delightful painting, one hand gripping the end of the chain about her neck.
At last Corry stepped forward.
The girl whirled with the fluid grace of a wild animal and bounded toward the grove. As she turned, Corry caught a brief glimpse of a six-inch deer tail beneath the flying skirt, snowy underside turned up in alarm. Before he could run four steps, she was beside the break in the palmetto hedge. She hesitated, watching Corry as he raced towards her. Then she turned without a sound and vanished among the trees.
* * * *
The creature was called a faun. Corry found pictures of the mythical beast online. He lay on his bed for a long time that evening, still fully clothed, thinking. Patrick came in and got ready for bed. The lights had been out for five minutes when Corry terrified his roommate by leaping suddenly to his feet. “It means fauness!”
Patrick sat up grumbling, but Corry had already gone into the bathroom and begun getting undressed. “For just a moment,” he muttered, “I was thinking in that other language. Tulsa means lady…or something like it. And thul means fauness.”
About the Author
Abigail Hilton is a traveling nurse anesthetist, based in Florida. She owns 3 cats—all veteran travelers, who’ve been x-rayed on various occasions by the TSA. She has spent time in veterinary school and done graduate work in literature. You can connect with Abbie on Facebook or Twitter. You can also visit her blog and main website at abigailhilton.com.
Books by Abigail Hilton
Hunters Unlucky
Storm
Arcove
Keesha
Teek
Treace
The Prophet of Panamindorah
Fauns and Filinians
Fire and Flood
The Guild of the Cowry Catchers
Embers, Illustrated
Flames, Illustrated
Ashes, Illustrated
Out of the Ashes, Illustrated
Shores Beyond the World, Illustrated
The Complete Series (Not Illustrated)
Eve and Malachi, Illustrated Children’s Chapter Books
Feeding Malachi
Malachi and the Ghost Kitten
Other Books
Crossroads: Short Stories from Panamindorah, Volume 1
Secret Things: Short Stories from Panamindorah, Volume 2
Table of Contents
A Cat Prince Distinguishes Himself
Author’s Note – Cat Prince
Bonus Story: Distraction
Author’s Note – Distraction
Other Books by Abigail Hilton