And as they fared through the bountiful forest, with its generous stands and glens and glades and fields, so, too, did other denizens slip through the woodland as well, some running along limbs, others scuttling across the ground, some flying above-birds and animals and wee folk alike, or so Camille did ween. Of huge crofters, Camille had sighted none since yester; nevertheless, she believed that they were about, but chose to remain unseen; mayhap they were shy.
And thus did the grizzled Bear and golden-haired Camille travel and live off the land, eating berries from vines, and grain from the grasses, and vegetables from the loam, as well as fruit from trees. For in the Autumnwood ’twas harvesttime-eternal Camille did think. Still, she wondered whether the fruit and other such ever replaced itself, and if so, then how did it manage the feat, for without winter to rest and spring to renew and summer to ripen, how could harvest continue without all eventually becoming barren?
Ah, but this is Faery, where mystical things are said to occur. I will have to remember to ask Prince Alain about such, assuming that Alain is a bit like his brother Borel, and not some monster instead.-Oh my, I should have asked Borel what Alain was like. Ah, but he and his pack were after that terrible Troll and had no time for my girlish chatter. Oh, but I do hope Borel and his Wolves are safe.
In the eve, when they had camped and Camille’s kindled fire brightly burned, in the darktide beyond the reach of the flickering light she could see eyes glittering and now and again catch a glimpse of movement: foxes and lynx and other night hunters, some, it seemed, with riders astride; too, there were moving glimmers among the trees, somewhat like the dancing lights of the Springwood, though here in the Autumnwood, the gleams seemed to proceed as if in solemn ceremony instead of in carefree joy. As the night wore on, now and again something large with a heavy tread would pass by in the dark unseen, and at these times Camille looked to the Bear, but he appeared unperturbed, and though her heart did beat with excitement, it did not gallop in fear.
Late on the fourth day within the Autumnwood, they came to another looming wall of twilight, and when they passed through the marge they came into the warmth of summer, and there the Bear did change color again, becoming a deep, dark brown.
Then did Camille’s heart race in apprehension when they crossed into this realm, for this was the Summerwood, the demesne of Prince Alain Someone whom I have yet to meet-man or monster or beast or Troll or something else altogether, I know not-yet someone I am pledged to wed.
And deeper into the Summerwood trod the dark brown Bear, a golden-haired slip of a girl on his back.
8
Reveling in the warmth of the Summerwood, Camille shed her cloak and vest, for although evening was drawing nigh, her green-silk jerkin sufficed. Through the duskingtide pressed the Bear, and stars began to dimly shine, growing brighter as he and Camille left the twilight border behind and as night drew down on the land. And a slowly cooling waft of air coiled among verdant trees and bore the fragrances of summer: of grasses and green leaves and mossy loam and oozing sap on the bark of wild cherry trees, of wildflower blossoms and reeds in water and the aromatic foliage of mint. All these and more did Camille distinguish drifting on the air, while crickets sang in the surround, and far-off frogs breek ed, and some thing or things scuttered alongside in the dark.
In the distance ahead, Camille espied the glimmer of a fire, and just as had been in the Springwood, here, too, did a camp await their arrival, this one with a quintet of quail roasting above the flames. Camille ate two of the birds, the Bear the rest, she carefully nipping the meat from the fragile frames, he snapping up his trio and crunching them down, bones and all.
The next dawning, Camille found awaiting a breakfast of scones and tea. And she reveled in this meal, for embedded throughout the biscuitlike pastries were tart, sun-dried fruit nuggets, contrasting with and yet enhancing the honey-sweetened taste of the tea. As she sipped her drink and ate, Camille could hear the Bear off among the nearby trees, snuffling and rolling over deadwood and pouncing on that which he found ’neath.
Grubs, mayhap, or beetles. Camille shuddered, and continued with her own fare.
Finished with breakfast, Camille fetched forth one of her chew-sticks and began cleaning her teeth. Yet now and again she paused and listened, for occasionally she thought she heard a small, piping voice somewhere nigh the Bear, and grunts from the Bear in response; but when she hearkened, the voice spoke not, and when she looked, she saw nought to account for whoever or whatever might be in converse with the Bear.
At last the Bear came padding back, and Camille broke camp as day washed into the sky.
On went the Bear with Camille throughout the Summerwood, the cool, green forest shaded by rustling leaves above, with shafts of golden sunlight streaming down through the gaps between. They crossed warm and bright fields and sunlit glades laden with wild summer flowers, where the air was filled with the drone of bees and the flutter of butterflies, all flitting from blossom to blossom to burrow in or to elegantly sit and sip. Occasionally a lone bee arrowed off into the forest, bearing its precious nectar and pollen treasures to cache in honey-burdened trees, leaving behind the butterflies to continue their vivid dance. And to Camille’s wondering eyes, now and again, among the stir of airborne creatures, she thought she espied tiny, winged beings clad in gossamer green and darting thither and yon, perhaps teasing the butterflies-Sprites? Pixies? Hummingbirds instead? Camille could not be certain, for none flew nigh the treading Bear with the wide-eyed girl on his back.
Down into a river-fed gorge they went, the lucid water sparkling, green sward and willowy thickets adorning its banks. From somewhere ahead Camille could hear a cascade, and soon the Bear trod alongside falls pouring down amid a spray of rainbows into a wide, sunlit pool. And on the opposite shore otters played, a handful or so, sliding down the steep bank and into the glitter of water to disappear under, only to emerge and turn about and race ashore and scamper up to slide down again.
“Oh, Bear, do stop. This water looks warm, and I’ve had nought to bathe in but chill.”
Grunting, the Bear looked at the sun standing nigh the zenith, and halted.
Moments later, Camille glided through the clement, crystalline water toward the play of otters. As she neared, she could hear the chime of laughter, and lo! the moment the otters splashed into the river, Waterfolk they became, with their tiny frames and long fishtail feet and along each side a translucent fin running from wrist to ankle. Their eyes were large and they looked at Camille and then playfully darted between her legs and ’round her back and up between her breasts. One paused before her, and then Camille could see that he was a male… they all were males.
Squealing, Camille fled back toward the shore on which lay her clothes, as Waterfolk swam over and under and about her thrashing legs and flailing arms and ’round her waist and across her bosom, brushing against her most private places and giggling.
Gaining the shore at last, Camille scrambled up the bank and to her clothes, flinging them on in spite of her wetness, while Waterfolk laughed joyously, and swam back to the opposite shore to shift their forms and resume their otter play.
“Bear! Where are you, Bear?” she called, looking about for her absent guardian, furious at the laughter behind.
A grunt came from higher up the embankment, and she saw the Bear sitting amid a patch of brambles eating dewberries, his muzzle stained purplish from the fare. Struggling with her boots, “You could have warned me,” cried Camille, cross with embarrassment.
“ Whuff. ”