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You know a hare won't be enough, the voice whispered in Sadb's ear, lover-close, as she pulled the dead rabbit free of the thorny vines that had entangled it, the vines shifting and uncoiling like a living thing by her command. Sadb grit her teeth. The fae didn't have to remind her. It had been months since a person had visited her house of thorns, and she could feel the fae growing restless, dissatisfied with animal tributes and her own meager blood offerings. The thorns were growing thirsty.
"You said animal was enough."
I did, the fae answered, but I've grown bored.
Sadb felt like throwing the rabbit, if there was anything to throw it at--and if it wouldn't damage the pelt. Instead, she just held it by the ears and headed, stiff-backed, outside, the vines parting as she walked to allow her passage as she traveled through the labyrinth of her creation. "Bored, hm?"
Yes. You're boring. You've been very boring lately. Sometimes, it was easy to forget the fae was ancient and dangerous when she took such a petulant tone. You haven't visited any villages in aaages! And no one's come to visit us! Animal just isn't the same. It's not as rich. If you don't snare a human soon, you may soon be snared instead.
And the vines closed in around Sadb then, swinging down to block her passage and pressing in until she could feel the prick of thorns through her clothes. And though Sadb's breath caught, her heart leaping as a chill went through her, she swallowed down her fear and made a point of rolling her eyes. Fae were like animals; they smelled fear.
"Don't be so dramatic. I get it, trust me," she said, and with a flick of her hand the vines receded and she ducked on through the passage and into the bright light of day. "You need to learn a little patience, you know."
I've been patient, and it's been months, the fae pouted. I want human this month. And this month I will get it. And then, just like that, Sadb felt it as the fae receded from her mind and went off to wherever it was she went, leaving her, for a moment at least, in peace.
With a relieved sigh, to have her mind to herself, Sadb went to her fire pit--which was empty--and sat down beside it where she could work on gutting and skinning and cooking the rabbit. Its fur had gotten a little too damaged from the thorns to be worth salvaging, she found, but its meat would still be good. About the one good thing about the fae was she never hungered; her thorns sprouted blossoms, and the sweet smell attracted animals. There was never a shortage of beasts killed in the vines.
And as she worked, she found the rabbit was, like all other creatures killed there, bloodless.
Even though she had grown accustomed to it, it was still as eerie as the first time she'd realized it.
With the animal skinned and gutted, Sadb rose to her feet and walked the short distance to the stream to clean her knife and hands, her fingers growing numb against the cold water. It was a beautiful day, the wind constant but not so biting, the sun warm, the land rich and green. And yet, here she was. Just another day nursing a bloodthirsty fae.
Just another day both hoping for another person to come on by, and wishing they would stay away.
