Monday, 27 April 2015

W is for... Wyn



Blogging From A to Z is a blog challenge where participants post a new item every day (except Sundays), where every item relates to the appropriate letter of the alphabet.  You can find out more over at http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com



Rating: PG
Word Count: 463

Wyn ducked behind a stone, both hands pressed to his groin, and wondered just why this always happened to him.  He’d only wanted a pleasant stroll but these blasted ramblers got everywhere and, worse, they made the biggest fusses over nothing.





Wyn ducked behind a stone, both hands pressed to his groin, and wondered just why this always happened to him.  He’d only wanted a pleasant stroll but these blasted ramblers got everywhere and, worse, they made the biggest fusses over nothing.

Voices grew lounder and Wyn shrunk behind his rock, eyes squinted closed with the inevitable terror of discovery and flight.  When they diminished again he allowed himself to relax, to breathe, slumping against the stone with a heavy sigh.

It wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t all their expectations that caused the problems in the first place.  Humans liked their nymphs to be girls: nubile, slender things that they could eyeball while assuring themselves they were only seeing things.  Nymphs like Wyn, healthy, perfectly attractive men, they didn’t get the lecherous eye.  No, they got chased, followed by angry shouts.  The last time someone had seen him, he’d had to spend a week hiding in his pool while strange men in matching dark clothes prodded and poked in every nook and cranny.

Gone were the days when he could be left in peace.

A shifting beside him almost had him leaping from his blue- mottled skin.  “I’m not—!”

Sulien grinned.  “You’re not what?  Streaking?”  His tawny gaze flicked down, then back up as his smile widened.  “Looks like you are to me.”

“Like you can talk,” Wyn retorted, elbowing him.

With a flourish, Sulien produced two leaves, and proffered the smaller of the two, a thumb- sized oak leaf, to Wyn.  “That should be about right, eh?”

“Ha bloody ha.”  Wyn glowered at the dryad until, with a laugh, he let it fall from his fingers and with a simple gesture conjured up a more suitably- sized specimen.  “Thanks.”

“Welcome.”  Sulien carefully placed his own, keeping it up the same way Wyn did: through their innate magic.  It wouldn’t do much to prevent the screams and threats, but every little helped.

“It’s all right for you,” Wyn grumbled, pushing himself away from the rock to stretch and wince.  “You blend in with the trees.”

“Your pond is right there,” Sulien reminded him with a smile.

“Far enough away when someone’s throwing something.”  The memories made him wince all over again.  That time had been particularly unpleasant.  “I don’t know why I bother.”

“Oh, really?”  Sulien’s arm snaked around Wyn’s broad shoulders, drawing him against Sulien’s chest.

Immediately Wyn relaxed, nestling against the dryad’s warm, dry skin.  “Well, maybe I do...”

Soft lips trailed over Wyn’s damp neck; Sulien’s nose nuzzled into the soft, dark curls of his hair.  With each breath, each heartbeat, the air smelled sweeter, of deep, dark forests and the sharp tang of summer rain.  “And that, my love,” Sulien murmured against Wyn’s temple, “is the right answer.”

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