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- Joined
- Oct 7, 2025
- Messages
- 2
Lumielle didn’t know where she was at first. She hadn’t dreamt, and a dark void clung to her mind for a few disorienting seconds as she lay still as a stone, just awake enough to hear the shuffling of leaves and water trickling somewhere near. It was peaceful, in that not-yet-awake state. She felt the firm, smooth material she laid on, and spread her fingertips against it, feeling its surface curve downward on either side.
Her eyes snapped open at a new sound, a hissing gasp directly below where she lay. She frowned, eyes forced to focus on the leaves above, a canopy of warm colors both soothing and familiar. She held her breath and twisted, straining for silence, gripping the smooth branch she’d been sleeping on. Her gaze fell to the man on the ground. The sight yanked away the last whispers of sleep, and with it the haze that had blocked the memory of the past few days.
She had never felt the need to hurry back after a trip to the human world. None that she could recall, anyway. The place held danger, yes, but it had never been particularly threatening.
This last outing had been different the moment her feet touched the mortal soil. In that first shallow breath after the crossing, she found herself frozen. The silence of the deserted park made her senses stretch, searching. The crescent moon radiated none of its usual comfort.
She had taken a roundabout path to Liora’s, her normal meandering pace gone in hopes the strangeness would not follow to her friend's doorstep. The following days appeared normal, but the unwelcome tension persisted. How many times had she abruptly turned, trying to catch… what, exactly? Each time a reaction to something she couldn’t name. A shadow that quickened her pulse.
When she returned, the sounds and smells of the wilds were a palpable relief. Lumielle hurried to her favorite surface-level grove, a secluded spot not well known by other nearby residents.
Or, so she initially thought.
Upon reaching it she’d sagged against the largest tree, eyes closed, chest rising with deep breaths. Her shoulders loosened and hands reached up for a slow, slow, stretch followed by a slow, slow, yawn. She felt relaxed enough to even unfurl her wings and give them some air.
It felt like the natural thing to do would be to rest before heading all the way home.
It only took a bit of fluttering and Lumielle was overlooking the little grove from her most favorite tree. An ancient thing with large branches and abundant leaves - perfect for secret naps.
She was quickly lulled to sleep, blanketed by the whispering breeze.
Which brings her to the situation at hand, slightly groggy and disturbed by the arrival of the man on the ground.
She recognized him though she didn’t know his name. The fae had observed this wolf numerous times before. Most often by himself. A few times she’d walked past him near the crossing. Was he the only wolf who went there?
She couldn’t help but take notice how he stood apart from the rest of the local pack. It was subtle, and if asked she wouldn’t know how to describe it. The deep parts of her, the magic she barely used, sensed… something.
It turned out this wolf who liked to be alone had also discovered the same lovely grove. Lumielle found herself occasionally, unintentionally, spying on this wolf when their jaunts overlapped. If she was already there, frequently up in a tree, when his steps startled her, she’d be basically trapped until he left.
Unless, of course, she compressed her form to its tiny size. A size that made slipping away a simple matter.
So that’s exactly what she did - most of the time.
When she saw him coming from a distance, making a quick escape was the easy choice. Only a few times had she been surprised and he’d suddenly been close enough to really observe. Close enough to see his hands clenched into fists and his shoulders rigid.
Lumielle knew how to be quiet. Patient. How to be still like the great beautiful stones of the glade and listen. Let the world soak into her skin. She’d wondered if he knew she was there on these occasions, but her knowledge of werewolves was general at best. Lumielle suspected he sensed her, but saw no reason to confront a fae who posed no direct threat.
She’d never stayed long, of course. Unwilling to stray towards intrusion.
Now, waking up to him closer than ever, Lumielle couldn’t move. Not when he was in distress. Not when both curiosity and concern rooted her in place.
Was he hurt? Could she even help?
She blinked down at his form, the breeze blowing a few teal strands of hair to hang loose besides her head.
Silent as a cat, she fully turned to lay her front along the branch. It was no effort for the fae to hang a little off the side, cheek against the back of her hand as she peered down. She was directly above him, and felt no fear (perhaps naively so) - save the fear of spooking him.
Lumielle let her voice float down, soft and gentle. The touch of a feather.
“... Are you in pain, wolf?”
Her eyes snapped open at a new sound, a hissing gasp directly below where she lay. She frowned, eyes forced to focus on the leaves above, a canopy of warm colors both soothing and familiar. She held her breath and twisted, straining for silence, gripping the smooth branch she’d been sleeping on. Her gaze fell to the man on the ground. The sight yanked away the last whispers of sleep, and with it the haze that had blocked the memory of the past few days.
She had never felt the need to hurry back after a trip to the human world. None that she could recall, anyway. The place held danger, yes, but it had never been particularly threatening.
This last outing had been different the moment her feet touched the mortal soil. In that first shallow breath after the crossing, she found herself frozen. The silence of the deserted park made her senses stretch, searching. The crescent moon radiated none of its usual comfort.
She had taken a roundabout path to Liora’s, her normal meandering pace gone in hopes the strangeness would not follow to her friend's doorstep. The following days appeared normal, but the unwelcome tension persisted. How many times had she abruptly turned, trying to catch… what, exactly? Each time a reaction to something she couldn’t name. A shadow that quickened her pulse.
When she returned, the sounds and smells of the wilds were a palpable relief. Lumielle hurried to her favorite surface-level grove, a secluded spot not well known by other nearby residents.
Or, so she initially thought.
Upon reaching it she’d sagged against the largest tree, eyes closed, chest rising with deep breaths. Her shoulders loosened and hands reached up for a slow, slow, stretch followed by a slow, slow, yawn. She felt relaxed enough to even unfurl her wings and give them some air.
It felt like the natural thing to do would be to rest before heading all the way home.
It only took a bit of fluttering and Lumielle was overlooking the little grove from her most favorite tree. An ancient thing with large branches and abundant leaves - perfect for secret naps.
She was quickly lulled to sleep, blanketed by the whispering breeze.
Which brings her to the situation at hand, slightly groggy and disturbed by the arrival of the man on the ground.
She recognized him though she didn’t know his name. The fae had observed this wolf numerous times before. Most often by himself. A few times she’d walked past him near the crossing. Was he the only wolf who went there?
She couldn’t help but take notice how he stood apart from the rest of the local pack. It was subtle, and if asked she wouldn’t know how to describe it. The deep parts of her, the magic she barely used, sensed… something.
It turned out this wolf who liked to be alone had also discovered the same lovely grove. Lumielle found herself occasionally, unintentionally, spying on this wolf when their jaunts overlapped. If she was already there, frequently up in a tree, when his steps startled her, she’d be basically trapped until he left.
Unless, of course, she compressed her form to its tiny size. A size that made slipping away a simple matter.
So that’s exactly what she did - most of the time.
When she saw him coming from a distance, making a quick escape was the easy choice. Only a few times had she been surprised and he’d suddenly been close enough to really observe. Close enough to see his hands clenched into fists and his shoulders rigid.
Lumielle knew how to be quiet. Patient. How to be still like the great beautiful stones of the glade and listen. Let the world soak into her skin. She’d wondered if he knew she was there on these occasions, but her knowledge of werewolves was general at best. Lumielle suspected he sensed her, but saw no reason to confront a fae who posed no direct threat.
She’d never stayed long, of course. Unwilling to stray towards intrusion.
Now, waking up to him closer than ever, Lumielle couldn’t move. Not when he was in distress. Not when both curiosity and concern rooted her in place.
Was he hurt? Could she even help?
She blinked down at his form, the breeze blowing a few teal strands of hair to hang loose besides her head.
Silent as a cat, she fully turned to lay her front along the branch. It was no effort for the fae to hang a little off the side, cheek against the back of her hand as she peered down. She was directly above him, and felt no fear (perhaps naively so) - save the fear of spooking him.
Lumielle let her voice float down, soft and gentle. The touch of a feather.
“... Are you in pain, wolf?”
