Read Online Bigfootloose and Finn Fancy Free by Randy Henderson - Free Book Online Page B

“You’re not on a job, are ya?”
    Sal shook his head. “Iself not on a job. Iself looking for a truefriend.”
    â€œUh huh. Well all right then. I’d best lead you in so you don’t hurt yourselves. Go ahead and just continue down that path there, I’ll follow right behind ya.”
    Sal began striding down the path, and I hurried to catch up.
    The faun trailed behind us, giving occasional directions to walk around a spot in the trail, or to take a side path marked only by a cluster of mushrooms or other subtle marker.
    â€œHad a couple of amateur hunters get so drunk that the glamours and our will-o’-the-wisp didn’t even work on them, they just stumbled right into our steading,” the faun explained as we walked. “So we started putting traps on the paths.”
    â€œIs that where you got the gear?” I asked.
    â€œNaw. Garl, this waerbear friend of mine, he sometimes likes to scare campers and hunters for fun. They leave all kinds of stuff behind.”
    â€œAnd the DFM doesn’t mind Garl’s games, or these traps?” I asked.
    â€œThe Department of Feyblood Mismanagement don’t care what we do long as we ain’t collecting guns or causing them any paperwork.”
    Sounded about right. “My name’s Finn, by the way, and this is Sal.”
    â€œDon,” the faun said. “Don Faun. And yes, my sires hated me.”
    We emerged from the thick patch of forest into a clearing at the river’s edge—a clearing filled with feybloods.
    They stood in a crowd with their backs to us, facing a young woman. Behind her stood a single cedar tree on the riverbank, its branches covered in drooping bunches of needlelike fronds doing a slow dance in the breeze.
    In the crowd of feybloods I spotted a bear, a frog-faced fellow, a jackalope, a wolf, and a fox, a moving pile of dirt and rocks that must be a dwarf, several fauns who didn’t share Don Faun’s clothing appreciation, a couple of river nymphs—and a single sasquatch female. Now, I just had to convince her to return with us to the car, and I could verify with—
    â€œGot some visitors!” Don Faun called out, then tipped his hat at us and disappeared back into the forest.
    All heads turned toward us.
    Great.
    I saw no feyblood likely to have a stone gaze, so I removed the sunglasses and smiled as friendly as I could.
    â€œGreetings, newcomers,” the young woman near the cedar tree called out. Her expression wasn’t nearly as welcoming as her words.
    â€œUh, hi,” I said, and waved, showing my persona ring in the process.
    The bear growled. The dwarf shifted his face of dirt-covered-stone and spat dust in my direction. “Arcana,” he said in a gravelly voice. “Send him swimming in fastwater!”
    Sal put his hand on my shoulder. “This arcana is Iself’s guest, come here for I.”
    â€œThanks,” I said in a low voice.
    Sal grunted, and said, “Do any bad-bright tricks and Iself will be first to tear off youself’s arms.”
    The young woman walked to us as Sal spoke, the crowd parting to let her through. Five-foot-nothing, she looked and moved like a Jazzercise instructor on her day off, her simple movements hinting at a greater strength and grace, her auburn hair chopped short and streaked with traces of green. She was beautiful in a way that wasn’t quite human, as though Boris Vallejo had airbrushed her into reality. She wore a green dress I thought at first was sequined, then realized was made of woven grass, leaves, and pine needles that covered her from neck to knees. The tip of a pale scar could be seen where her neck met her shoulders before it disappeared under her dress.
    â€œI’m called Silene,” she said. “What brings you to my tree?”
    Her tree? Of course. Silene was a dryad, a tree nymph.
    Interesting fact: for the longest time, it was a rite of passage for male arcana to