When Ashara and Eolande made camp the sun had set and the full moon lit their small patch of forest. They had decided not to make a fire, so they would not be spotted from a distance.

Eolande had went to gather berries, leaving Ashara alone. She didn’t talk much, but then, I didn’t pry, when perhaps I should have. Ashara leaned back from her perch on a fallen log, looking at the bright moon above her and the stars that sparkled around it. It feels nice to be alone. Just for a while. Ashara smiled, a laugh spilled out of her, and her cheeks bloomed like silver roses.

The peace brought silence with it. Ashara languished in the quiet night air, until her breathing evened, and her eyes fluttered shut, like moths on moonbeams.

Ashara stood outside a grey stone castle. Star’s were just beginning to appear in the dark blue sky. I know this place. Her feet led her past the open gate, past the unaware guards, and into the inner courtyard. Ashara looked around, in awe at the humans as they prepared for the evening, shaking the days dust from themselves. I remember how awed I was at this place. How this castle and the Summer palace in the heart of the Summerlands were so alike.

Ashara let her feet lead her around the different buildings, made from wood. There were a few women, standing at a well, off to one side. They took turns gathering water before leaving in pairs. One of them turned back to look at her. Ashara waved. The girl waved back, before being pulled along by her companion.

Ashara kept looking around, the outer walls rose high above her, but the stone keep, cast on a hill above the small town, rose higher still. The turret’s of the keep seemed to peirce the night sky, sharp and wicked as they were.

She looked at the other buildings surrounding the hill. Most of their windows were dark, unlit by candlelight, their occupants fast asleep. A loud clanging made Ashara whip her head to the side. A building, closer to the hill the keep was nestled on than the others, made from stone with a wood roof. It was lit by a lantern. The door propped open.

I remember that building.

Ashara’s heart thumped louder with each step. The dirt strewn cobblestones made her bare feet ache. Her feet carried her to the door. Her hands gripped one of the slats, accidentally grazing the iron bar that came across it. Ashara yelped, holding onto the burnt spot on her hand and falling backwards.

“I forgot that this realm is plagued with iron… and that I’m now unable to touch it.” I remember this moment. It was my first moment as a true fae. It was one of the best and worst moments of my life.

Something inside the barn shuffled, making the horses whinny, followed by a shushing noise. A pale hand gripped the doorway, swinging it open. A lantern illuminated the soft, round features of what must have been a stable hand. Kind dark eyes, set into a pale, round face. Dark, lankey hair, just reaching the boys’ shoulders. A worried, full lipped mouth, turned down.

He wore a pale, loose linen tunic, belted with a strip of cloth that held up his pants. On his feet he wore a pair of tan boots, held closed with s twine string at the side.

George…

Ashara gasped, pressing her wounded hand to her mouth. His dark eyes looked where she lay, sprawled in the darkness. “Hello? Is anyone there?” Ashara stood, brushing the dirt off of her dark blue dress. George lifted the lantern higher, illuminating Ashara.

She stepped forward, watching him take his eyes over her. He jumped, dropping the lantern in his hand and swearing. Ashara coughed demurely. “Y-you’re a good neighbor,” he said, trembling.

“Not exactly…” Ashara bit her lip, looking to the side.

George’s eyes crinkled as he asked “What do you mean, ‘not exactly’? You have pointed ears and you look just like them!” Ashara rolled her eyes watching the human back up, into the barn. She matched him step for step. The scent of freshly put down hay made her smile.

Clasping her hands in front of her, Ashara said “The elves and faeries are not one and the same.” George raised his hands, casting them out in front of him, as though that would ward her off. Ashara laughed, making him flinch. “I mean you no harm this day, mortal pet. Nor could I inflict any besides scaring you.”

“What are you, then, if not a fae- Good Neighbor? Are you a… what did you say… an elf?” He lowered his hands, dropping them at his sides. Ashara grins. It took so long for him to trust me. She nods. “I’m not a faerie- yet.” George’s brow crinkled in confusion.

“Yet?” his voice is curious. His lips part and his eyes dart down to the hay covered floor before looking back into Ashara’s smiling eyes. “Are all humans this curious about my kind?”

“I don’t think so… I’d wager most of them are too afraid to ask any questions, and if they are, they’re mostly greedy ones.” George rolled his shoulders, smiling. Ashara nodded. He was- is different. He is different than most humans.

“I’m not a faerie yet because I was born an elf and new faeries need to be made unless they’re born of two faeries that have their wings and Awakening marks.” I remember regretting it even as the words were leaving my mouth, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. He was honest and gentle when everyone else around me since I was abandoned in the Summer court was deceptive and looking out for themselves.

Ashara blushed, looking down, and bit her lip. She found George looking at her, a strange expression on his face. As if thinking better of it, he shook his head, looking away.

“Ah… Do you like… uh… horses?? George’s eyes darted around, finally coming to rest on Ashara’s eyes. Ashara snorted, nodding.

“Yes! I’ve enjoyed riding since I could walk! It’s one of the things I’ve found joy in since…” Ashara trailed off, unwilling to finish the statement. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. George looked at her, a small smile on his face.

“Would you like to go on a ride with me then, m’lady?” His eyes sparkled with mischief and his grin grew wider. Ashara took his outstretched hand, smiling back at him. He opened the stall door closest to them and stroked the horses white splotched muzzle, talking lowly to it.

George slowly led the horse out of the stall, it’s hooves crunching the layer of soft hay. Ashara waited for the horse to completely exit the stall and calm down a bit before approaching it.

After she stopped in front of it, George standing so close that she could feel the heat rolling off his body in waves, Ashara slowly raised her hand to stroke the horse's muzzle. From the corner of her eye she saw George smile softly at her, nodding at her. She smiled back.

Ashara took a few moments to acclimatize the horse to her scent and coaxing it with gentle expressions. George silently slipped to the side of the stall and retrieved the saddle and bridle. He stroked the horses neck before attaching the saddle, buckling it under the beast's belly. Ashara stepped back, watching George hook the bridle around the horses head, and into its mouth, looping the reins back.

“May I escort you on a midnight ride, m’lady?” George said, his voice playful. Ashara laughed, fighting the urge to roll her eyes at the admittedly handsome mortal. He stepped into the sturrup, swinging a leg over the saddle and climbed on.

Ashara took his hand, climbing into the saddle with practised ease. Her thighs gripped the saddle and she slipped the reigns over her head so George could take them. She turned to look at George, her smile falling when she saw the incredulous look on his face. “You don’t mount like a lady.”

“Some people tell me I was born with two few legs,” Ashara said, smiling. George laughed, smiling back. He flicked the reigns, digging his booted heels into the horses sides.

They left the stables, the night sky sparkling above them. Ashara marveled at the way he handled the horse. He handled it almost as well as a faerie trooper.

The wind whipped through Ashara’s hair, making her laugh. “I take it you don’t get to ride often?” George’s voice came from near her ear. She nodded. Even now I don’t get to ride, except when I snuck away from my lessons. George cracked the reins, making the horses hooves buck against the cobblestones faster. Water splashed up at them, covering them with an unknown slurry.

They rode for so long, through the village and past it’s confines, that the dawn rose from her dreary slumber. Ashara turned to George, her eyes sad.

“I need to get back. The servants will notice if i’m not in my bed.”

George hummed, and tugged on the reins, stopping the snorting horse at the treeline. He slid down from the saddle and held his arms out. “I’ll catch you,” he said. Hardly a minute passed before Ashara jumped into his arms. George set her down on the ground, staring her into her eyes.

Almost with trepidation, her slender hands brushed his high cheekbones, her eyes locked with his, and she rose on tiptoes to kiss him softly on the lips.