TW: nothing I think, except for feels.

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It wasn’t that far from the busier part of the city, but when they turned onto a smaller side road, Rosie felt like they were a hundred miles from the shops, offices, and sidewalks of Brulla. Tall trees surrounded the narrow strip of pavement on both sides, towering over the car and creating a canopy. The trees mostly had lavender bark and broad, deep blue leaves, but there were a few scattered through the mini-forest that had black trunks and bone-white needles. The afternoon had been sunny, the Hellish sky a sort of yellowy-pink color, but the light that filtered through the treetops was weaker. Dappled and overlapping circles of light painted the road ahead of them with pale confetti.

“Pull over by that rock,” Zete said, pointing at a large gray boulder by the side of the road. Droya nudged the car into the rust-colored grass, following ruts made by other cars that had done much the same thing in the past.

“It’s a little way into the woods from here, but not far,” Zete said, popping out of the car when Rosie opened her door and spiraling up into the trees.

Droya shot to Rosie’s side as she stepped out of the car, startling her. She watched him as he scanned the trees carefully, his ears twitching slightly as he listened for movement. Rosie could hear wind rustling the trees, and soft road noise from far away. There was some chirping and trilling from the forest, and Rosie wondered about Hellish wildlife. So far in the city, she hadn’t seen much evidence of animals; no pigeons or rats. What did birds look like in Hell?

Droya stayed by her side and slightly ahead as they walked into the trees, following a footpath worn smooth into the dark brown soil. Undergrowth sprung up around the trail, spindly plants with curly leaves, ferns with heart-shaped fronds, and something that looked like an orange palm tree.

Zete twirled and whipped through the air just above their heads, reveling in the place.

“How much farther?” Droya groused.

“Tch. Almost there,” Zete said, annoyed at the man’s bad attitude. This was a happy place.

“It’s so pretty,” Rosie breathed, staring in wonder. “How can this just be hiding in the middle of the city?”

“It’s pixie land,” Zete said. “The city promised it to us. It’s special. They can’t build here.”

“Oh!” Rosie said. “Are you sure it’s okay for us to be here?”

Zete looped through the air and landed on a branch near Rosie’s head.

“Only if you are here with a pixie,” he said smugly, and took off again, zipping ahead of them.

Rosie realized that the footpath must have been made by guests like her, since a pixie would have no need to walk through the woods. She smiled up at the towering trees and let the dim sunshine and thin rays of brightness wash over her. It felt like a special place.

After another minute of walking the winding trail, the trees thinned and a small meadow opened up. The whole area was in a little bit of a depression, and the trees at the edge fanned out over the open area, making it not quite as bright as the city outside the forest. At one end of the field, a huge boulder jutted up out of the ground. It looked like it had once been a dome, but half the dome was completely gone, the broken side a perfectly vertical, smooth, flat, light gray surface. A few yards from the boulder, there were what looked like drums on stands, two of them, side by side.

Zete was standing on one of the drums, and when Rosie and Droya got closer, he held his hands up in the air.

“This is it!” he said.

“You were right, it is not much to look at,” Droya said.

Rosie elbowed him, aghast.

“Really,” she muttered at him, and walked up to Zete’s drum.

“Tell me about this place,” she said.

“No,” Zete said. “I have to show you.”

He flew underneath the drum and tilted it on its stand, until one of the flat sides was pointed at the gray stone wall. He was still for a moment, touching a black circle on the side of the drum, and suddenly a bright beam of light erupted from the drum, aiming at the stone. A huge circle of light brightened the flat surface of the boulder.

Rosie laughed, surprised.

“It’s a spotlight!” she said. “Oh! You said this was a shadow theater!” She clapped her hands, anticipating.

Zete giggled and flew into the beam of light. His shadow took up a huge presence on the wall, and it shrunk as he flew further toward the boulder. The light went right through his wings, so it just looked like he was floating. He did some wiggling dances in the air, spinning and waving his arms dramatically.

Rosie laughed. “You said you tell stories out here?” she called to him.

Zete flew closer, out of the light.

“Yes, old stories and new ones. Come on!”

He waved Rosie over, and she excitedly walked over into the beam of light. She and the pixie arranged themselves until their shadows were the same size on the stone “screen.” They were several feet apart, but acted out a conversation in their shadows, shaking hands and even pretending to hug each other. They both broke down into giggles a few times. Zete flew up, his shadow rising over her shadow, and Rosie pretended to hold him up in the air.

While they played nonsense, Droya stalked the perimeter of the small meadow, inspecting the area for threats. He found nothing, just more aggravating peace and quiet. He ended up standing near the spotlights, keeping his eyes moving on the treeline in an ongoing sweep. But he couldn’t help getting drawn to Rosie’s laugh. The soft warmth of late spring was lulling, and the trees were so damn calming. Droya was having a hard time keeping himself alert. He gradually let himself watch the human and the pixie, and even let himself smile a little.

I like you, and that counts for something.

I hope you’ll see me more as a friend than a client.

The spotlight made her glow. Her hair was dark brown, but in the bright light it shone and flowed like molten bronze. Her soft curves were on full display in her shadow silhouette, and Droya’s heart climbed into his throat at the sound of her laughter. He had tried to dismiss his feelings the night before, laying in her bed, watching her sleep, holding her hand.

I’m just intrigued by the novelty, he had told himself.

A strange human girl, overflowing with extreme joy and deep pain.

She’s just a curiosity, like a two-headed gargoyle or a fancy new car.

Sure, he had teased her at first about sleeping together, and had blatantly showed his interest through undisguised ogling, but that had just been for fun.

It didn’t feel like fun anymore.

It felt terrifying.

Droya watched the human dance in the light and he swallowed thickly. Thinking of her made his chest ache. Seeing her made his hands hungry for touch. His heart pounded so hard he could feel his pulse in his teeth.

Suddenly Rosie was next to him, and she plopped down on the ground near his feet.

“He has so much energy, oh my gosh,” she said, a sheen of sweat on her forehead. Droya sat down next to her.

“I can tell he really loves this place,” she went on, smiling a big, real smile as she watched Zete do acrobatics in the spotlight.

Droya didn’t respond, he just looked at her. The swooping curve of her cheek down from her ears to the tiny cleft in her chin. Her pink lips against pale honey skin.

Rosie turned to look at him and laughed, her hand going to her ribs where the bruise still ached. She looked back at Zete briefly, then back to Droya.

“Well, he’s busy, so I’ll do it,” she said, and smacked Droya on the side of the head.

“Inappropriate,” she said with a grin.

He blinked, surprised.

Oh.

His eyes had betrayed him.

He actually did feel embarrassed this time, and looked away, grumbling an apology. Rosie just chuckled and turned to watch Zete play. They were both quiet for a moment, and a warm breeze swept through the meadow.

“You know,” Rosie said. “I’m not going to break if someone looks at me funny.”

Droya frowned, not sure what she meant.

“I’m stronger than you think,” she said softly. “I appreciate you wanting to do your job, and all, but don’t punish yourself. I know I looked like a mess yesterday, and maybe I am a mess, but it’s not your fault.”

She was looking at him now, her dark eyelashes framing deep brown eyes. Droya was having a hard time reading her mood, but she wasn’t lying.

“Rosie…” he said.

“Hmmm?”

He couldn’t find the words in English.

“You’re so beautiful I can barely stand it,” he said in Hellish. “I can tell you’re strong, stronger than I guessed. There’s so much more to you than I thought. I can’t believe I just met you, because I can hear your voice in my soul when the world is quiet. I want to know you, I want to touch you, comfort you, protect you. I want to be someone you can reach for when you’re sad, like last night, but more. I want to hold you and kiss you and be someone you want. But I don’t know how to be that person. I’ve already failed you once, and I refuse to be one of the people in your life who lets you get hurt. Besides, I don’t even think you see me as an option. You said you like me, but what does that even really mean to you? You said to think of you as more of a friend than a client. So I’ll just keep you safe until you go back to your real life, and hope that I can be a good friend.”

Rosie listened curiously.

“Was that a poem?” she asked after he finished speaking. “It was pretty, for Hellish.”

Droya turned away from her, back to watching Zete’s shadow.

“It was a sort of prayer,” he said in English.

“What does it mean?” Rosie asked.

“Nothing important,” he said, leaning back on his hands and closing his eyes for a moment, breathing in the springtime air.