Seven: The Savior 

With a disgraceful tumble, Everett makes it to the ground in one piece. He narrowly avoided the rose bush this time, only slightly scratching his upper arm on a few stray thorns. His head throbbed, and for a second, he thought he may have smacked it against the side of the castle, but he knew that not to be true. If it were, he would be bloodied and bruised beyond recognition.  

Lily has made her way to the Elfwoods border, sunbathing momentarily on a flat stone underneath the shade of a tree. Everett would have taken time to admire her bright color if it were not for his aching body and the grumbling gurgles sounding from his chest and throat. He gets to his feet by a miracle, reaching the stone Lily sat on just as she took off for another flight. This time, she ventured deeper into the Elfwoods.  

“Now or never.” Everett gulped.  

As welcoming as the forest seemed to be, Everett hesitated to travel into it. He had stared at it from his window his whole life, wondering what secrets could be inside, but he had never truly stepped foot into it. What if he was not prepared for this? What if the second he stepped into the woods; he would be stuck forever? Swallowed up by the unforgiving flora and eaten by the intimidating fauna.  

But what if none of that happened? What if there was something great, something fantastical that he was missing simply from being afraid? 

“I can do this.” Everett says to himself, not sure if he believed it, even coming out of his own mouth. 

Lily had flown far into the woods now, barely a speck of yellow in the distance. If Everett wished to follow her, he had to do so now. If he waited any longer, the butterfly would be lost from his sight. So, with a pounding heart and clenched fists at his sides, Everett marches straight into the Elfwoods.  

And it was, normal?  

Everett was about fifty paces into the woods now, and he leaned his head back to release a sudden, loud and wicked laughter. This is what he stayed away from for so long? This is what he feared? 

Lily soared ahead, and Everett let loose. He flung his arms out to his sides like a bird, chasing after Lily and laughing and screaming while he did so. He had never felt so free. The wind in his hair, the dirt crunching beneath his feet, the streams he hopped over, the mossy trees he ran his hands across; all of it was straight from his wildest dreams. This was what he thought of when he stared at the Elfwoods. This is what he knew lay inside, and he felt himself stupid for ever being frightful about it. 

What was so dangerous about this?  

A vine seemingly snakes out of nowhere in front of Everett, answering his question and sending him face down into the dirt below him. He gets a mouthful of it, spitting it up dramatically to his side. He glares at the vine, yanking it away from his bleeding ankle. It was thick and embedded with dark brown thorns nearly two inches long. The prince had never seen a vine quite like it.  

He spins around quickly to search for his guiding butterfly, but she is long gone. And then he tries to see the castle from above the dense treetops, but he sees nothing. He scales one of the taller trunks, reaches all the way to the top, but there are no signs of civilization. He could not get back even if he wanted to.  

A snicker comes from the brush, and Everett slides down the trunk, cursing when the bark rubs his palms raw. He was not alone, but maybe whoever was watching him could help. It was pessimistic to think anything alive in the Elfwoods had bad intentions, right? 

“Look what we have here...” A sickly voice calls, and out from the shrub, a diseased-looking man crawls out. Mushrooms of all shapes and colors and sizes sprout from his body, and his eyes are bloodshot red like the biggest mushroom coming straight from his head. Everett presses himself against the bark, feeling his heart race, pounding violently against his rib cage.  

“Stay away from me!” He pats around in the dirt for a stick, a rock, anything to use as a weapon, but the mushroom man is moving too quickly. Even if he did find something in time, it would not be useful.  

“Are you a prince?” The man gurgles.  

“No.” Everett lies through his teeth, and the mushroom man sees right through it.  

“You sure look like one. I’ve never seen anyone in the Fae Woods dress as fancy as you do. Where did you get your clothes from?”  

“These clothes?” Everett allows a desperate chuckle, throwing his head around in hopes that some0ne, something was nearby that could help him. But alas, he saw nothing. “I found them! Yes, that’s what I did.”  

The mushroom man has now drawn eerily close to the prince, and the prince can feel and hear his ragged breathing. It was hot and rancid, and Everett pulls his head away the best he can. Drool drops in thick globs at the mushroom man’s feet, and Everett feels vomit start to make its way up his throat.  

“I bet they cost a fortune...” The mushroom man starts a slow circle around Everett, and only then does he notice the man has a belt wrapped loosely around his waist. A knife made from sharp metal and wood hangs in a little leather strap. “And sell for even more.”  

Everett’s eyes widen, afraid, but an idea swims to the forefront of his mind. The royal garbs... was that all this man wanted? Would he leave him alone if Everett gave them up?  

“Ah, yes. They sure will.” Everett forces a laugh. “How about you take them, and I’ll be on my way?”  

The mushroom man pretends to think about it for a second, ultimately shaking his head.  

“How about I rip them off your body after I’m done with you?” He breathes into Everett’s ear, and a wave of disgust courses through the prince’s body. “I want your bones for my collection.”  

Everett holds his breath, pushing himself further into the bark, as far as he can go until his back is red and bleeding like his palms and his ankle. If only he had stayed curious! The prince closes his eyes, preparing for a gruesome death, a terrible horrible death.  

But it never comes.  

There’s a sudden shuffling, and the mushroom man squeals out in pain.  

Everett’s eyes flick open, widening when he sees the man has slumped over, eyes forced open and mouth agape. An arrow was lodged deeply in the side of his head, and blood gushed from the wound like the swiftness of a river. The sight made Everett feel even sicker than he already did. 

“We meet again.” A husky, familiar voice calls, and a shadowy figure drops gracefully from the trees above. He lets out a little grunt when he lands, his dark boots digging deep into the ground. He retrieves his arrow from the skull of the mushroom man and finally lifts his head so the prince can see.  

But the prince already knew who his savior was.  

“Floryn.” He breaths, relief flooding ever corner, every vein of his body.