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Afterwards Phil isn’t sure why exactly he had set out to the forest. It was like a stir in his stomach, an aching in his lungs like a dream he forgot he had pulling him out there. It wasn’t hard to evade his parents, they didn’t pay much attention at the moment anyway, being too busy with their studies, with their responsibilities. And of the guards, no one questioned anything.
If the lord, youngest son of Duke Lester, said he would set out and be back by noon it was like that very much. Noone stopped him.
It wasn’t until far later, when he stepped onto that clearing and sat down on the fallen tree trunk, that he started to question if this was a good idea at all.
He had barely sat down and opened his little rucksack when he heard something shuffle though the high grass next to his feet.
With a yelp he fell backwards off the trunk.
“Watcha got there lad?” a voice asked.
Confused Phil looks around until he sees the small figure, standing next to his legs on the tree trunk.
It’s humanoid, almost, but only about as tall as Phil’s knee. Or, as tall as a normal person’s knee since Phil is too tall and lanky for his own good.
“A snack?” Phil answers.
“Oh, I love snacks,” the creature says with a sigh.
“Oh, do you want some?” Phil offers as he picks himself off the ground.
They sit down next to each other and Phil shares half his sandwich with it.
The creature basically inhales the sandwich in two bites, giving Phil a strange look now. “That’s mine too,” it says pointing at Phil’s half.
“No, it’s not,” Phil answers, trying to stop his amusement from showing.
“Yes, it is,” the creature says, nodding wistfully. “My forest, my sandwich.”
Phil lets out a laugh and gives the sandwich away.
After it disappears into the creature as well, he picks up his rucksack, intending to leave. He’s not sure where to go but the feeling he had this morning is becoming stronger again.
“Not so fast,” the creature says, standing up as well. It’s not even as tall as Phil’s hip, even while standing on the trunk. “That bag, that’s mine as well.”
Phil takes a step back, hand over his bag. “No, that’s certainly mine.”
“Nuh-uh,” the creature says, getting out a dagger. It’s tiny as well, but it looks pointy and rather sharp. “My forest, my bag,” it says, pointing the dagger at Phil.
Phil gulps, thinking about what to do since he doesn’t have a weapon. He wonders if he can use the rucksack as some kind of weapon and just run, as a new voice chimes in.
“Your forest?” someone says. It sounds humoured, almost sarcastic.
Phil whips around and sees a young man approaching, taking long strides across the opening. He is tall, maybe even taller than Phil is, with dark curls framing his face, hiding part of his face.
“Last time I checked this forest belonged to the shire,” the man quips. “And it’s enough that they’re bleeding the people dry, no need for you to do it too.”
“You,” the creature cries, throwing an accusing finger at the man. “You stay out of this!”
The man produces a sharp whistle, not letting his eyes away from the small creature.
A low woof sounds, making it jump. Behind the man a black dog leaps out of the forest, closing in with fastening speed.
“Argh!” the creature lets out, falling off the trunk in fright.
The dog comes to a halt just in front of said trunk, taking a look over it and panting happily.
“You,” the creature cries, holding out it’s little dagger in front of it. “You get away from me monster!”
Awoof? the dog says, and the creature breaks into a sprint, disappearing into the undergrowth of the surrounding forest.
The man lets out a cackle, standing right next to Phil now. His laugh is radiant. It deepens the dimples in his cheeks even more.
“Good job, Sir,” he says to the dog, giving it a pat as it returns, tail wagging happily. The dog answers with a bark, but Phil still just stares at the stranger.
With a slight blush he turns to Phil now, eying him up and down. “And who are you?”
Phil straightens up a little, painfully aware of the grass stains on his fine trousers and the fact that his hair is a mess after falling off the trunk.
“I’m Phil,” he says, and without a pause he adds: “Why do you address your dog with Sir?”
The man stares at him as if he just said something stupid. “Because that’s his name,” he explains. “And I’m Dan. Nice to meet you.”
“Why are you out in the forest?” Phil asks, partially out of curiosity, partially because he wants their conversation to go on.
“I could ask you the same,” Dan answers, raising his chin a little as in protest.
“I asked first,” Phil retorts.
For a moment they eye each other. Phil isn’t sure how to explain why he left his estate for this forest when he never even leaves it as much as for the city. Or the garden, really.
A hint of realisation sparks behind Dan’s eyes. He takes a step back.
“You don’t happen to be Phil Lester?” he asks, voice careful now.
“I do?” Phil says, but it sounds like a question. “I mean, I am. Phil. That’s who I am.”
An emotion flashes across Dan’s face. It’s fear, maybe. But immediately sealed away by a mask of indifference. “In that case,” Dan says, drawing out each word. “I was definitely not hunting out here, in your parent’s forest. I would never.”
As if this would make it more sincere, he takes his right hand to his chest, hiding his left behind his back.
“Is that a crossbow?” Phil asks, leaning slightly sidewards.
“It’s not,” Dan answers, unmoving.
A gust of strong wind runs across the clearing. They both get showered in brown leaves and probably a lot of insects, but Phil doesn’t even think about it, because just now the wind lifted the fringe that was hiding Dan’s face before. And against all efforts to keep it down it revealed the second half of his face, prior unknown.
Bright spots of skin draw themselves from his jaw, just under the ear, to the side of his eyes and even his cheekbone.
Dan flattens the fringe frantically, even letting go of the crossbow that thumbs down in the grass.
The dog, Sir, watches them curiously.
“Can we pretend you never saw that?” Dan asks and Phil isn’t sure if he meant his skin or the crossbow.
His shoulders are hunched, knees buckling, head facing away in the stance of a person that has been faced with harsh stigmatization for something they weren’t in charge of.
But Phil thinks it’s gorgeous, that it looks like sunshine falling through a dense forest, painting leaves all over his skin. He wishes he could see it again.
“Shut up he never said that!” Dan yells so suddenly that it makes Phil jump, staring at the sky angrily. Sir only wags his tail slowly, as if this is something that happens regularly.
“Uh, Dan? Who are you talking to?” Phil asks, carefully.
“Noone,” Dan says, giving the sky another dark look. “Anyway, I really need to get going- “ He is interrupted by an arrow, flying through between them.
Far too close to either of them, for Dan’s liking. He turns around and realises, it’s not an arrow. It’s a very tiny spear.
“Uhm,” Dan says, looking among the rows and rows of tiny eyes, glinting from beyond the forest’s border. He hears the animated chatter, and a familiar voice yelling. “That’s them! Get the bag!”
“We should run,” Dan states and Phil finds himself nodding.
Then they break into a run.
It’s surprisingly easy to navigate the forest, once you get the hang of it, Phil thinks as he avoids a low hanging branch.
They are sprinting through the undergrowth like it’s nothing, Sir the dog (Phil thinks it’s an hilarious name, actually) breaking through the undergrowth in front of them and letting out a bark every now and then.
Phil wants to ask: “Do you have any idea where we are going?”
“Yes, totally,” Dan yells back. “Maybe just give them the bag though?”
Phil sighs, mentally going through the stuff he put in the bag and evaluating whether or not it’s worth getting killed by tiny forest spirits for.
“Phil,” Dan says, this time more urgently.
“Okay, okay!” Phil yells, dramatically. With as much momentum as he can muster, he throws the bag over his shoulder. Cheers erupt behind them and the voices grow smaller as they keep running.
Finally, they come to a halt. The forest around them got darker Phil thinks, the floor is covered in pine needles.
“Where are we?” he asks, but just as he says it, the soil beneath his boots just gives in, having him loose balance.
“What do you mean?” Dan cries out in frustration, looking towards the sky. “He hasn’t even- “
But again, he is interrupted, as Phil grabs him for balance, and they both crash through the floor.
“Rude,” Dan coughs.
He can’t move because Phil has landed right on top of him, so he turns his head away as much as possible, the movement exposing the other side of his face again.
“That wasn’t on purpose," Phil pouts. He tries to find balance to lift himself up and off of Dan again.
“I didn’t mean you,” Dan sighs. Then he eyes Phil in a mixture of suspicion and worry. “Are you alright?”
Phil blushes as their eyes meet. Down here, without the direct sunlight, Dan’s eyes seem darker. Sadder as well.
The patches of light skin catch Phil’s eye again and he stops moving.
Maybe it’s inappropriate to ask, but he can’t stop himself. He says: “How did your skin… why is it?”
Suddenly Dan avoids looking at him, bringing one hand up as if to shield his face. “Was born with it,” he mutters. “Could you get up now?”
Face red Phil follows the request, sitting up and looking around. They are in some kind of cellar, old and full of dirt. From above sunlight falls through the hole that opened beneath them.
Through the hole Phil can see the dog, scurrying around, barking and whining for his human friend.
“No, Sir, get back,” Dan yells up waving his arms. “Away, sit! Stay!”
The dog answers with a whine but disappears afterwards, probably to wait somewhere.
As Dan dusts off his clothes Phil takes another opportunity to look at him. “I didn’t mean,” he starts but his sentence trails of. He starts again: “I didn’t mean to offend you. With my question. My apologies.”
Dan doesn’t look at him. “Whatever,” he says, taking in the room. “Let’s get out of here. Come on.”
In lack of any other option Phil follows him.
They reach a small archway that probably leads somewhere. It’s darker without sunlight but Phil decides to trust in whatever Dan is doing. Chances are good he knows his way around the forest.
“Why are you out in the forest?” he asks, more out of curiosity.
“I live here,” Dan answers. He doesn’t look back; he just keeps on walking.
“Why don’t you live in the city?” Phil wonders, ducking underneath a spider web.
“Used to,” Dan sighs. He begins to feel calmer again, slowing down to make sure Phil tags along. “Too many people, really. I’m not a people person.”
“Maybe because you’re so rude,” Phil says. It sounds so genuine that Dan stops in surprise, turning around.
Phil walks right into him, not having expected the stop, and Dan almost loses his balance.
Again, they stand very close, noses almost touching. They can barely see each other in the complete darkness.
Phil grins. A stupid little grin with his tongue between his teeth and Dan feels his stomach doing a backflip.
He is glad the darkness hides his blush.
“You twat,” he breathes.
Phil lets out a laugh.
“Maybe I should visit you again,” he muses, not sure where he takes the confidence from. “I don’t like people either.”
“You’re always welcome in my small hut in the woods,” Dan says and even though it was meant to come out sarcastic he realises that he means it. “We should probably, uhm,” He motions over his shoulder and even though Phil can barely see it they walk on.
The corridor is maybe 20 meter long, then they reach a door that Dan opens easily.
He blinks against the sudden brightness and looks around, finding to his relief that he knows the part of the forest. He lets out a sharp whistle again, hopefully letting Sir know his position.
“Oh, I know where we are,” Phil says now.
Dan gives him a questioning look.
“The city is just over there,” Phil explains. Then he looks down at himself. The fine clothes covered in dirt, his face smudged and hair grey instead of blonde.
Dan definitely doesn’t look better.
He gives the sky another dark look but says nothing. His face is enough to transfer the message.
“I should get back, before anyone worries what I’m up to,” Phil says.
They stand very close again. He can feel Phil’s breath on his skin, blushing underneath the layers of dirt.
“You’re always welcome, if you want to visit the forest again,” Dan gets out. His voice sounds hoarse even in his own ears.
Phil leans forward, quickly, in a blink and you miss it fashion, and their lips touch for a short moment.
It’s enough to make Dan forget who he is.
Phil draws back, a glitter in his eyes Dan didn’t see before. “I’d hope so,” he smiles. “You’ll find me tomorrow.”
“Don’t you mean I’ll find you?” Dan asks. His brain feels foggy, he can’t stop the smile on his face.
Phil laughs again. “No, I’m always lost,” he explains. “But I’m sure you’ll find me again.”