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Halsin leaned back in his comfortable chair. Borrowing a cabin for the season was a good idea. No pressure… no visitors. Abundant game for hunting, or simply for watching go about their merry winter business. No visitors. A soft, downy snow that hadn’t yet frozen to the ground. No visitors. This was the time of year that a man just wanted to watch icicles drop from the trees, eat whenever he liked, and lounge naked in front of the fire. It was the first in many winters that Halsin felt he wasn’t weighed down by responsibility, or the sad spirits of the past--he could just be here, with his little love. Peaceful.
A crash of falling pans echoed out from the pantry. Annoyed grunts and mutterings. A fat, orange gourd rolled across the pine floor to rest by Halsin’s feet. And right on cue, an angry druid stormed out holding utensils, wearing nothing but an apron covered in flour.
“Halsin!”
“Yes?” A log cracked in the fireplace, and he stretched his clawed feet closer to the warmth.
Pyck inhaled and collected himself. “I seem to be missing some berries from the pantry.”
“Oh.” Right. That. “I may have had something to do with that. Were we… saving them?”
“The tarts, Halsin! My tarts! How can I make berry tarts with only half the berries?”
Of course, Halsin knew the real reason that Pyck was troubled--and it had more to do with the loose, heavy antlers on his brow than the missing berries. “Maybe you only make half as many tarts?”
“Half as--no! And then have you complain that you’re still hungry? Oh, no, no. This is a disaster.” Pyck turned back into the pantry, and Halsin was glad that he’d suggested they not worry about wearing their clothes inside. After all, no visitors.
Pyck looked back over his shoulder. “And stop panicking.”
“I don’t think that I was,” Halsin said. He really had forgotten about the tarts, and he hadn’t meant to make Pyck upset like this. What to do? They needed new ingredients, and more importantly, Pyck needed to knock his antlers loose so he could enjoy himself. “Pyck, there are some junipers growing nearby. The berries should be nice and purple by now. How about a hike? We could use the sunlight.”
He considered this and idly rubbed the base of his antlers. “Juniper… we could cook that rabbit you caught and do meat pies. Yes, this will do nicely. Up, up, up. We’re losing daylight.”
Halsin slid himself out of the cushions, and with a shake, shifted back into the form of an elf. One of them should probably have fingers to hold the basket. A chilly breeze tickled his bare skin, and where were those boots of his?
While he gathered his clothes and shouldered through the doorway, Pyck had already bounded outside and paced delicate hoofprints into the fresh snow. Halsin had seen this before, but--what a beautiful creature he was. Normally taking the form of a slight elf with mossy green hair and natural antlers, the druid’s preferred animal form was that of an elegant deer, with vibrant, chestnut fur and his overgrown antlers curving tall over his head. He made a striking profile against the white and green forest. As Halsin wrapped a knit red scarf around the deer’s fluffy neck, he stole a glance at Pyck’s antlers. Definitely overdue to shed, but even knowing they would grow back in the spring, the young man was hesitant to let go.
Pyck huffed impatiently when he noticed Halsin gawking. The proud little thing knew he looked excellent, and were he not so worked up he would have taken a moment to preen. He dashed off through the spruce and pine.
“Don’t get too far ahead,” Halsin called. Even though their cabin felt remote, they were just far enough from civilization that game hunters might be an issue. All the more reason for Pyck to get his shed over with. Unaccustomed to worrying about, well, anything, Pyck ignored him and trotted in circles around the icy trees, doubling back and then racing off again, stretching his legs and enjoying the cool air and inviting smell of the conifers. He wasn’t even going in the direction of the juniper trees.
Halsin soon lost track of their task himself, distracted by good firewood on the ground or little red cardinals overhead. After what felt like just a moment, he realized he could no longer hear the deer running through the trees. He turned his head to listen, and noticed something unusual in the snow.
Footprints, but… melted. More than melted, the grass itself was singed, like something hot had been dropped in the snow. Some sort of magical boots? He saw two sets of footprints, including the singed ones. Either someone else was after their junipers, or he needed to find Pyck before he ended up on the wrong side of a hunter’s crossbow.
Hanging a basket on a tree limb, he shifted into the form of a bear and started following the footprints. Under normal circumstances, they would leave game hunters undisturbed--there was nothing wrong with a hunt, so long as the hunters remained respectful of their quarry. But, in this case, Halsin just needed to warn them that there were druids camping in the area, and perhaps frighten them away if they couldn’t find somewhere else to go for the day.
Halsin became concerned--very concerned--when he heard Pyck’s voice approaching, shouting indiscernibly. If he had shifted back already, had he been hit and forced out of his wildshape?
“Myyyyyyy--” His voice grew closer and louder.
“Raaaaaaack!”
Pyck appeared through the trees, wearing what clothes he had managed to grab on the way out of the door. He sadly held his grand antlers in his hands. Two pulpy stumps were left on the top of his head. Halsin almost laughed. He must feel much lighter with that weight gone. And, in the spring, they would grow back even larger, as the young stag was barely finished growing.
“Also, there’s hunters, I guess,” Pyck said.
They started back towards where Halsin left the basket, both resolving to walk there on two legs instead of four. It was colder this way, and the wind was starting to sting their bare faces, but that only meant they could look forward to getting warm together in front of their fire.