🌟A Yuletide Love - Part 1🌟

Author’s notes: Please enjoy this mythical, fantasy romance. I wish all my Vocal friends a wonderful and joyful Christmas (or holiday season, if you prefer). May the ending of this year herald the start of a new and exciting year ahead!

The air is crisp, and I suck in a lungful as I watch the sun rise. Fresh snow coats the ground, but the morning skies are clear. At least for now. Wrapping my hands around my hot mug of ginger-root tea, I sigh in contentment and lean against the wooden pillar of my porch.

It’s three months past my fifty-second name-day, but I barely feel the years in my joints. In truth, I feel more alive than I’ve ever felt. Both my children are married and my husband is two years gone. It’s only me I must worry about now and I’m content.

I’ve been up for well over an hour, chopped wood, stoked the fire and cooked myself a hearty meal. My next bit of business will be to check my traps. Glancing at my bow, I grin. Maybe I’ll even get lucky and bag a deer.

My larder was nearly full, so I wasn’t too worried. Still, fresh venison steak would be a welcome change to rabbit stew.

I’m about to turn and enter my home when the sound of a wagon reaches my ears. Frowning, I squint as it comes into view. A familiar figure stands and waves excitedly as she sees me, the rutted road nearly toppling her from her perch.

The hand of the burly man at her side easily steadies her, encouraging her to sit back down else she falls. The patient set of his jaw and the gentle way he urges the mare, pulling the wagon, with light taps of the reins belie his large stature. I couldn’t have asked for a kinder man for my daughter to marry.

I sigh, tamping down my irritation before raising my hand to wave back. As much as I loved my daughter, Mira, and her husband, Dobis, I wasn’t of a mind to entertain today. Besides, their worry over my solitude was irksome.

“Mother!” Mira cries, barely waiting for the wagon to stop before clambering down. Mira’s dark hair, so much like my own—minus the grey—swings about her shoulders as she hurries towards me.

Setting my mug down, I step off my porch to greet her, bracing myself as her arms come around me in a tight hug. “Mira, darling, you’re acting as if we haven’t seen each other in a year,” I laugh, returning her hug and adding a kiss to her cheek as she pulls away.

“Oh, I know, mother! But I worry about you way out here! I swear I’ve been a nervous wreck since we left you last.”

My smile feels strained as I try to suppress the frown that threatens. “It’s been less than three weeks, daughter.”

She waves her hand dismissively in front of her. “A lot can happen to a lone woman in that time, especially one your age. When you asked Dobis to help fix up grandma and grandpa’s old place, I did not know you intended to move here permanently. If I had, I would have put my foot down.”

The hold on my frown disappears. But before I can put my daughter in her place, Dobis inserts himself between us, wrapping me in a massive hug. “Leave Dalia alone, Mira. Let her live how she sees fit. She’s earned it.”

Didn’t I say my son-in-law was the best? “Thank you, Dobis,” I whisper as he releases me.

He winks at me before turning to the door. “Come on, ladies. Mira made her spiced apple loaf and wouldn’t let me have so much as a crumb before we got here. I’ve had to endure the entire ride with my mouth watering.” He holds up a cloth covered basket as he leads the way into the house.

Sighing, I shake my head before following the duo into my home. I can’t blame Mira for her worry. As a widowed woman, my wanting to live away from town was unconventional by most folks’ standards.

By Mira’s measure, I should have either re-married the first man to ask me or moved in with her and Dobis to help raise the babies they will have. Neither of those paths appealed to me.

My daughter and I speak no more about my situation over the next hour as we enjoy each other’s company. She regales me with the latest town gossip, and I show her the fine rabbit's fur gloves I’ve recently finished making.

Holding the silky furred gloves in her hands, she looks them over. “You’re stitching has always been impeccable, mother. These are truly beautiful! I especially love the details you’ve added around the hem here.”

“Good, because they’re yours. It’ll be Yuletide soon and I want to make sure you have your gifts in case the snow keeps me here over the holiday.”

Her eyes widen and she clutches them to her breast. “Thank you, mother! But I wish you’d change your mind and come and stay with me and Dobis. At least over the winter months.”

I shake my head firmly. “My larder is more than stocked and I have enough canned and dried food to last me well until spring. The wood Dobis and your brother chopped during summer will also see me through the season. I’m well prepared and you know that.”

Her eyes well with tears. “I know, but I’ll still worry so.” She leans over to hug me. “I still wish you’d tell me what possessed you to move all the way out here on your own.”

I don’t answer her as I return her hug. What could I say when I wasn’t entirely sure of the reasons myself?

“Since we’re exchanging gifts early, here’s yours. Dobis insisted we bring it, just in case. I swear you two are so much alike,” Mira chuckles as she pulls out a folded cloth, the colour of the evening sky, from her basket. “It’s a scarf and the colour nearly matches your eyes.”

“It’s exquisite,” I breathe as I slip it around my neck. “It must be one of Yanna’s creations.” Our small town wasn’t famous for much, but many in the area sought his clothing.

Mira nods, her eyes bright with delight. “He says to say hi. He also wanted me to mention he would pay you for any well cured hides. I told him not to encourage you.”

Grinning, I rub the velvety soft material against my cheek. “Let him know that I’ll think about it.”

As they prepare to leave, I hand Dobis a cheesecloth wrapped parcel of rabbit jerky, heavily seasoned, just the way he liked it. “Happy Yuletide,” I say, patting his arm.

He scoops me up and plants a kiss on my cheek, making me shriek out a laugh. “My thanks, Dalia. It won’t last long, and my stomach might protest, but it’ll be well worth it.”

We walk out to their wagon together and Mira gives me another hug before Dobis helps her climb up to her seat. “Your son will try to make it out before the snow really flies. But with Flaya heavy with child, he might not get the chance,” Dobis informs me.

“Tell Kastin not to worry about me. He’ll have his hands full soon enough. Just ask him to send word when my first grandchild arrives.”

They both nod before Dobis clicks loudly, encouraging the mare into movement.

Returning to the porch, my eyes track them until they disappear behind the trees.

I note the position of the sun as I turn to go inside and judge that I still had several hours of daylight. “Enough to check my traps, at least.”

Gathering up my supplies, I shut the door to my house and head to the start of the familiar path that would take me in a loop past each of the traps.

I breathe in the sweet smell of decayed leaves and damp earth as I gaze at the dense woods around me. Even with the trees bare of leaves, the woods were beautiful. Watery sunlight filter through the naked limbs, and small birds chirp merrily.

Looking to the north, I note the dark clouds looming on the horizon. “There will be snow before nightfall,” I mutter as I pick up my pace.

The first few traps lay un-sprung, so I hurry on. Even though I had plenty of meat, it was still a relief to find fat hares in my next three traps. I whisper a heartfelt prayer of gratitude before collecting them and quickly re-set the traps.

It’s darker now as the clouds blot out the sunlight and charge the air with the sharp tang of snow, but I was close enough to home at this point not to be worried.

My route back takes me past my favourite grove and a delighted chuckle escapes me when fat flakes begin falling. Their lazy path coats the red holly berries that decorate this place, making me smile at how pretty a picture it makes.

“It is almost Yuletide. I suppose a little decorating is in order.” I move to the nearest holly bush and pull out my knife, carefully cutting several bunches and placing them in my pouch. “Just enough for a wreath and maybe a sprig or two for the table.”

I hum a cheery tune as I work, losing myself in the simple task.

“Why do you pick berries that are poisonous to you?” A deep voice, smooth as warmed honey, asks from behind me.

My hand with the knife freezes at the question, but I don’t immediately turn. The sound of a stranger’s voice should have my heart racing in fear. Instead, my gut clenches in anticipation. As if I should know the speaker.

Several farmers live in the area, but none would travel this far just to wander the woods around my place. Still, the feeling persists that when I turn, I’ll recognize the person behind me.

My world slows as I pivot. The holly branches I’m holding fall to the ground as I take in the man standing at the edge of the small grove.

Eyeing the sprawling set of antlers atop his head, perhaps ‘man’ isn’t the correct term, although I’m certain the being is male. And my instincts were correct in that I knew and didn't know him at the same time.

“The Green Man,” I utter, my breath frosting the air in front of me.

He cocks his head at my words, his deep brown eyes regarding me. His skin is the colour of late summer leaves, with swirls of lighter green decorating his exposed chest. Long silver hair accentuates his pointed ears and sharp ethereal features.

“You… you’re the father of the forest. The Green Man,” I repeat, knowing there is a silly look on my face.

“I’m known by many names, but yes, The Green Man is one of them,” he says as a slight smile tugs at his lips before his gaze moves to the holly in my bag. “You pick poisonous berries. Why? Do you wish to end your life?”

“What? No, not at all. I’ll use it to decorate my home for the Yuletide season.” My voice is higher pitched than normal as I struggle to believe my own senses.

“Ah, yes. A festive time of year for humans during this season of sleep. Why, then, are you not tucked safely amongst the other townsfolk?” His question holds no censure, just simple curiosity.

His gentle words have my mind revisiting the past year, and everything that is bottled up inside me spills out.

“I couldn’t stand their looks of pity any longer,” I mutter, my eyes holding his solemn gaze. “I was no longer a mother, no longer a wife. Being well past my child-bearing years, they viewed me as one would an old hound who could no longer follow a scent.”

He frowns. “They thought you useless?”

I laugh, the sound as brittle as the ice now coating the trees. “I had an offer to remarry. The old sod said he could use a woman's touch around the house. A maid is what he meant. Said he didn’t even mind that my ‘bloom’ was gone. So, I guess not completely useless.”

The horned god is silent, and his unabashed scrutiny of me causes colour to rise in my cheeks.

“Even a bloom that loses its petals is still a wonder.” He says those words with such love that I gasp, and that overwhelming feeling of recognition floods me.

“I feel like I know you. Not just know of you, but know you,” I whisper, my eyes sweeping his tall frame again.

“In a way, perhaps you do. I’ve watched your life’s spark walk this world for years. It’s always shined so bright you were hard not to notice. Even when you left these woods for the mate that wooed you, I sensed your light from afar.”

“When I was younger, I explored these woods often. Sometimes I felt as if someone was nearby… watching me. That was you?” I ask, my mind reeling.

He tilts his head in affirmation. “Not always, as my duties during the warm months can take me far and keep me busy. But you… your love and respect for the forest and its animals drew me to you often. I especially remember the times you helped to heal a weak or injured creature. It was a sad day when you left for life in the nearby town.”

My heart is racing at his words. That I could impress such a godly being as him was surreal. “Why did you not appear to me then? Why now?”

“It was not our time to meet then.” He answers with a slight chuckle.

“And now is?”

“Apparently so.” He sweeps his arms out and bows, making me smile.

A chill breeze from the north whips the snow around my feet and I shiver at its bite before pulling my cloak tighter around me.

“You’re cold.” He moves almost faster than I can track him as suddenly he is standing in front of me. I don’t have time to pull back before he’s wrapping his arms around me, pulling me next to his bare chest. “Forgive me. I forgot how swiftly such weather can affect humans.”

My instinct to push him away dies as soon as his warmth cocoons me. The feeling is not unlike coming home to a blazing hearth and familiar surroundings. So instead of pushing away, I lean into him, allowing an intimacy I’ve not had since my husband died.

As my body relaxes, I feel his hand raise to stoke my hair. “Are you warmer now, Dalia?”

“You know my name.” I state, no longer surprised. “I must look different to you now, seeing as I’m no longer the pretty young maiden you saw last.” In reply, I feel a chuckle rumble through him.

He leans back, placing his hands on my shoulders as he gazes into my eyes. “Beauty does not diminish just because the vessel that holds its light ages. Are humans so stuck on a singular form of beauty?”

“I suppose most are,” I say, feeling a blush rise in my cheeks at his words.

“What about you, Dalia? Is a mountain range more stunning than a gentle creek spilling over mossy rocks?” His eyes continue to search mine as he waits for my reply.

“Not to me. Each holds its own sort of loveliness.”

“A simple truth that the unfortunate can’t see. It’s a very limiting way to be… In my humble opinion.”

“Perhaps being a god grants you a better perspective,” I grin.

Throwing his head back, he laughs. “I’m as much a god as you are. As the trees and beast of this forest are.”

“What are you then, if not a god?”

His head tilts to the side as he gives a strand of my hair a gentle tug. “I’m someone who wishes to walk you home. The snow is coming faster now and soon it will be fully dark. I would like to see you warm in your den before that.”

A word of protest springs to my lips as I have no desire to part from his company just yet, but I squash it down. Despite the Green Man’s warmth, my toes are feeling numb from the cold. “That’s probably a good idea.”

It’s fully dark before we reach my cabin and even with the freshly fallen snow illuminating our path, I’m glad for his guidance.

I shuffle my feet as we stand on my porch in front of the door. Even with this inexplicable feeling of knowing him, this encounter has been surreal. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you… Um… and thank you for walking me home.” The words feel silly as I say them and totally inadequate, so I add. “I wish we could talk more… You could come in if you wish.”

I hold my breath on those last words, both hopeful yet fearful that he might accept my invitation. What do I offer such as him in food or drink?

“I’m afraid I can’t. I still have some tasks to finish before the night's end.”

“Oh, yes, of course! I’ve taken enough of you time already.” My smile feels strained, but I can't help my immense feeling of disappointment at his reply.

Stepping closer, he takes both my hands in his. “The winter solstice marks the beginning of my time of rest. But… I do not have to spend such time alone…”

My heart is like a drum in my chest at his words and heat rushes through me at the smile that curls his lips. Reaching down, he pulls out a small sprig of the holly I collected and holds it up in front of me.

“If you feel the same and would like to spend this season of sleep with me, hang this holly on your door on the eve of your Yuletide.”

I watch in wonder as the red holly berries turn a stunning blue. Taking my hand, he places them in my palm. “Now go start your hearth fires so you don’t freeze,” he chuckles.

Clasping the holly to my chest, I nod, too stunned to speak, and turn to open the door. “Wait, what if…” the question dies on my lips when I notice he’s vanished. If it wasn’t for our footprints, quickly disappearing in the falling snow, and the magical holly in my hand, I might think I imagined the whole thing.

A blast of bone chilling wind sends me scurrying inside. I place the holly in a safe location on my windowsill before lighting the hearth and, with some gentle coaxing, the fire is soon dancing merrily.

It will take some time for the blaze to heat my cabin to a comfortable level, so I grab a blanket and curl up in the overstuffed chair in front of its warmth.

The flames hold my attention for a few moments before my eyes stray to the blue holly. Yuletide was just over a week away… will I hang the holly on my door as the Green Man asked? Did I wish for his company?

“Yes, very much so,” I mutter. His company will be more than polite conversation over ginger-root tea, my mind whispers back. The thought was not an unpleasant one and I shiver.

Undeniably, we share a profound bond. But how… why? It is a mystery I very much wish to solve.

Please follow for Part 2