A warm summer breeze brushes over your chilled skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The water of the spring you just left had felt wonderful in the moment–an easy way to beat the sweltering heat–but the feeling of the afternoon sun reminds you that your body is chilled to the bone as a result.

You spot a clearing up ahead, one that looks open and inviting despite a few overgrown brambles and several ragged looking tree stumps that line the edge of the space. You follow what looks to be a path of sorts; the grass is barely disturbed, but there is a distinct flattening of the vegetation leading to the clearing that could only be from human footsteps. You relish in the feeling of the soft moss on your bare feet as you are led deeper into the forest.

The full heat of the sun hits you when you step into the small field, no longer filtered out by the tall, leafy trees. You close your eyes for a moment to bask in the sensation. Your skin is already warming up, but the heat isn’t heavy and unbearable like before.

When you open your eyes, you take a moment to finally scan around the entirety of the meadow. It is a lovely spot of nearly untouched nature. The grass is tall, rustling gently with the passing breeze, and wildflowers dot the sea of green with splashes of orange and violet. You can see a few narrow deer paths leading back into the woods, and you are certain that the rounded openings in a few of the particularly dense areas of vegetation belong to rabbits–several of which are cautiously grazing on the side opposite of where you stand.

The entire scene is idyllic, setting your mind at ease and spreading a fuzzy warmth throughout your chest. However, moments later when you turn around to look back at the way you came from, you have to clamp a hand over your mouth to stop the startled yelp that tries to escape.

There, just a few feet away in the darkest edge of the clearing, kneels a man. His back is to you and from the way his head hangs over whatever is in front of him, you doubt that he noticed you enter. 

His hair is a soft shade of mauve and sits in wild tufts atop his head–as if he has run his fingers through it a few too many times–and his elegant black clothing hangs artfully off his lithe frame. There is something otherworldly about him, and he looks entirely out of place among the green field overflowing with life. His aura feels dark and wicked and, judging from the hunched set of his shoulders, maybe a little bit broken. A word for his appearance tickles at the back of your mind, but you dismiss it immediately as an impossibility. There’s no way you would run into one of those in this area.

You are debating whether you should make your presence known or attempt a quiet retreat, but your decision is made for you when an unconscious step backwards causes a twig to snap. The man’s head whips around to find the source of the sound and he spots you immediately. Your eyes meet his, and it takes great effort to keep from tripping over your own feet at the sight.

The whites of his eyes are reddened and the lids swollen as if he had been crying. Despite this, his eyes are beautiful in color–a warm shade of brown with flecks of gold that seem to glow even from this distance. There appears to be a deep sadness behind the intensity of his gaze that remains even as his expression shifts to suspicion at the sight of you.

“Who sent you?” Even under the harsh tone of his anger, you can tell his voice is beautiful to match the rest of him. It has a pleasant, melodic quality to it and you find yourself missing the sound of it after he asks his question.

It takes a moment for you to get past the distraction of his appearance to process what he is asking. “I-I don’t know what you mean,” you say. “No one sent me, I was just out for a walk.”

His eyes narrow at your response and he takes a step closer, watching you carefully. “You expect me to believe that? This place isn’t easy to find, you can’t tell me you just stumbled upon it.” His voice is harsh and mocking, and it leaves an uncomfortable weight in your chest. There is something intimidating about the space that surrounds him, it feels heavy and alive–like the air before a storm–and it raises a different kind of goosebumps on your skin. You suddenly want to be very far away from this clearing.

“I don’t know what to tell you.” You try to take a step back, but he matches you with another step forward. “I was swimming at a nearby spring and saw a path to this clearing on my way back.” Your head drops to examine the blades of grass clinging to your bare feet in order to avoid his gaze. You add on further explanation after a moment of hesitation, but your voice is no more than a murmur, “I just wanted to warm up in the sun.”

There is a long pause of heavy silence and you take the opportunity to look at him again. His expression is still cautious, but less hostile. You can tell he is trying to make a judgement about you and you want to shrink under the intensity of his stare. Amazingly, his eyes are even more beautiful up close. The gold specks seem to shine with a light of their own and look almost molten in the way they appear to shift and change shape.

“You need to leave,” he says finally. “This is private property and you shouldn’t be here.”

The sudden shift in his voice from harsh anger to cold professionalism is confusing, but it allows you to relax a bit. “Oh–I’m sorry I–yes, I’ll get going.” You start backing away towards the opening in the trees where you entered from, keeping your eyes on the strange man. “I’m sorry to have bothered you,” you call out just before darting out onto the trail. 

You run the entire way back to the spring and take a different, well-travelled, path back to civilization. The sound of your heart pounds in your ears and you don’t spare a moment to calm down until you make it into town.

When you finally arrive at your home, you ignore the curious inquiries from your roommate about your afternoon adventure and rush to hole up in your room. Once you are safely under the warmth of your covers, you allow yourself several deep, shaky breaths until your heart is back to steadily beating at its normal pace.

You close your eyes and sigh, images of the man from the clearing flashing in your memory. There was something so incredibly other about him and you can’t seem to shake the image of his wild hair and burning eyes. The same word from earlier whispers in the back of your mind, and as much as you want to dismiss it again, you can’t help but think that it would explain him perfectly.

There have been rumors swirling for years now, traveling with merchants from the large cities near the capital, but you never thought much about them. You always assumed that something that appeared in fairy tales would never be relevant to you in such a small town on the outskirts of the kingdom.

It seemed impossible before today but, as you recall again the wicked and beautiful appearance of the man, you wonder if this means you’ll need to reevaluate your definition of impossible.