The Heartsprings

Home smelled like magnolias and blood on the night that everything ended. 

The night the Heartsprings burned. When the soft and silken cradle that had held and loved Eyna broke, shattering in ways that could never be put back together.

But the time for that was not yet. Now now, when a gentle sky rolled through the Heartsprings, guiding daylight and pushing away the early morning mists.

As the sunlight warmed her face, Eyna was deep in dreams. She slept, curled up in a meadow of soft wildflowers and broad leafed clover. Her glossy black hair was spread out, woven playfully into little knots by tiny fae while she slept.

Mother was came to rouse Eyna. Her branches gently coiled around Eyna, a rocking motion that pushed the girl from side to side. Fragrant pink flowers bloomed on Mother’s branches as she tried to urge her sleepy child to wakefulness.

“Eyna. Eyna, my sweetest delight… It is now time to get up. Lest you miss the morning call.” Mother murmured.

Stubborn and sleepy as Eyna was, the girl merely rolled over, nestling into a thick patch of clover.

“Sleep the day away and you will not get to experience the many wonders of it all.” Mother chided her. But even as she reprimanded her child, her branches wove into Eyna’s hair, untangling the knots one by one. Rose petals and sticks tumbled from Eyna’s hair. And when she was done, Eyna’s hair was threaded in a clean, elegant braid.

Still, Eyna refused to even open her eyes. 

Mother gave her a flick on the nose with the tip of a root. “Very well. But you must know… This will mean you will go without breakfast. Honeycakes today. Alas… Saffron and Pepper will consume them all. They are already on their way, ah-”

Eyna suddenly sat straight up, vibrant green eyes wide open. “Honeycakes!”

In a heartbeat, Eyna was on her feet, bouncing to the dining hall. She paused for half a breath, pressing a little kiss to one of Mother’s flowers. Then she was off again, racing to beat her adoptive siblings to the table.

Eyna’s long legs carried her swiftly. She bounded over fallen logs and streams, disrupting the dancing will-o-wisps. All around her, night fae exchanged places with their day counterparts. The world was unfurling, bit by bit.

Tiny fae watched Eyna fly by from their hideaways. They murmured and laughed to one another, opening the doors to their little homes in tree alcoves and between patches of vibrant mushrooms. A lonesome kelpie parted the water of her pool, her sleek horse head peering over curiously. An elegant high fae with glassy dragonfly wings glanced over, pausing his exercises for a moment. His gaze followed her as she darted through the trees.

Eyna had no time for niceties or greetings. Not when honeycakes were on the line. All her life she had raced and climbed and played in the Heartsprings. She knew every nook and cranny, every part of the gentle wooded glades and tumbling sacred springs.

With a triumphant leap, she cleared the last hurdle, breaking into the clearing. The dining hall was fashioned in a massive hollowed out tree. Thick hanging vines draped over it, tumbling in a curtain at the entrance that Eyna quickly swept aside. The center of the dining hall had a huge, circular table carved of deep polished oak.

And it was empty.

Eyna’s mouth parted, a deep despair rolling through her. “I missed it… I missed breakfast!” Betrayal was a sharp sting in her heart. She couldn’t believe that Pepper and Saffron hadn’t left anything for her.

A deep laugh rolled through the dining hall. Father stepped into the space, lifting one powerful, muscled arm to part the vine curtain. Even so, many of the vines caught on his wide antlers, and he had to carefully pick them out one by one.

“If it isn’t my little hummingbird!” Father’s handsome elven features were painted in the very picture of amusement, warm brown eyes dancing. “What an honor! To think that I’d get to meet you in person… With all that sleeping you do.”

“Oh, it’s you.” Eyna folded her arms. “I don’t speak to traitors.”

Father’s grin widened. Sorting the last of the vines, he approached Eyna, hooves clicking softly on the smoothed out stone below. “Traitor, you say? How might I be a traitor?”

“Isn’t it obvious? You ate all the honeycakes! Without me!”

“Did I now…?” Father cupped his face, looking contemplative. “I suppose it’s possible I did or did not… Really, I can't quite recall that happening. After all, it’s been so long since morning…”

“Your lies mean nothing to me!” She rounded the table on him. “And I will have my vengeance.”

Father chuckled, throwing his hands up in faux surrender. “Come now. There’s no need for violence. Not after I went out of my way to… Procure something special for my little hummingbird.”

Eyna narrowed her eyes. “More deception!”

“Please spare your humble servant! After all, I brought you…” Father reached into his side satchel and withdrew something round and richly fragrant and-

“Honeycakes!” She lunged for them.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Father raised the prized honeycakes far above her head teasingly, “Magic words first.”

Eyna huffed. “It’s embarrassing! Don’t make me say it…”

“Don’t make me eat your hard earned honeycakes.” Father chuckled at her horrified gasp. “Just a few words, hummingbird. Then they’re all yours.”

Eyna muttered a little under her breath. “... Dad is the best in the world. He’s strong and cool.”

“Annnd?” Father leaned in, one hand pressed to his sharp ear. “What else?”

Eyna gave another huff. But she mumbled the words quickly. “... And I love him very much.”

Father beamed. “And I love you very much, also, little hummingbird. Here you are.”

He presented the prize, folded in beeswax parchment. 

The cakes were shaped like honeycombs and sprinkled with crushed almonds and blackberries. Crisp on the outside, soft and melting on the inside, with lavender honey drizzled on top. Eyna sank her teeth into the first.

Saffron and Pepper arrived after her. Saffron was a flower fae no larger than Eyna’s hand, and Pepper was a rat. But they had large enough personalities to fill the room. The two of them entered the dining hall, bickering about something or other.

Pepper was the first to notice Eyna. His sensitive pink nose twitched, eyes going to the prize she was munching on. He pointed one clawed finger at Eyna as she tore through her cakes. “We missed it! We missed breakfast! Because of ya! Just had to pick those flowers, and now Eyna got everythin’-”

Saffron looked just as put out. But her response was more dignified, tossing lilac hair over her shoulder. The delicate little wings at her back fluttered. “It’s hardly my fault that you spent all dawn trapped in a spiderweb. Next time I’ll just leave you to the spiderlings, then.”

Pepper squeaked, pouncing on Saffron before she could react. The two of them went tumbling to the ground, nipping and wrestling with one another.

Father, ever the peacemaker, reached down to separate the two. “Now, now… Let’s not get too riled up.” He gently worked his fingertips between the tiny dueling duo. “Let’s not forget that both of you have stolen a meal or two from Eyna also, mm? And you won’t be going hungry. We have plenty of food for you.”

Pepper clicked his teeth, claws squabbling harmlessly against Father. “But honeycakes! No honeycakes for Pepper!”

Something about the situation was suspicious. Eyna turned to Father, eyes narrowed. “You had me convinced I missed breakfast. I didn’t miss it at all, did I? I was here first.”

Father grinned, gently placing the squirming Pepper on one side of the table, Saffron on the other. “Did I say that? Pretty sure I just said I couldn’t recall.”

“Deception,” Eyna nodded solemnly.

“Strategy,” Father corrected.

But Father did pull his magic. Disappearing behind the curtain of vines, he reappeared with more honeycakes. Enough for everyone, in fact. 

Pepper still shot her dirty looks across the table for her smugness. 

Eyna stuck her tongue out at him, taking her fill of the fresh fruits and berries and nuts that consisted of the rest of their meal. Served with clear spring water in wooden cups.

Mother joined them. Her branches descended down into the dining hall, her melodic voice gentle at their sides. It reverberated through every root and branch and stem around them. Mother didn't eat honeycakes or fruits or berries, of course. But she indulged in the spring water with them.

It was peaceful. Playful and rowdy at times. But peaceful - as it was every day. Laughter and bickering filled the hollowed out tree. None, from the slightest flower fae to the mightiest Tree Warden, knew of the winds of change.