Faun Over Me by B.L. Brown

Author:B.L. Brown [Brown, B.L.]
Language: deu
Format: epub
Amazon: B0D13L33S7
Goodreads: 211021928
Publisher: Good Intent Press
Published: 2024-06-03T04:00:00+00:00

Acorn whiskey sloshed against the sides of the bottle, burning down Cricket’s throat to warm her belly. That, at least, it could do, as it was utterly useless at erasing Avery’s face from her mind.

She’d spent the day in the cabin and, after a quiet breakfast with Mac and Ramble, had escaped to the guest bedroom to read, sleep, and sleep some more until sunset when her body clock demanded she wake and move.

But where could she go? The monster was still in the woods, and Avery was in the camp. Cricket was no coward, but, damn, a faun was allowed to have a day of brooding to themselves, weren’t they?

Ramble was no help. They left after breakfast to drive to Green Bank and let the family know that Cricket was alright.

“I won’t make you come if you don’t want to, but they need to know.”

All Cricket could do was nod and poke her granola with a spoon. Topped with berries and walnuts and sprinkled with brown sugar, it was leagues better than anything the dining hall served. One glance at Mac, shoveling spoonfuls into her mouth while gazing adoringly at her spouse, told Cricket she thought so as well.

“I’ll take Aksel with me to check out the bedded-down area,” Mac said around a mouthful of granola. At Cricket’s raised eyebrows, she clarified, “The marching band coach.” She swallowed her bite and chased it with orange juice, wiping the remnants away with the back of her hand. “He’s wolven, keen eyes and a good sniffer.”

“Gods, he found me in, what, two days?” Ramble laughed. “I thought we were being so clever.”

“Wait.” Cricket jerked upright. “They don’t know you’re here?”

“The older counselors and teachers know since they’ve been coming here for years,” said Mac. “Sanoya, Aksel, Cooky, but for the most part, Ramble is a bit of a secret.”

“Some of the campers have seen me.” Ramble hunched into their shoulders, ears and nose twitching with embarrassment. “I just don’t … like being seen.”

“Took me an entire summer to get them to talk to me.” Mac reached across the table and squeezed Ramble’s forearm. “Not that we did much talking.”

“Oh, my Gods.” Ramble’s spoon clattered to the table, and they covered their face in their hands. “I was gone for less than a week!”

“And you’re leaving again.” Mac’s smile fell. A muscle in her jaw twitched. “I don’t want you driving back at night. Not with that thing out there.”

“I will stay the night. Cricket’s parents will have questions about us.” They waved a long-fingered hand at the kitchen, the door, the camp beyond. “About all of this. It is best if I give them the chance to ask questions as they think of them, rather than try to catch everything and answer letters as they come.”

Cricket couldn’t argue that. It was how the faun worked, especially the older generations. Sounds or scents or a flash in the corner of their eye would draw their attention, sending their brains on a rapid jaunt from one topic to another.

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