Amaranth and the Midlander

word count: 292

Amaranth gingerly set her weight on her foot. She cried out at the pain that burst at her ankle, her knees buckling. The stranger caught her and lifted her into his arms. She gasped at the sudden strength she hadn’t seen there before.

“I’ll have to take you home,” he said. “My sister can help with that foot.”

She relaxed a little. But only a little. Even to have someone heal her, he was still taking her among humans, creatures that – she had seen for herself – only wanted something from a fairy for personal gain. At the end of the day, that’s all that this one would want, too.

If he even knew who he was carrying to safety. McHale had been about to cut her wings – and all for coin, the avaricious beast – and then this stranger had suddenly shown up and saved her life, giving Amaranth a chance to whisper the spell to hide her wings. She had no idea if he’d seen them.

The sky at last released its tears at her grandfather’s decease that morning, and soon enough they were both drenched. She winced as her ankle throbbed. How much farther till they reached the stranger’s home? Would any distance be safe enough from the man called McHale? “Are we there yet?”

“Not much farther now,” the stranger replied.

“You’re a Midlander!” Now she knew why his accent was so familiar.

He looked down at her in surprise. His eyes were brown and ringed with green. “Yes, I am.”

Her breath escaped in a sigh, her heart fluttered in relief.

“Is that a good thing to you, then?” he asked.

“A very good thing,” she assured him. Fairies were always safe with Midlanders. McHale couldn’t touch her now.