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"Stay away from the woods."
The forest stretched beyond the horizon, compact, rich with trees, bushes and thickets alike. Its canopy was marked by greens and yellows, and rays of light burst through their crowns, allowing for a flood of shrubs to spread in the with leaves covered grounds below. Rough tree bark slid beneath his hand, a rumor of insects hiding beneath. Fallen leaves scrunched beneath his feet, a few twirled down from the trees, as if they wished to bid the stranger good day.
The uneven ground sloped gently, and then rose like the waves of the ocean, with the sun hanging overhead, dipping behind the wall of trees. Knobby roots sat underfoot, careful not to trip over them.
"Don’t listen to the music, no matter how sweet it sounds."
A disharmony of noises, birds tweeting their love songs, insects buzzing around his ears, and butterflies fluttering from flower to flower, echoed in the air, and were out of sync with the occasional sounds of breaking twigs beneath the feet of larger animals, and himself. The trees hummed like pulsing hearts all around him, adding to the magnificent symphony of the forest.
It were not just the animals that brought the music of the night, not just the snuffling boars digging beneath the combs of feathery moss, or the scurrying squirrels trotting across the branches of the trees, in search of food. Not the scuttling rabbits, skittering mice or the shambling badgers. Bucky did not think he had ever seen this much animals before, frolicking down in plain sight, almost as if trying to coax him off the path. It was more than that.
Like a song of the purest voice, he heard the melody drift through the air towards the very place he walked. Something akin to silver bells, tingling under the hum of a babbling brook. So natural, yet so otherworldly. Something that had tangled itself in the threat of old magic, something of beautiful colors, dark and light. Something that was an idea brought to sound, a story come to life.
"Don’t look at the lights, no matter how pretty they are."
It had to be nonsense, those warnings. Bucky could not understand how something so pretty could ever be dangerous, certainly, that was not the way of life? Granted, he knew of poisonous frogs bearing the most vivid of colors, and the brightest animals should be most avoided. Still, this could not be like that. He tilted his head back, gazing up at the above. Beautiful lights hung above him in the canopy of trees, like dozens of fairies just fluttering from here to there, humming so sweetly.
Wisps of magical lights swirled around overhead, casting their rays upon the forest floor, filtering down in the most beautiful seams of gold. They were all colors and none at all, fluttering left and right to chase after shadows, playing together in a game of tag that had Bucky long to join in. The sweet song and pretty lights banished the gloom and spilled into spaces where the mist once stalked.
"Never stray from the path."
Coiling branches waved from every tree, and a hodgepodge of flowers, in all colors Bucky could ever imagine, were a welcome change in the otherwise unchanging backdrop. He lifted his face, letting the light and shadow dance across his skin, and he longed for more. The rustling foliage in the wind were like sleeping souls slowly wakened as the sun dipped lower in the sky. He needed more.
The path was of light brown beneath his feet, with small pebbles and overgrown tree roots and moss, trickling onto the path, flattened by feet that have walked there before. Not many. Not many people dared to venture into Lockewall forest; Bucky did not understand why not. It was beautiful. He remembered the worried voices of the villagers, their warnings echoing still in his ears. Do not stray from the path. But, looking at the lights dancing between the trees, and the sweet song coming from afar, everything seemed so much better into the forest.
With the careful placement of his foot, he took his first step off the path, venturing closer to that bush that seemed to be filled with magic. Thin creepers dangled from a couple of trees, and a potpourri of flowers, which grew all over the place, gave the forest the appearance of something out of a fairy tale. It almost seemed surreal, and Bucky only knew he wanted more.
From the corner of his eye, he saw something move. Or rather- some one.
"And for God’s sake, beware the nymphs."
With eyes blue than the skies and the oceans, tiny stars sparkling in a reflection in the light blue, the young man looked at him. A ring of silver, sharp like a knife, surrounded the black of his pupil, flowing into oceans waves that seemed to change colors with every twist and turn of his head. Like the everlasting sea rising and falling faster than Bucky could comprehend, flickering like traps that caged his very being.
His liquid eyes resembled, in their breathtaking depths, the lucid waters of the sea. Hair like golden strands lay tussled on his head, though with certain order that could not be arranged by simply falling out of bed. Like a perfect picture, something from a dream, something from hope and beauty and legends. Something that Bucky wished to touch, something that had Bucky yearning to explore every inch of the creature’s body.
"No matter how beautiful they look, do not listen to them. And for all that’s good and holy in this world, do not go with them!"
The young man circled around him in a flowing motion that looked like a dance. When he moved, it was like water transformed by slow music, flowing in graceful arcs, limbs in constant motion like a hypnotist trying to bring all of his viewers under his spell, painting a picture sound alone could never hope to archive. He was the rhythm to the instruments, the body to the voice, the beauty to the melody.
Bucky moved along in that same circle, nearly tripping over his own feet as they rushed to keep up while his brain came to a grinding halt. His eyes were as wide as dinner plates, and his lips parted, body turning and twisting as to keep the gorgeous stranger in sight. The man was wearing a flowing, pale green robe, which, far from deteriorating from his beauty, greatly added to its effect.
The young man reached out a hand towards Bucky, eyes inviting and so kind.
"Come," the man spoke, plump, pink lips curling up to a smile, and Bucky could not help but reach out his own hand and take that of the stranger. Their fingers entwined, like puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly, and the young man tugged.
Bucky followed. Deeper into the forest.
The fluty piping of a songbird added to the music that was thrilling in Bucky’s ears, more light spilling down from the rising moon and the falling sun, flooding the forest in more colors than ever thought possible. A fusillade of trilling and warbling detonated all around him, the forest seemingly coming to life for true as the gorgeous stranger led the way to places unknown. It hummed, buzzed and sung, living up and moving around him in a most peculiar dance, all the while this stranger moved like golden liquid.
They darted between the greens and browns of the trees, standing proud like skyscrapers, and fallen to the ground to rest their heavy bodies after so many years of proudness alike. They danced, the stranger leading so perfectly that it was like Bucky had never done any other thing in his life. They twirled, and Bucky’s smile turned into a laugh, one of disbelief and a kind of happiness he had not felt in so long. They jumped from one spot of lustrous-gold light to the other, shining onto them like spotlights.
Butterflies fluttered around them in waves, like the melodies had taken new shapes, like the very essence that made colors had packed together to form a tiny animal, fluttering at high speed around and around in its own whirlstorm. They were all tiny dancers, showing their best moves, pirouetting through the air, landing on the stranger’ hair, his green robe, and right above his eye. He was an art piece, this man, his beauty unmatched by any other thing Bucky had ever seen, and they went deeper into the forest.
From afar, Bucky could hear the soft babbling of a stream, or perhaps a brook that flowed so bravely with drops of clean water. The mystery stranger pushed aside a wad of branches and leaves, giving way for the view of a glade, free from trees and bushes, but with a pool set in the middle. The stream led towards it, like a path that you could not walk upon. The water almost seemed to beg him to come take a swim. It was not quite deep, but so clear. Boulders, big and small, framed the edges of the pond, covered with pillows of moss.
"Here," the nymph said, tugging their connected hands once more, and Bucky gladly followed. The song was so sweet, and the butterflies with their fluttering wings of silk charmed him like nothing else. The nymph led Bucky further, along the waters that beckoned and shone, their hands warm, but not sweaty in any way.
The nymph’s lush green robe fluttered around his bare feet that kissed the dirt so lightly, like they were one, like he was nothing but a child of nature at his finest right here, where he belonged. It was nothing but a blessing to lay eyes on, his head full of luscious, blond hair and a smile to his lips that made Bucky’s legs go weak faster than any height could. The way that robe flowed like the petal of a rose around him, yet it clung to his body that was like a sea of curves, gently sloping from his broad shoulders to his narrow, tapered waist, and Bucky wanted a dip.
Though something of worry nagged at the back of his head, something about nymphs and lost travelers, somewhere he thought that this beauty was flirting with him. The way he brushed his bangs away from his eyes, the soft tone his voice held as he whispered his beckoning, and that dimpled smile he kept showing. Then again, perhaps it was merely Bucky’s head messing with him, how would he know?
All he knew was that he would never again go through something like this in his life, and that this was a memory to cherish fondly. The blue-eyed wonder cast another glance behind him, smiling so sweetly that it made a balloon expand in Bucky’s chest, his heart pounding so many miles an hour, and even blinking was too much for him, for he never wanted to lose sight. The nymph was now walking backwards, tugging so gently, smiling so kindly as the eternal music of the forest swirled around the two of them, and-
SNAP
A piercing cry cut through the forest.
The melody was gone, the song broken. A harsh halt came to the hum of the sky, and like that, the forest fell into a shocked silence. The sudden snap, whatever it had been, had killed the beautiful sounds that had just enhanced Bucky a moment ago, and every light and song slipped into hollow spaces to hide. Their hands parted, one of them pulled back harshly, the other confused and stunned.
The silence that now hung overhead was more than just lugubrious, it had ripped the very happiness and joy from Bucky’s chest, stabbing his heart fiercer than any knife could. It was like a punch to the stomach, one that left him breathless, and filled his eyes with a blurry haze. He gasped for breath, lips parting as to suck in every bit of air he could, finding none in his body. His lungs seemed to collapse, his head now pounding with the new sensation. Like breaking the surface after having been under for too long.
It was like waking up from a fever by the shock of being submerged in a bath of ice water, almost drowning. He gasped for breath. The spell snapped, breaking free from him and he could feel his own will and thoughts guide him out of the haze. The magic broke like glass and the shards were thrown around in his brain, causing more agony but it felt good. The magic writhed, desperately trying to stay but it couldn't. Bucky resisted, struggled to get out, and he got rid of the last little leftovers of magic that had no business in his mind.
He blinked, and again, and again, trying to clear his eyes from the mist that obscured his vision. He scuffled backwards, lifting his hands as to rub his eyes, and somewhere, he expected to be alone once he would open them again. When he did, however, the nymph was still there, though he was no less shocked, his heart sinking so deeply it sunk out through the soles of his feet.
The nymph was still there, but lying on the ground instead of dancing so hauntingly beautiful through the air like he was floating. The creature was panting harshly, his face twisted up in excruciating pain, holding himself up by leaning onto his hands, one leg curled up against his hips, the other stretched out. For a moment, Bucky did not understand. He did not understand why the creature was trembling so fearfully, and in pain, but then he saw it.
The nymph’s foot was stuck in a bear trap.
Bucky jerked back, recoiling in horror, eyes wide as he drew in a sharp breath the moment he laid eyes on the gruesome scenery. One of his hands flew up to cover his mouth, a stifled cry slipping through.
Like that, he stood there for a moment, in complete silence. Nothing moved, nothing shone, nothing sang. There was nothing but a hollow echoing behind yards of thick glass in a far distance, like the hushed rumbles of footsteps a great, slabbed cathedral, entombed the wood. It was only when his shock ebbed from him, that he heard the noises that the nymph did make. The noises of pain. Quiet shivers wrecked through the being’s body, lips parting on uneven flows of breaths.
The nymph’s eyes darted all over, desperately searching for a way to relief his body from the miserable feeling of pain that he was quite literally trapped in. He tried the best he could to block out the pain, to find some form of meditative trance in order to cope with the agonizing sensations, but it did not seem to work. Tears glazed over those deep, ocean eyes, fear and panic taking over the song and dance. Nothing was left of the smile, not a single dimple or gleam of boyish mischief to be found.
It was too much. Bucky could not just stand there and do nothing, even though the nymph had probably been meaning to lure him away to eat him. It was nothing but torture to stand there and watch the creature whimper and tremble in pain, having no idea how to handle the trap that sat cutting wickedly into his leg.
Bucky stepped forward, kneeling down next to the floored man, holding out a soothing hand towards the nymph’s face, palms towards the other, fingers uncurled as to show he had no intention to harm. There was not a malicious bone in his body, not a hair on his head that thought of hurting the creature before him, no matter what he had been planning to do with Bucky. "It’s alright, take it easy. I’m gonna help you, okay?"
He reached his hand out further, resting it gently on the nymph’s side, stroking up and down with careful fingers, hoping to calm the panicking creature somewhat. He took a look at the wound, scrunching up his nose at the sight of the sharp teeth of the trap digging into the nymph’s foot. Warm blood trickled out of the exposed wounds, and Bucky supposed the rusty iron would not work in their favor either.
With careful hands, he pressed snugly against the opened wounds to stop the free flowing surge of sticky blood. The nymph whimpered softly, moving his leg away, but only a little. He had lain down half on his stomach, half on his side, hands tucked against him, trying to get comfortable while his leg was in a world of pain. The sight was nothing but heartbreaking, and Bucky wanted so badly to make it better. In his head, he cursed the people who had put the trap here. He wished them bad things.
Something bugged him in the back of his head. The trap the nymph was stuck in seemed like any old bear trap set out by hunters, but something about it was different. Then he knew. Bear traps were designed to catch and hold the leg of a bear, not to cut it off. He remembered his father telling him about these things, and that if a person were to step in one, their leg may be badly bruised, but it should not be severely injured or amputated. Here, the jaws of the iron monster had dug themselves deep into the flesh of a humanoid creature. That was not right.
It was a terrible task, but one he had to fulfill. He gripped the sides of the trap, going to compress the levers on either side of the trap jaws with his hands. He pressed the levers as closely to the jaws as possible, moving it as to pull back the jaws of the thing. It tore free from the nymph’s leg, who let a pain-filled cry flow passed his lips.
"I’m sorry," Bucky said, his voice hoarse and breaking at the edges, noticing his own eyes watering, "It’s almost out, okay? Please, just- just hold on, alright?"
When the trap had been removed, Bucky closed the thing again and tossed the heavy contraption away from the two of them. He took off his button-up shirt from beneath his jacket, tearing off long strips of the fabric. He soaked one of them in water, and used it to clean the wounds a little, that were already bleeding less. He used the longer strips to bind the wounds. He knew it was not a good substitute for actual bandages, but it had to do for now.
Somewhere, he expected the nymph to bolt it, to attack, or perhaps to show hidden fangs and claw at him with sharp nails. That did not happen. On the contrary. Once Bucky scooted back towards the nymph’s head on his knees, the creature pushed himself up and in Bucky’s direction- but not to cause any harm.
If anything, the creature seemed to be looking for more reassurance.
For comfort.
Sitting there in silence for a moment, Bucky had no idea what to do. Then, he just let the tug of his heartstrings guide him, and he moved in closer to gather the poor, trembling thing into his arms. The creature seemed so much smaller now, in his gorgeous green robe that fell around his surprisingly frail build, even though Bucky could feel the muscles beneath the skin. It was a nymph thing, he supposed. To be so tall and powerful, yet so frail and vulnerable at the same time.
"I don’t think that was part of the plan, was it?" Bucky asked, forcing out a huff.
The nymph shook his head, tucking his head beneath Bucky’s chin. Should he be afraid of the nymph tearing out his throat? Should he be afraid of the nymph clawing open his chest to get to his heart? Probably, very likely, perhaps? He had no idea. He just knew that the poor thing was looking for comfort, still in pain from the agony that burned through his leg, and Bucky did not mind being that source of comfort.
After all, this was already the strangest day of all his life.
"I’m sorry you got caught in that bear trap, bug," Bucky said then, when the nymph would not utter a word, just pressing closer into Bucky’s warmth, "Do they lie around more often?"
The nymph now nodded, gripping the side of Bucky’s jacket with one hand, holding on tight like Bucky was little but a lifeline to him, and he would evaporate once the nymph let go. He would not, of course. He had no idea how to do that. So he stayed, keeping his arms around the trembling figure of a myth. Said myth seemed torn between a couple of things, but Bucky did not know one of them. He was curious, though.
"I was not going to eat you," the creature mumbled then, "Us nymphs do not eat the villagers. Never do."
"That’s great to know, sugar, I was getting a little worried, to be honest." It was an attempt at a joke, something to lighten the mood, but the nymph barely reacted to it. Instead, he shook his head, sitting up a little straighter but keeping close. Like this, he much resembled the branches of the pale and fragile-looking trees that surrounded the glade. "I knew something so beautiful could not mean harm."
The nymph’s face, which had been partly averted, then revealed a pair of large blue eyes, which appear to look back with wondering surprise and shy mistrust. "Will you bring me home?"
Bucky looked into those shimmering blue eyes for a moment, then let out a fond sigh. "Why not? I got nothing better to do anyway."
Moving his arms as to wind one beneath the bend of the knees, he curled the other one around the small of the nymph’s back, coaxing the creature to wrap his arms around Bucky’s neck for more support. The creature did, and, with surprising ease (for Bucky thought the grown man would be much heavier), he lifted up the nymph. When they stood, the blond rested his head on Bucky’s shoulder, seemingly content with their proximity.
"You got a name, bug?" Bucky asked, as he took his steps towards the path of the forest the nymph had been trying to lead him towards at first.
"Steve," the nymph said, brushing his nose along the nape of Bucky’s neck, making the brunet shiver slightly, a little bit confused as to what the creature’s angle was, exactly. "That is what my friends call me."
"Alright then, Steve," Bucky said, "My name’s James, but everyone calls me Bucky."
As he carried off the nymph, he still did wonder what in the seven world wonders the creature had been trying to do when he lured Bucky deeper into the forest. Oh well, perhaps he would find out as soon as they had arrived wherever it was that the nymph, Steve, had been trying to guide him towards.