which led to the inevitable jaunt to Jena's home

"This is n-n-not g-g-going to w-w-work for me," chattered Jena stubbornly, "you c-c-can't just c-carry me all the way to m-my house!"

Declan tried to hide a smile behind his beard, but Jena could see that he had no trouble believing he could prove her wrong about that. She squirmed out of his arms and suddenly landed on the chair in the middle of the rubble. Jena looked at him suspiciously, but he was wading toward the pile of stuff that used to be his bedroom to look for clothes and shoes for her. She tugged a blanket out from under the chair and wrapped it around herself. It smelled like dust, mostly; but it also had a faint woodsy smell that she was starting to associate with her mountain man. Wait. Her mountain man? She shook her head violently and very firmly turned her attention to what Declan was doing.
Jena watched him dig for a while. She just wanted to see if he was successful. It had absolutely nothing to do with his broad shoulders.
"Ah! Here," he smiled as he handed her the dusty shoes that he had dried by the fire the night before along with the somewhat ragged remains of her skirt. She pulled them on gratefully after putting on the enormous pair of wool socks he found a few minutes later. Declan helped her down from the pile of the remains of his home.
"All right, which way?"
Jena pointed in the direction of her house and they started walking through the woods. They spent the next hour in mostly silence. Jena's thoughts were tumbling around trying to figure out who was trying to hurt Declan (or her??), what kind of power had made such a powerful explosion, and why she couldn't seem to stop stealing glances at Declan as they walked. She was grateful that he had saved her, of course. And just the fact that he had the right herbs on hand meant he knew quite a bit about the nature he inhabited. The most intriguing thing was that he knew enough about fairy anatomy to realize that the herb was the only thing that could stimulate the right energy paths to help her breathe again. And then there was this strange attraction to him. She had worked with humans before in her doula and healing work and had met plenty of single men. None of them had affected her like this.
Jena's line of thought broke off when she saw some rare winter mushrooms growing close to the base of a tree above the snow line. She hurried to gather some and stuck them in a large pocket on the huge shirt she was still wearing.
Suddenly, Declan gave cry of surprise. Jena's head snapped up from the mushrooms and she saw an arrow sticking in Declan's chest, perilously close to where his heart was. A black clad figure carrying a bow and a quiver of arrows jumped lightly down from a tree a little way into the forest and disappeared. What was going on??
At least she was well-trained for situations like this. Even the mushrooms came in handy to help staunch the bleeding as she carefully removed the arrow. Declan's face was gray and his eyes closed. Jena had to use her own magic more than once to seal off bleeding vessels inside his chest and to repair a nick on the side of his heart wall. By the time she was finished saving his life, she was drained. It had grown dark; her healing had taken most of the afternoon. She dragged Declan's heavy weight into a small hollow sheltered by several trees and mostly free of snow. She wrapped them both in the blanket she had been using as a cloak and set a ward of warmth closely around their bodies as night fell and she fell into  an exhausted sleep. At least Declan's face looked better, and his breathing sounded easier. As she drifted off, the thought pulsed in her mind over and over... what was going on?

and suddenly, there was an explosion

Jena pulled on the extremely large blue flannel shirt she found folded up on the chair and crawled into the large bed and collapsed. She slept well, despite everything that had happened. She was tired from her healing, and the bed was quite comfortable with its piles of feather comforters and pillows. A small voice in the back of her mind tried to speak up and ask irritating questions like why was she in a strange man's bed, and is it even safe here, and does Declan follow the accords of the forest folk, and did she see a packet of lavender at the door for protection? Or not?

Jena blissfully slept on, ignoring the questions that would have spurred her into sneaking out of the cottage if it had been any other situation.

The next morning, as the day dawned gray and cold outside the thick-glassed window, Jena slowly opened her eyes. Something was terribly wrong. It wasn't the bed or the man's shirt she was wearing… It was her fairy sense buzzing wildly. There was energy outside that was massive, strong, and malicious.

Jena sat up quickly and started to get out of bed and yell for Declan when the world exploded around her. She put her arms over her head and huddled as small as she could as she was pushed by an invisible force off the bed and onto the floor. The walls bulged outward and shattered, while the ceiling crashed down in pieces.  And then all was still.

The cold air outside mixed with the dust and debris still in the air, and Jena started to cough uncontrollably. The dark energy was suddenly gone, but the cottage lay in ruin around her. All around her. She slowly straightened, still trying to catch her breath, and noticed that she sat in a small but perfect circle of clear floor. There was strong protective magic at work, but it wasn't hers.

"Declan!" she finally managed to call out between coughs, "Are you all right? Declan??"

Jena heard a faint moan coming from the front of the pile of rubble that had once been Declan's home. She scrambled to her feet and climbed through the wreckage until she found Declan's arm poking out from under his overturned chair under a pile of boards and thatch roofing.

"Declan! Are you hurt?"

"No," came his muffled reply, "the chair took the brunt of it. I just had the wind knocked out of me. " With a large grunt, he tipped the chair back over and stood up. He surveyed what was left of his home. His eyes were sad, but his mouth was determined. He looked at Jena and his eyes widened in surprise. "Aren't you freezing?"

Jena looked down at the shirt that hung halfway down her bare thighs and suddenly shivered. The energy she had coursing through her veins suddenly dissipated in the aftermath of the explosion and her trembling got worse. "I-I-I will be a-a-a-lright" she chattered as she wrapped her arms around herself. Declan shook his head in dismay and reached out for her.

"I have to warm you up," he said, "or you'll freeze. My body heat is all I have right now." He wrapped her in his arms and lifted her shaking body to carry her out of the rubble.

She noticed he was still wearing his boots and realized that he must have fallen asleep in front of the fireplace fully dressed. At least he would be warm and protected, but she would have to rely on him for her physical needs awhile longer. How very irritating for the independent doula fairy. Jena had never relied on anyone, much less anyone of the male sex, since she had left the nursery bower to fulfill her life mission in the cold northern territories. She sometimes missed the ease of being cared for by the nursery fairies, but she took great pride in sustaining herself and rejected commonly held beliefs that female forest folk were better off with the larger and stronger males to do all the heavy lifting and protection. Her lifting was just fine, and her protective amulets would have been just as powerful as whatever enchantment Declan had laid on the bedroom. Had she remembered to wear them…

and found herself in a cabin

"Who are you?" Jena tried not to shriek. He wasn't moving toward her threateningly or anything. He was just so large. The mountain man's head was only a foot shy of the high ceiling, and his massive shoulders strained at the fabric of his flannel shirt. His warm brown eyes stared at her out of a luxuriantly bearded face, and his enormous hands were actually twisted together nervously.
"I'm Declan. I found you in the river, stuck in some tree roots. I thought.. I thought you were going to die."
Jena breathed in as she remembered falling, the icy grip of the water squeezing her life force. She knew fairies were supposed to stay warm, and that kept so many of them indoors most of the winter. She shivered. Maybe she wasn't as invincible as she felt.
"Thank you," she said softly, staring at the fire. "It was stupid of me to go out in the first place, and I wasn't even paying attention."
The fire crackled. The warmth seeped into Jena's bones finally, and she felt a great tiredness creep over her. Her eyes started to close of their own volition, but then snapped open. "Wait. Where are my clothes?"
Declan turned from the fire, startled. She actually saw a red stain creeping up his cheeks out of the brown beard that she suddenly wanted to touch. Was it as soft as it looked?
"Oh sorry. I uh... I can get you some of mine. Yours were pretty shredded and I had to uh.. " he cleared his throat, "get them off you so you could warm up."
Jena raised an eyebrow at him. "Your clothes?" She stared up at his massive bulk. He saw her looking and grimaced. "I'll do what I can, I promise." Declan disappeared into a back room.
Jena felt warmer now, a little too warm. Was her face as flushed as it felt? She must be too near the fire. She wrapped herself snugly in the bearskin and scooted back until she was sitting against a large wooden chair that held a worn blue cushion. Leaning her head against the soft edge of the cushion, she closed her eyes for just a moment...
And woke up to the feeling of being lifted into the air by a pair of well-muscled arms. She gasped and clutched at the air and almost tumbled to the floor. "Whoa!" said Declan, "I was just going to put you in my bed. I mean, wait. Just you in my bed. By yourself. I uh. I'll be in the other room. I won't bother you. Um..." She could see his face dimly in the darkened hallway as he shook his head and closed his eyes. She took pity on him. "It's fine, don't--" her words were interrupted by a huge yawn that overtook her. He moved down the hallway again and deposited her gently on a large, soft bed in a shadowed room. "There are some clothes on the chair in the corner. Just yell my name if you need anything. Sleep well." And with that, he shut the door on her bemused expression.

who fell in a river one evening...

The man ran toward the river, speeding up as he saw the walking staff with its top still glowing lying on the ground next to the hole in the thin ice that covered the dark river. He immediately thrust his arms into the water, ignoring the icy chill as he swept them back and forth. One of his hands caught on a wad of fabric and he reached farther until he felt solid flesh, then grabbed on and pulled with all his strength. It was a fairy. She was still wearing a red shawl, now sodden and dark. He couldn't remember which colors meant what, but he knew that her blue lips were not a good sign. The man laid her on the ground on her side and pushed on her until river water came spewing out of her mouth. She still wasn't breathing, so he threw her over his shoulder and took off toward his cabin. He momentarily regretted the loss of his kill, but knew that the forest would absorb it and use it to nourish its own. It was more important to save this life than to add venison stew to the week's meals.
The man crashed through the woods until he reached his roomy home in a small clearing. He was panting as he pushed open the solid oak door and a bundle of dried herbs and bells hanging from the door frame jingled as his head brushed past it. The fire in the fireplace was dying down, so he threw logs on until it built up, then got to the business of getting the fairy out of her wet clothes. He respectfully tried to avert his eyes as the layers came off, but he couldn't help noticing that she was pleasantly rounded in all the right places. Her abundant mass of dark hair would surely be beautiful when it dried.
The man covered her nakedness with a bearskin and then hurried to his cupboard of healing herbs. He pulled out a small jar of breathewort dust and shook some on her face as he returned to kneel beside her. There was nothing to do now but hope and pray the dust would work and that he had warmed her up in time. He gazed at her pale face. Suddenly, she gasped and opened her eyes and he found himself staring into the depths of emerald green pools.
The man found himself having trouble breathing and considered reaching for the breathewort. The blood rushing to warm her showcased a truly beautiful face that the cold river had tried to steal for itself. The fairy gasped and coughed and trembled, struggling to sit up. He helped her sit up, his hand electrified by the feel of her bare back. He quickly drew it back when she had her balance.
***
Jena stared wildly at the giant man in front of her. Where was she? Who was this man who smelled of cedar and pine and earth? WHY WAS SHE NAKED???


to be continued...

once upon a time, there was a girl named Jena

Jena the doula fairy stared in disbelief at the empty jar tucked in the back of her overcrowded shelves. She could see from the late afternoon sunlight streaming in that there wasn't even a smidgen of moonflower dust left. She wearily pushed back a strand of hair from her sweaty forehead and set the jar on the work table in the middle of her small cottage. Her potion cauldron bubbled merrily above the fire, and several specific herbs lay drying on the hearth. She had been all set to make another batch of anxiety elixir for her clients--one of them was due any day now and would definitely need some of the elixir.
Outside, the sunlight was dying and the cold, snowy evening approached quickly. Thankfully, the moon was waxing; otherwise, Jena would not have been able to find the delicate flowers from which the moonflower dust was made. They only opened in the moonlight of a waxing moon, releasing small puffs of dust to be collected by the waiting fairy. And of course, only a fairy could collect that dust because humans didn't have the reflexes or the sight necessary to do so. So it was to be a late night again, hunting for patches of ground where the earliest moonflowers would hopefully be blooming despite the chill.
Jena wrapped herself in her bright red shawl that was the signature color of all the doula fairies and pulled a wool cap over her lustrous hair. She stamped her feet into a pair of stout boots and grabbed her collection pouch and the walking staff with the gem at the top that carried a glowspell. Twitching her fingers at the fire until it died down to coals obediently, she opened the door and stepped out into the twilight. Her breath hung in the frosty air as she stood for a moment and greeted the moon.
"Moon mother, bless me tonight with your precious flowers. Help me find them, please." She gazed at the fat gibbous orb in the darkening sky and then set off toward the forest across the field in front of her home. It was hard work tramping through the snow: the wind had come strong the night before and there were drifts and bare ground and treacherous crusts of snow concealing hollows and rocks. She soon found herself huffing and sweating and wishing she had not worn quite so many layers. The moon rose higher as she searched in vain for the moonflowers, and her eyes failed to notice that she had stepped onto the edge of the mountain-fed spring that ran through the woods. With a sudden crack!, she fell through the ice and into the bitterly cold water beneath. She had time only to gasp before the current sucked her under the crust. Her walking staff lay abandoned on the bank.
Not far away, a man turned from ritually burying the inedible entrails of a deer he had killed. The crack of the ice had echoed and he felt in his gut that something was wrong. He got to his feet and ran in the direction of the stream...
to be continued...