Page 135 of The Knucker King

The plants had bent.

The flora made a passage for her, with the trail cutting through the green like a snake slivering through grass. Her jaw dropped. She glanced around, looking for some Good Neighbour who had done this for her, but there was only the squawking Pillywiggins. She took a tentative step forward, half-expecting the plants to snap up and swallow her whole.

Instead, she felt a thrumming. Just like on the night of the ritual, it hummed up her legs and tingled her spine, making the ink under her skin twitch. She looked left and right, completely bewildered.

“Do not eat me,” she ordered warily.

Avice made her way out of her garden, stepped through Trewoofe’s ward, and into the woods beyond.

Her journey to the coast was an easy one. The woods allowed her to pass through, shifting from her path so she could walk unencumbered. Her fingers had fidgeted on the way, eager to grasp at the many offerings from the surrounding greenery. She repeatedly reminded herself that she could forage on her return home.

No sense lugging it all the way there and all the way back.

As Avice stood on the clifftop, the sea breeze buffeted her, and she flared her nostrils at the salty scent. She scanned the white sands, relieved that she could spot no other villagers from her vantage point. She let out a contented sigh. She loved the coast, and it had been too long since she had visited.

Avice gingerly descended the steep stairs carved into the cliffside. They were slippery with sea moss, and she was unsteady at every step. They had been made and maintained by the many generations of fisherman of Lamorna and used by anyone who came to visit the beach.

The tide was ebbing, and her boots squelched into the wet sand as she took the final step down. She eagerly tore off her shoes and stockings and stuffed them into her basket. She dug her toes into the sand as she ruffled her skirts, tying them above the knee so they did not get wet.

Avice set off down the beach. The only sound was that of the crashing waves and the odd squawk of a seagull overhead. The lack of village noises soothed her, and she dropped the tension from her shoulders as she collected shells. She hoped she would have time to make Trewoofe a decoration for his horn before he arrived that evening. The thought of seeing him sent her stomach swirling and added to the tingles already drifting up her spine.

She could not wait to kiss him again.

She was impatient do other things with him as well.

Avice could not shake the lewd ideas from her head. She knew what he looked like between his legs, and it made her mouth water. She wondered what it would be like to kiss his cock, run her tongue over it, and make him whimper and buck from her lavish attentions. She flushed at that, and wet heat pooled between her thighs. If they had been able to continue the night of the ritual, she would have loved to have done that and much more with her sweet Knucker.

A flash of silver snagged her periphery and shook her from her lustful daydreams. She smiled at the White Horses trotting amongst the waves. Their pelts were frothing sea foam, and seaweed made up their manes and tails. The sight of the frolicking mare and foal twisted an ache in her. A twinge she had tried to squash down many turns of seasons ago when she concluded it would never happen. That deep want for a family of her own. Trewoofe had unearthed that in her, and his words had reignited that desire.

Avice watched as the mare nickered at her foal, who had wandered a little too close to the shore. Much like Bramble, the White Horses could only be seen by those with the sight, or when they were happy to show themselves.

They moved away once the foal had returned to its mother, dissolving back into the sea. She continued her walk, her eyes on the sand. Avice had collected a dozen shells for her planned trinket, and she was already forming the creation in her mind.

Before she knew it, she had nearly walked the length of the bow-shaped cove as it swept into cliffs and caves. She frowned at the sight of a small rowboat dragged up on the shore. It must have been hidden from her view up on the cliff and she wondered where the fishermen were.

As she approached, she noticed two sets of footprints making their way up the beach towards the cliffs. One of the sets was huge, with four clawed toes on each foot, and the impression of a membrane in between them. The other set was clearly human. Worry gnawed at her. She adjusted the basket on her elbow, torn at what to do. Was the fisherman alright? What had walked up the beach with him? She let out a huff. Just the previous day, Avice had promised herself she would no longer put others above her own wellbeing. She fought with herself to turn on her heel and leave – after all, it was none of her business.

As usual, her curiosity won, and she followed the trail up the sands.

The footprints rounded a curve in the cliffs. She peeked around the edge, her heart in her throat at what she might find there. She stifled a squeak at what she saw. The back of a towering male, bigger and broader than even Trewoofe. His skin was a deep blue, and long black curls tumbled down his back. She leant out further to study him more closely, squinting against the Sunshine. Twisting horns swept back from the male’s head. He wore a scrap of cloth around his thick hips but otherwise was bare. He mumbled something – his voice deeper than the sea – and Avice realised he was hugging someone in his thick, corded arms.

That someone was John.

The shock of red hair had her letting out a loud gasp.

The muscular back of the horned male tensed. He spun to face her, a savage growl ripping from his full lips. Before she could blink, he changed. His limbs and body expanded into a massive, wingless Dragon. His claws, fangs, and horns lengthened to a feral point. Avice froze to the spot. She looked up, and up. He was so huge that he overflowed from the narrow space, his glittering blue scales scraping against the granite.

“What is it, Treth?” John called from behind the creature.

“SOMEONE HAS SEEN US!” he roared, loosening stones from the cliffs that towered above.

One pebble tumbled down and bounced on her shoulder, blinking Avice from her stupor.

A Morgowr.

“Who is it?” John tried to shove past his lashing two-finned tail.

Treth was faster.