The Lending Library
C. L. Kraemer
clkraemer@hotmail.com
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Faeries try to fit into the human world
when the forest where they make their home is destroyed by a mysterious enemy.
EXCERPT
Chapter One
Ailidh wobbled precariously
on her high heels.
Kayne smirked. "Having
problems, dear?"
"Shut up!" she
snapped. "I need to practice this until I get it right. We don’t really
have many options left open to us, Kayne. You had better practice, too."
He stopped and steadied
himself on the railing of the porch. He wriggled his feet out of the closed
leather shoes that encased them.
"I don’t know why you
insist we wear these ridiculous articles of clothing. This long-sleeved shirt
cuts off the circulation to my hands not to mention the lack of space for my
wings and these long pants chap my legs.
"Worst of all, are
these horrendous leather shoes. They pinch and make my feet swell. Why do we
have to go through all of this? I don’t understand." Kayne grumbled.
Ailidh sighed and slowly, patiently explained to him, once again,
why they were practicing.
"Remember last
Wednesday when Keegan and Connal lost their dwelling? The sound of their tree
crashing to the ground was deafening. The Others are moving out more and more.
We will lose our home if we don’t act first. Now, put your shoes back on and
walk for just five more minutes."
Kayne wrestled his shirt off
and threw it to the porch’s deck. He pulled the long pants off his body and
left them in a heap next to the shirt. Bending forward, he touched his toes
gingerly as he gradually unfurled his lacey wings. Slowly, he pulled himself to
an upright position. Shoulders back, wings completely expanded, he lifted his
18-inch form to its full height and looked at Ailidh defiantly.
"I don’t need to fit
into the Others’ world. They need to adjust themselves to my world and leave us
alone."
Ailidh, teetering, grabbed
the lower railing of the porch and shook her head.
"Kayne, most of the
Others don’t even know we exist. How can they adjust to something they don’t
even believe?"
"They adjust to
animals, don’t they?"
"The animals chose to
be seen. We did not. Remember? Our great, great grandfathers took a vote and
decided we would endanger ourselves more if we continued to be visible to the
Others. At that time, they didn’t have all the machinery they have now. They
moved into our lands at a slower pace. Now, put on the clothes and try to
adjust."
"No." Kayne kicked
at the clothing on the porch. "I’m going to get a magazine and a cup of
coffee. You can stand here and practice day and night for all I care."
He turned on his heels and
lifted himself off the ground with his delicate appendages. He lazily winged
his way into the open window of the building marked Lending Library.
Hovering until he landed on
the balls of his feet, he folded the wings tight to his torso and walked to the
corner of the building signed Coffee Shop. He sat in a small chair snugged
close to the matching table. Sliding the Newsweek someone had tossed on the
table toward him, he flipped through the pages. Minimized for easier handling,
the magazine was still large enough to require both of his hands to turn the
pages. A diminutive nymph in a waitress uniform with a "Chrissy"
nametag took his order for a latte. Ten minutes later, she returned with the
steaming liquid in a cup.
"Thanks, Chrissy."
Kayne picked up the cup carefully and took a sip.
"No problem,
Kayne," she had a surprisingly deep voice for a nymph. "Where’s
Ailidh?"
Kayne jerked a thumb over
his shoulder toward the front porch.
"Practicing," he
grunted.
"Oh," Chrissy
mopped the table next to Kayne’s with a wet rag then flew daintily to the
kitchen with the dirty cups and saucers she’d picked up. One of the resident
dryads of the valley, Chrissy was living in the tree behind the Lending
Library. Her home across the meadow had been one of the first destroyed.
Ailidh is right. Kayne frowned at the silent admission. The Others were invading his
world with frightening, swift, uncaring swaths into the forestlands. Soon there
wouldn’t be an Ancient tree left. While, at a glance, their movements seemed
random, even careless, Kayne had noted a pattern, albeit haphazard, to their
actions. Months earlier he’d watched from a safe distance as the huge
screeching yellow machines ripped up his ancient wood friends and squashed
their bodies beneath armored tracks. He could never be sure whether the
squealing had been the old trees or the vicious yellow machines. After the
first occasion of watching as they destroyed a sea of Ancients, Kayne had left
on shaky wings and flown home. Ailidh was furious at him, thinking he’d been
with his friends drinking honeysuckle wine. He couldn’t stop throwing up long
enough to tell her what he’d seen.
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