Free Bigfootloose and Finn Fancy Free by Randy Henderson

be taken to a nymph by their father or grandfather on their fifteenth birthday, and it was not unheard of for bachelor parties (or parties in general) to end up in nymph groves. In fact, if you look, you’ll see that the stage area of Woodstock abutted a grove of trees—this was not accidental. But then the ARC declared that it was exploitive (and quite possibly a risk to public health) to have sex with feybloods. Interestingly, this change occurred shortly after the first unicorn ranches were opened, tailored toward female customers, though the ARC maintains the timing was pure coincidence. Of course, while the unicorn ranches were closed down, nobody was cruel enough to suggest cutting down the nymph groves. And the number of unicorns working as personal trainers and riding instructors increased considerably.
    Seeing Silene’s beauty, I understood the allure of nymphs. And looking past her to the tree, I saw that a pale scar split the reddish-brown bark of the cedar for several feet, lined with char. A lightning strike, which explained the scar on Silene’s neck. A dryad was connected to her tree, caring for it and the life of the surrounding forest while gaining strength and life from it in return. Except their caring usually took the form of celebrating the beauty of nature and encouraging the whole rebirth part of the cycle of life. I’d never heard of a dryad leading a crowd of feybloods to do anything except dance and feel good.
    But these feybloods did not look like they were in the mood to dance or … dance. At all.
    â€œHi,” I said. “I’m Finn, necromancer under the local ARC. I just came here to help Sal find someone.” I looked at the female sasquatch. “Miss, may we have a word with you?”
    â€œI told you!” the fox said, rising up onto its rear legs. The fox transformed, her rust-colored fur flowing into a dress, the white into gloves and shoes, the black into long flowing hair. Her face settled into the features of a young woman of indeterminate race as she turned to the dwarf and pitched her words to address the crowd. “I told you they would come for us, blame us. And they even hired a squatch merc!”
    The dwarf spat dust again, this time in the direction of Sal. “Clan before mana!”
    â€œUh, what?” I said.
    â€œIself not on job!” Sal declared.
    Silene’s eyes narrowed, and she said over her shoulder, “The ARC would send a group of enforcers, not a necromancer. And they wouldn’t trust a fellow brightblood, not for this.”
    I raised my hands. “I honestly didn’t come here to do anything but help the big guy here. I don’t want any trouble.”
    Silene glanced from Sal to the female sasquatch, then said, “Many of us have not been treated well at the hands of arcana. Some even have reason to fear our sasquatch cousins. What is your purpose here?”
    I looked up at Sal. I didn’t want to embarrass him. “Well, Sal here recently lost his sister, and is seeking someone to … spend time with. I was able to use a bit of magic that indicated he might find such a friend here.”
    â€œI see.” Silene crossed her arms, and looked at Sal. “You are welcome, of course, if you can earn the trust of those here. We are all pledged to the Silver, as I sense are you. And … I’m sure Challa would speak to you, in time.” She looked at me. “I think it best, however, if you leave. There is much anger here, and I would not want it to ignite.”
    â€œI don’t want to put myself at risk, obviously, but if we could—”
    â€œYou mistake me,” Silene replied. “My concern is not for you. I worry that if one of my brethren were to harm or kill you, then your ARC would punish all of us. Now please, go, and—”
    â€œDFM!” A voice projected from the tree line as if from a loudspeaker. “Everyone stay where you are,