The child was four years of age.

Truss was still his favourite person to annoy, Loch and Liddy were still smitten with their job, the cottage was still isolated.

Not much had changed in the last season's cycle. Not much needed to.

The only real change was that Hyacinthe was receiving lessons for the first time. Proper lessons, not the kind that were in response to a question asked, not spur of the moment, and not the kind that happened without a curriculum to draw from.

Hyacinthe took to the information offered like a duck to water. Or a fish. One of those.

He loved to learn.

--

They'd come from nowhere. They were clearly in a search formation, just within sight of each other.

It wasn't too hard to avoid them. The Wood was not a friend to them, after all. It was friend and guardian to Hyacinthe and its Named. Truss was able to hide Hyacinthe from the searchers and put in a request with the Wood. "Let them follow false paths, let them miss the boy's home and guardians," he requested.

"Pwease," Hyacinthe put in. He was polite that way.

The Wood liked his politeness and offered its agreement. Truss didn't bother to tell Hyacinthe this. It didn't matter in the long run, and it was apt to put the wrong ideas into the four-year-old boy's head. The Wood was fickle. One day it would help you, the next it would ignore you.

Above the trees, the crows in their native forms were unable to get their bearings among the ever-shifting branches and the close crowns of the trees. Around Truss and Hyacinthe, the vestiges of the searches were going out of sight, of Truss and of each other. Below, Truss could feel the Wood humming in self-satisfaction.

"The bwanches," Hyacinthe whispered.

Truss nodded. The branches of the bushes around them were closing like an envelope, hiding them further. "Let's go," Truss said, even though the bushes would be the safest place. The Wood usually knew best. But the Wood was not, itself, interested in the safety of everyone within it.

"Woch n' Widdy?"

"That's right. We need to get to Loch and Liddy," Trus said. He stood and then lifted the child into his arms. He was irritated by how habitual the motion was. Irritation could wait, though. The Wood might not try and hide away Loch or Liddy. And neither Loch nor Liddy would know that the minion of the Usurper were combing the Wood, looking for the Cursed child. "We need to tell them about the crows."

"The people-cwows and the birb-cwows?" So trusting.

"Yes," Truss agreed. He stepped out of the bushes, brushing clinging branches away from himself and pulling Hyacinthe away from creeping vines. He then glanced to his left and to his right. For a long moment, the Wood was deathly silent.

Part of Truss wanted to leave Hyacinthe in the Wood's care. The Wood would hide him, after all. But Truss knew better. Hyacinthe could not be left alone like that. And Loch and Liddy needed to be warned, hid away. And, as Florus and Faunus, Loch and Liddy could cast wards around the cottage and throughout the Wood, to hopefully ward off future incursions of the Usurper's minions.

A branch snapped and Truss felt himself freeze in anticipation.

"Twuss," Hyacinthe ducked against his shoulder. "A people-cwow..."

"Of course."

The moment remained tense as Truss slowly turned to face the creature. The Usurper's transfigured bird demon stood there, looking like any other person. He looked as startled as Truss felt. And hesitant.

Human. Too human.

But it was an agent of the enemy. An agent of the creature haunting Hyacinthe's future.

Were the Usurper not so petty, not known for such stubborn pursuits of the things and people that offended him, the agent might not have meant so much. But the King Anthelm had hidden the prince, the Cursed Prince, and the Usurper would never take kindly to that.

Truss dropped Hyacinthe and fled at the crow demon.

Hyacinthe gasped, but otherwise didn't make any noises. If he was smart, he would creep back into the bushes that Truss had carried him out of. Unfortunately, he wasn't smart, he was four. Therefore, he didn't exercise the wisdom of re-hiding himself. He sat there and watched as Truss grabbed the crow before it could transform. He watched as Truss sent a knee into the agent's gut, kicked his side, and disabled him with vicious efficiency.

He then watched as Truss stood over the agent, breathing slightly louder than usual.

"Twuss...?" clearly, Hyacinthe thought the fight should be over. A flash of movement, the agent on the ground, and Truss standing over him. It looked like a victory. Hyacinthe stood and stepped a bit closer to Truss.

But it wasn't over. The agent was still there. And could be found by the others.

News of the hidden prince could still make it back to the Usurper.

"Close your eyes, Hyacinthe," Truss ordered.

"Twuss..." Hyacinthe took another little step forward, then took one backward.

If there was one thing that the Vita Ignis valued, it was life. Truss may not have wanted the title, but he had valued life for all his living memory. The choice wasn't life or death, though, was it? It was life of the agent and risk life of the boy, or death of the agent and security for the boy.

The Wood later accepted the offering of a crow's broken body. No crows would stumble across him.

--

The child was five years of age.

He could read, he liked to read, and his writing was coming along.

He took to history with interest, but was obstinately against having mathematics fed to him. Only Truss could make him figure his numbers, so it was Truss that was elected to teach him his mathematics curriculum.

The only real change, from the previous year, was that he had grown somewhat quieter.

He hadn't closed his eyes when Truss had told him to.

However, he did not fear Truss. He stuck as close to Truss as ever, always talking to him or asking questions. Sometimes, the only person he would talk to, for days on end, would be Truss. It would worry Loch and Liddy, but things were what they were. The fairies couldn't change much about the boy's surroundings or the people he came across, after all. What they had was what they could offer him, and if he chose to react to all but Truss with silence, what could they do?

--

He played alone. More and more often, he would leave the cottage to play within sight, but outside hearing. He played with sticks whittled down into people and animals, which were gifts from Truss. He played with stones meticulously lines into shapes that represented houses. He played with twigs and leaves that he constructed into little huts, held together with dirt or mud.

He was five years old and acted as if he were a creative old man in a little boy's body.

The scene was a normal one, though, by the beginning of summer. None of the fairies thought twice about him wandering off to his spot -- and he did have a spot that was all his -- and playing with his sticks and stones.

Liddy would do the wash while Hyacinthe played.

Loch would try to fix the newest leak in the roof, even though any time a leak was fixed, the roof sprang a new one somewhere new.

Truss would begrudgingly prepare the next day's studies, or begin to prepare what would later become dinner.

And Hyacinthe would play.

"I wish he had a few friends," Loch sighed. The leak was stubborn. And actively leaking in spite of the fact that it hadn't rained in almost a week.

"I wish that he would play closer by," Truss said, gruff as he ever was. He wiped down the maths slate that Hyacinthe used, then began to write neat little numbers for the boy to add together, next lesson that was mandated.

"I wish you two wouldn't risk him hearing you," Liddy piped up. He frowned over his shoulder at them. The windows and doors of the cottage were all thrown open, as if Liddy wanted badly to share his light orange apron with his brothers. Or as if he wanted them to know that he did, in fact, do work. Of a sort. Sometimes.

Honestly, no one took that long to put laundry on the line. Liddy just seemed to like drawing it out. Probably so that he would not have to start dinner.

Truss responded to Liddy's concerns with a rude gesture that Hyacinthe had picked up, very briefly, a few weeks previous.

Liddy gave a little gasp and put his balled fists on his hips. "Truss," he said.

"Yes, Mom?"

Loch snorted, which earned him a glare, too. The glare was several times more effective when it was pointed at Loch.

More words might have been bandied, but Truss, smirking, had looked up and caught sight of Hyacinthe, behind Liddy. "Sylvana's tits," he swore. Hyacinthe hadn't been in that spot two seconds ago. And, if he had, then he probably needed to be checked for magic giftings. "Hyacinthe, don't scare me like that. Earth Mother's bloody bloomers..."

Liddy threw a clothespin through the window, which very nearly hit Truss. Loch took the more direct approach and actually whacked him. "Sylvana's bosoms," Loch corrected.

Liddy made a helpless noise, but turned to Hyacinthe instead of engaging his brothers.

"Hi," Hyacinthe greeted.

"We thought you were playing," Liddy said.

"I was," Hyacinthe nodded. "But then the ghostlight sat nest to me and I gots feared a bit. Then I wasn't. I wasn't feared, I mean..."

"Okay..." Liddy nodded slowly.

"I think he wants to talk, but he won't say nothin' to me, Liddy," Hyacinthe was very careful, now, to pronounce his l's. It was adorable, in a way. But the rest of the time, it was a reminder that the human child was always growing. "Won't say nothin' and jus sits."

"Okay," Liddy repeated, with a little more finality. "I might be able to help."

"Cuz you're a faun?" Hyacinthe asked.

"A faun," Truss snorted. He made a valiant effort at hiding it, but it was to no avail.

"Close, but not quite," Liddy said, infinitely patient. He really was something like a mother. Or like a mother should be, at least. "I'm a Faunus."

"A faun," Hyacinthe agreed, clearly puzzled.

"Okay, where's your ghostlight friend?" Liddy asked. He knew better than the other two did that there were some battles you couldn't win against Hyacinthe. The specifics of grammar, word choice, and pronunciation tended to be a few of those battles.

Hyacinthe turned and pointed.

Truss and Loch couldn't see anything. But then, they weren't Fauni. Liddy was most surprised that Hyacinthe could see the spirit. Benevolent spirits tended to be harder to see, as the intent to help -- or simply a lack of intent to harm -- was less emotionally charged and destructive than malevolent impulses were.

"Hello," Liddy greeted. He was surprised at how close this "ghostlight" had gotten without being noticed, just as he had been surprised to find Hyacinthe so close behind himself. "I am a named Faunus. May I ask your intent, here?" It never hurt to be polite to strange spirits, of course.

I am...

The spirit's voice was so barely there that Liddy didn't think Hyacinthe would be able to hear it. A glance at Hyacinthe's attentive expression told him otherwise. The spirit's voice was also haunting and hesitant. Soft. Unsure.

Not unpleasant.

I do not know my name. I came because of the Light.

"What light?" Hyacinthe asked.

The Light, the Spirit emphasized.

"I think he means you," Liddy offered.

Kindness glows bright, goodness glows right. I could see his light from so far away. Where did I come from? I don't know where I came from...

"You may be lost," Liddy suggested. "You may need help being sent on."

The spirit seemed to gain a bit more form for a moment, as if the action of balking from the suggestion had brought out some of its old selfness. Its quiddity. Forgive me, please, for rejecting a kind offer, the spirit said, more slowly than before. But I am not ready to go. I think... I think...

It trailed off and seemed to fade out a bit.

"You fink you have somefing you gotta do," Hyacinthe offered. "Or see!"

Yes. Something... something...

"Well, forcing a spirit is dangerous, anyway. So, I won't get in your way," Liddy offered. "Good luck, spirit. If you ever wish help casting off the chains of this world, I am at your service."

Thank you, the spirit seemed to glow a bit warmer and brighter, bouncing around without the constraints of gravity to hold it back. Thank you, faerie. Thank you, human child.

If Hyacinthe or Liddy had been about to say anything more, they lost their chance as the spirit blipped out of being. It seemed to regain physical form, if a ball of light could be considered physical form, a moderate distance off. Then it blipped-reappeared again. Each reappearance saw the light further away.

"I like him," Hyacinthe whispered.

"Oh," Liddy blinked down at him. "That's nice." Making friends with spirits, however, was generally the field of the necromancer, not the little boy. Liddy rather hoped the spirit would not return to Hyacinthe. Then felt guilty for thinking so. Wouldn't the boy benefit from more friendly presences? Even a ghostlight that didn't know its name or why it was still around?

"Well, if you two crazies are done talking to the thin air, there's laundry that needs hanging and water that needs boiling," Truss said. "I mean," Truss watched Liddy open his mouth and interrupted with a purposeful tone, "unless you want to teach mathematics, on the morrow?"

Liddy snapped his mouth shut and thought for a moment. "I will be in soon," he said, turning back to his bucket of clothespins and his basket of laundry items.

"Can I help?" Hyacinthus asked.

Liddy answered with a smile, by putting a clothespin in Hyacinthe's hand.

--

The child was six years of age.

Truss was, of course, still his favourite person. Maths were still his least favourite activity. Reading had grown dull for him, when he ran out of things he could comfortably read, or which he could have others read. It was a neverending struggle to attempt the bringing of new books into the house, to keep feeding Hyacinthe's curiosity and academic nature.

Not much had changed since the previous spring, except that Liddy sometimes saw a ball of light either on the edge of the cottage's clearing or near Hyacinthe.

The only real change was that the little boy seemed to have taken to disappearing into the Woods until he was too far to be seen from the cottage. It was good luck, on the parts of both boy and faeries, that the Wood seemed to have an interest in keeping Hyacinthe safe. He always seemed to turn up back at that cottage, at the ends of his wanderings, whether anyone was worried or not.

Hyacinthe loved the trees. Loved the Wood!

And it seemed as though the Wood might have returned that sentiment.

--

The Wood felt closer, somehow.

Like the trees had bent closer to the cottage. Like the clearing had shrunk, but that the trees had grown. There was less light filtering through the leaves, too, which left the air feeling a bit thicker and more somber. As if something were on its way.

The whole Wood seemed to hold its breath.

But nothing was inherently wrong. And the day's tasks would not wait until the Wood started to behave again. So, the faeries and their human charge went about their day as they would have gone about any other day.

For once, since he'd begun wandering off and out of sight, Hyacinthe stayed within eyesight. It seemed that, even without being told, he knew that the Wood was odd. And he knew that it wasn't a laughing matter.

The tenseness of the day tightened into a knot somewhere near noon. If the sun was high in the sky, no one could tell, due to how tightly-woven the trees' branches and leaves had gotten. Truss was the most on edge, and the first to react when Hyacinthe came running into the cottage.

A small luncheon had been planned, the day previous. But Truss had been too edgy to do anything remotely looking like a luncheon. But he had slapped a few sandwiches together and put them between two plates for if someone was hungry and required food from him. Liddy had decided to put off the laundry for an extra day and had already eaten two of the sandwiches. Loch was in the process of trying to stopper leaks that weren't leaking, in an effort to keep himself busy. Loch was probably making the ceiling worse, rather than better, however.

Truss jumped up as Hyacinthe nearly toppled over the threshold.

"What is it?" Truss asked.

Hyacinthe, eyes very wide, pointed outside behind himself.

Truss and Liddy were at the door in half a moment. Loch just continued trying to stopped leaks that didn't exist. "Maybe I should just cast charms on the thatching, outside," he muttered to himself. It was a bright idea that was years overdue. And probably wouldn't be achieved for who even knew how long.

"What..." Liddy pursed his lips and looked at Truss.

Truss looked back, supremely unimpressed. "It looks like a woman," he said.

"It does not," Liddy frowned.

"It does. What, missing the skirts, regalia, and tall human hair?" Truss asked. "So she's a bit twiggy and green, and so she isn't quite wearing enough to be appropriate in human circles. She most certainly does look like a woman."

Loch dropped what he was doing and scurried over to his brothers, pushing them both away from the door. "Twiggy? Green?" he, unlike Hyacinthe, managed to actually trip over the threshold, and right into the dirt outside the cottage's front door.

Hyacinthe was nodding energetically, which Loch obviously couldn't see.

"Hy says yes," Truss offered. "Twiggy. Green."

Loch scrambled back to his feet and dusted himself off embarrassedly. He flushed and looked around until he spotted her. She stood at the edge of the trees, unperturbed by the cottage's hubbub. She was very green, with long dark hair that curled heavily down her back and over her shoulders. She seemed to be more bark than skin, with her arms and hand ensleeved in bark, as well as her feet and legs. Her fingers were much too long to be human or elven, and looked more like twigs than human appendages. She seemed to be wearing either a very short dress, or a nearly immodest tunic. It might have been moss, interspersed with twigs, pine, and maple leaves. Or it might have been thick green cloth, speared with pins of a natural variety.

Her dress, or tunic, seemed a bit thin or gappy to be modest. But she seemed so... unnaturally natural in her countenance, that it didn't immediately strike one as "wrong" that so much of her skin was showing.

She had more of her flowing, tightly curling hair than she did her own clothing.

"The Lady," Loch breathed. "It's the Lady."

"What Lady?" Hyacinthe asked. He stepped cautiously closer to the cottage door, then ran forward to hug close to Loch's side. "What Lady?" he repeated, much more quietly

"The Lady of the Forest," Loch smiled down at him, patting his shoulder.

"Who's she?" Hyacinthe asked.

Loch, never one to explain things well, pointed at the woman.

"I know you talking about her," Hyacinthe said, "I know you is. But who is she?"

"The Wood."

"The..." Hyacinthe bunched up his nose and glowered up at Loch. "The Wood?"