“Hmmm. I’ve never thought of it like that, but I can see it.”
I squinted my eyes to try to see the core of the efflorescent sphere. Through the haze, it looked like a marble-sized little sun. “Is it a fairy?”
Schwint laughed. “No! Just light. Although I guess we could take that form.” He shrugged. “Not sure why we’d want to.”
He pulled me away once more, causing my fingers to disconnect with the orb. Even after I’d lost contact, the warmth still trickled through me.
“Come on!” He slid a hand in between the hanging branches, pulled them aside like a curtain, and gave a little bow. “After you, my lovely lady!”
I rolled my eyes at him but stepped through the opening. Once again, I couldn’t contain my gasp. As lovely as the willow was on the hill, there was really no comparison between the two trees. This was like a huge cylindrical room. The swaying branches and leaves formed the walls, and the uppermost vines and center branches arched into a vaulted ceiling.
As many colored lights that had filled the space outside, there were fewer than the number that filled the innermost portions of the willow. It was as bright as day but gave off a soft, hazy sort of sunlight.
For a moment, I wasn’t even sure what I was seeing, but I gave my eyes time to adjust as my brain attempted to catch up. The actions of the fairies around us finally helped my synapses make that final leap.
I turned to Schwint. “It’s food!”
His grin nearly cracked his face as he nodded. “I knew you’d love this!”
His enthusiasm made me want to kiss him again, but the allure of all around me drew my attention away. Around the center trunk of the tree, fairies held crystal goblets, bell-shaped flowers, and cupped their palms to the bark. Looking closer, I was able to make out glistening liquid meandering through the valleys formed by the crackled bark. It was amber colored, nearly the same hue as the majority of the orbs. I couldn’t even bring myself to turn to Schwint as I inquired. “Is that…?”
“Wine. Yeah. Wait till you try it.”
I marveled at the gleaming nectar. It looked thicker than wine but still identifiably liquid. Like flowing honey.
Schwint’s warm laugh sounded behind me. “Look around, sweet man. There’s more to see.”
I did as told, and was rewarded. What I first thought were large mushrooms were… well, I didn’t know what they were. I didn’t have a word for it. They grew from the ground and had a vaguely mushroom shape and appearance. They varied in colors, ranging from deep browns to rich reds, earthy yellows, and candy-hued pastels. I looked from one to the next. Each seemed to have a different texture. Some looked spongy, others had a glistening sheen like chocolate, still others appeared plump and fibrous, like meat or fruit. The bulk of them had textures that I couldn’t immediately compare to any food-like substance I’d seen before. Creatures, all fairies I guessed, milled around the space inside the tree, stopping to sample randomly from the mushroom-like things, pulling off chunks. Some bit daintily from the edges. Others stuffed the entire portion into their mouths, or muzzles, or gaping jaws, whatever their present form required.
Stepping up to an orangish, spongy-looking shroom, I reached out and touched the upper surface. Sure enough, it sank in like soft foam and then filled back up to its original shape when I removed my pressure.
“Taste it.”
I hesitated.
“Really, taste it. It’s safe.” Schwint’s hand, warm and firm, crept up my back and came to rest behind my shoulder. “Actually, that one’s a perfect place for you to start, you loving pastries and all.”
I curved my fingers into the spongelike texture, gave a squeeze, then made a twisting, ripping motion. It felt like tearing apart a bath sponge, one of those frilly ones that come from some sea creature. A sea sponge, I guess. I lifted it to my lips as my eyes darted to Schwint. He nodded his encouragement. I sank my teeth in.
The texture was nothing like what my fingers experienced. Thick, firm density surrounded my teeth and coated my tongue—like biting into fudge or the center of a chocolate truffle. The spicy scent flooded the back of my throat and instantly wafted up my nasal cavity, completely overwhelming my senses. Pumpkin! Not the cloying sweet syrup-like flavor, nor the fibrous fruit pungency. Somewhere in the middle, not sweet, yet not entirely savory. For the billionth time in the past hour, I let out a groan.
Schwint laughed again beside me. “God, I love hearing you make that sound. I can’t wait until I’m the one responsible for it again.”
I turned to him and smiled. My teeth were probably covered in the pumpkin mushroom gunk, but I didn’t care. “This is amazing!” I took another bite, not bothering to fully chew or swallow. “I’ll never bake the same again!”
He kissed my cheek, sweet and childlike. “I’m so glad you like it! Try more!”
I didn’t want to. I wanted to sit down, legs straddling either side of the mushroom, and devour it until there was no more. I nearly did, but Schwint pulled me away.
We went from mushroom to mushroom, each one completely different from the previous one. The colors rarely corresponded to the flavor, and the visual texture always differed from the feel on the tongue. Many flavors, like the pumpkin, were reminiscent of flavors I’d had—chocolates, almond, bison, pungent cheeses, tuna. Others I had no term for, but ranged vastly from sweet to savory to bitter to decadently rich. I’d often compared food to sex, but it had never been truer than at that moment with Schwint.
The biggest surprise was the wine flowing from the tree.
I looked around for a glass or even one of the large flowers others were using, even though I thought they looked a little silly drinking from them.
Schwint shook his head. “No, not like that. Not for your first time.” He grasped my hand. “Like this!” He leaned forward, sticking his tongue out and pressing it to one of the crevasses in the bark of the tree.
I started to glance around to see if anyone was watching us lick the tree. Then, seeing how sensual Schwint looked with his face pressed against the tree, I followed suit. What flowed over my tongue indeed had the texture, feel, and temperature of warm honey—but the comparisons ended there. Actually, the flavor was like honey. One of them, anyway. No sooner had I registered a flavor than it shifted and became similar flavors to some of the mushrooms—chocolate, berry, vanilla icing. Other tastes again defied my attempts at definition, but each besieged my senses, cascading over me in near orgasmic waves.
