Long before her ancestors had dipped their toes into beekeeping, these meadows—the whole mountain, the whole world—had flourished under the hand of nature herself. It was the natural state of things to survive, regardless of human interference. Sometimes in spite of it.
Another honeybee landed on the tip of her nose, making Eva laugh. She should have thought of this the moment she and Arthur found the hive boxes empty, but her grief had overwhelmed her judgment. She’d forgotten what her father had taught her, that where there is life, there are always bees.
When the bee on her nose took flight, Eva grabbed her walking stick in one arm, tucking Bug under the other as she hobbled after it.
Arthur followed close behind as the bees led them deeper intothe belly of the woods, the meadow and river shrinking behind them. Eva knew they were close when the droning hive grew louder, and she held her breath as she approached a large, fallen chestnut and caught sight of tunnels of golden honeycomb constructed in its hollow.
There was a scar bisecting the trunk, the bark long split and overgrown with moss. The death of the great giant had given way to new life in all its forms. The never-ending cycle of death and rebirth had always been one of Eva’s favorite things about the forest. She’d tried to show that to Arthur. He thought what he could do was wrong, wicked even. But a fallen tree wasn’t wicked. Neither was mulch, or the rotting fertilizer under the leaves that turned dead things into new possibilities.
Arthur was just like that.
“We did it.” Arthur sounded stunned as he stepped toward the wild hive.
“Wait.” Eva held out a hand, eyeing the bees carefully. Some honeybees could learn the faces of their keepers. That had served Eva and her family well. But these bees didn’t know them. They might draw near in curiosity, but they wouldn’t trust Eva, especially once she and Arthur took what they’d come for.
The forest floor beneath her was saturating into a more vibrant shade of green, her rush of excitement pulling the plants into germination. There was a large branch from the same snag lying in the grass nearby. Eva knelt before it, sending insects squiggling away as she pried off a bit of the outer bark to use as a makeshift scoop.
The buzzing intensified.
“I can do it,” Arthur said.
She wanted to kiss him. “Don’t be stupid,” she said, puttinga hand to his chest and pushing him slightly back. He already looked ready to topple.
Arthur caught her wrist. “But you—”
“Haven’t been stung in years,” Eva said brightly, though she had a feeling that was about to change. But she was also the quicker healer between them, and something about this moment felt like it belonged to her. She’d been the one to suggest they find the honey in the first place.
A vision of Dad flashed before her eyes as she neared the hive and crouched beside the beautiful, intricate design of comb work. “I won’t take much,” she promised. Then she carved the bark into the honeycomb. The bees frenzied immediately, and just as Eva had expected, one of them stung her on the arm, then a second, then a third. She cried out, shoving to her feet and stepping back, back, back, into the safety of the trees. Sticky honey slid into the gaps between her fingers, but a large chunk of honeycomb sat glued to the section of bark she’d used.
Arthur’s hands came around her upper arms. “Let’s go,” he said roughly.
Eva could already feel her stung skin beginning to swell, the bee venom triggering a rush of heat and pain. Tears came to her eyes.
But it was worth it.
Arthur guided her away from the hive, looping one arm around her shoulders to help Eva keep her weight off her foot. When she thought of Dad, her heart swelled. They’d done it. She couldn’t believe it!
What are you doing?
Eva gasped and dropped the honeycomb. Lotties burst through the soil at her feet, startled into life with the force of Eva’s surprise.
“Who’s there?” Arthur demanded. He snatched the honeycomb off the ground.
The voice sighed, a hollow sadness spilling through the breeze around them. As Eva watched, the trees before them twisted their branches with a sharp, unnatural crack. It wasn’t a gentle transformation but a brutal uprooting of parts. The aspens groaned as the branches reshaped into a nearly human form, fluttering leaves flattening themselves against the pale bark in an eldritch mockery of skin.
The figure cocked her head to one side.You don’t recognize me.
Eva couldn’t tell if there was a question in those words or not. “Who are you?” she asked, unable to keep the shake out of her voice.
We’ve met before, beekeeper.A slash opened where a mouth might have been had she been flesh instead of forest. The strange, almost Cheshire smile sent a bone-chilling shiver down Eva’s back.Or do you not remember?
Eva’s pulse raced. When she’d seen this creature at the edge of the river, she’d brushed it aside as a trick of the mind. Now she faltered.
I suppose it has been years.
Arthur stepped forward, taking Eva’s hand in his as he put his body between her and the possibility of danger.
The figure seethed.Creature of want. You think I don’t see you behind his eyes?
