Lore of the Wilds

My favorite stories are the ones I can escape into. The ones where I can leave be-hind this bleak existence and be somebody else, even if just for a little while. Someone braver than me. Someone with the power to change their circumstances.

For the girl whose eyes always stray to the moon.

I don’t see any ladies here. Just a mouse with a shockingly filthy mouth.

There is honor in caring for those who cannot care for themselves.

Any sacrifice that I make will be worth it if we can become our ancestors’ wildest dreams.

Rereading a favorite book was like coming home after a long time away.

She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t that she didn’t see the wonder in magic, but it was that she knew, too well, how beautiful having magic could be. And how ugly it was that she didn’t.

The colors of the threads were unbelievably vibrant; Lore couldn’t imagine what flower or animal could provide pigments that rich. Surely it was something poisonous, as anything that colorful probably needn’t worry about being eaten.

Lore Alemeyu collected stories like the raven that lived above the apothecary hoarded shiny pebbles.

If the price for your power is ink- stained fingers, then I’ll worship this ink. Power is beautiful and, Lore, you’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on.

No wonder they look like molten lava. She tried to pull back and slip out of his grip to continue yelling at him, but his calloused fingers tightened on her jaw— And suddenly his mouth was on hers. Every thought flew out of her head but one: He tastes like blackberries and honey.

He was, without a doubt, the most striking fae male she’d ever seen, though in the same way a wolf was striking—absolutely beautiful to look at but able to rip your throat out on a whim.

She wouldn’t—no, couldn’t get used to his beauty. His brown skin, moisturized with fragrant oils, and his sharp cheekbones reflecting a hint of the moon’s light needed to alienate her. That thick, wooly hair and those brown antlers that reached through his topknot and up toward the stars should re-mind her of their differences, although she couldn’t help but won-der if they were as smooth as they looked. She needed to ignore how his full lips—especially the bottom one that she’d tried not to notice—jutted out into a slight pout when he was deep in thought, waiting for her outside the library. She definitely needed to shy away from his black eyes that always seemed to shift and move, like a midnight storm with flecks of lightning, rutilant with gold.

When she opened her eyes, she spotted a fox sitting at the edge of the garden wall. Its bright, keen eyes followed her back and forth, back and forth.

For a moment, he looked like he was standing in the night sky among the stars, a constellation come to life.

His smirk deepened into a mischievous grin. “Mmm- hmm,” he whispered conspiratorially. “I know exactly where a thief like you can enjoy their spoils. Come with me.

Magic rolled off them in waves, permeating the room and her mind, and seeping into her pores, heavy with the promise of violence.

The male’s voice came out as a deep purr that made Lore think of an ice-cold river, one that would pull you under to its darkest depths if you dared dip a toe in.

The taste of her pleasure on his lips was a decadent thing.

Lore could tell he was warring with himself. Ultimately, he lost. Or won. Lore wasn’t sure, because every thought scattered from her brain as he picked her up and she wrapped her legs around him

They burst out of the palace and raced toward the protective wall. Icy wind kissed Lore’s glistening skin, and the moon greeted her like an old friend.

Where the moonlight touched the book, it exploded with starlight.