Lewoisville, Montana

Robin Goodfellow, on the run from a lost love, stops in a small town in Montana to refuel. There he meets the daughter of Selene and Hades, a worshipper of Artemis, Kamaria.

The open road. Miles stretch between the two people in my life that have caused me the most pain. Heart shattered and pride crushed, I run with my tail between my legs.

Meghan Chase and Prince Ash.

My hands grip the leather of the steering wheel, my foot pressing down on the gas pedal. Jealousy, anger, pride flares in me like the eternal fires of life. The needle hits 80, but no one can see me. Glamour settles over the car, hiding me from any non-fey. For a while all I want is the road, wind tossing my hair, and not a thought about Meghan, Ash, Arcadia, Tir Na Nog, anything. Just freedom. Freedom for thousands of miles, draining gas tank after gas tank, eating through everything I come across, freedom.

Finally, when I do stop, I'm somewhere in the middle of Montana. I remember the welcome sign vaguely, something like Louisville. A small, slightly run-down diner sits between a library and a law office, neon sign shoddy but working. It can't be later than nine, yet the moon is out, bigger and brighter than one normally sees in a mortal town. For a few moments, I'm almost certain the crescent moon looks like a bow. Shaking the cobwebs from my brain, I leave my red car parked safely next to a Hummer, looking as though my car is crouching in the Hummer's shadow. I walk towards the door, shoes crunching against the gravel, cool wind on my back. Freedom feels so good. When I open the door the sound of Frank Sinatra plays over the speakers placed at all four corners of the walls. Over one wall is a mural of a wolf howling at the moon. A woman sits on the moon, her long blonde hair cascading down her back as she stares off into the distance. On her forehead is a crescent moon circlet. She is clad in a white toga and golden sandals, a bow in one hand, an arrow in the other. The picture seems somehow significant, but I don't pay much attention. At the bar side there are two grills, a small overhanging menu, a coffee machine, and two ovens. The smell of old coffee and apple pie is more and more overwhelming the closer I step towards the counter. Behind the counter is a young brunette girl, her hand attached to a gray rag and moving it in circles over the countertop, dusting it off. The patrons, only six of them, all seem to be normal- save for the sixth. The moment I see her I am blinded, as if the fluorescent lights above have become suns. This is no human light, though. It can only be fey. Her aura is white hot, blinding. She is using glamour to cover her true nature, but I see right through it. Obviously she is not hiding very hard. Power falls off her in waves like hot silk. Unlike the Gatekeeper at the End of the World, I have no desire or instinct to kneel. Our eyes meet, green clashing against purple-black, and she nods knowingly in my direction. I shouldn't pry, but, you know. Curiosity killed the cat. Hopefully not the Puck.

I sit down in the seat opposite hers, nodding a greeting in return to her nod. Being this close allows me to see her actual features, not just blinding light. Outside the glamour, she wears black jeans, a blue sweater, and black combat boots. Her hair falls in long ringlets around her shoulders in an ombre mix of silver and lavender.  Her eyes are blue, her skin pale, her body fit. Under the glamour, however, she is very different. Her skin is practically white, an ethereal glow coming from it. Her lips, full and pink, have a white line stretching vertically over the bottom one. Four white dots in decreasing size are placed under both eyes. Her eyes are a dark purple, like that of a Pthiklin's tongue. Just like my ears, hers point at the top. The lavender-silver hair is not much different, instead a purple so light and so fluorescent that it is almost indistinguishable between purple and silver. A second passes of staring, then I smile lopsidedly and greet her as warmly as I can manage. She stares for a few seconds as well, as though taking me in. In another faint nod, she finally speaks, her voice like a warm, feminine crackle of flames.

"Good evening, Robin Goodfellow."

Though I do want to question how she knows my name, I guess it is best not to. I'm practically world-know, how could she not know who I am?

"Hi there, uh, shiny purple lady."

"Kamaria."

"Okay, shiny purple Kamaria."

To my surprise she doesn't reach out to try and smack me, but instead smiles, then crosses one leg over the over and looks to the approaching waitress. When prompted what we want, I butt in that I'd like a cup of coffee and a burger and fries. I don't need to look at the menu, those are staples at every diner. Kamaria adds in softly that she would like the same. Once the waitress leaves, I lean in on my elbows.

"Funny, didn't take you for the meat-and-potatoes type of girl. I thought you'd get some stupid salad with ridiculous dressing."

She raises an eyebrow at me, another smile flashing.

"There is much you do not know, Puck."

I'm about 80% she just called me stupid, but I take no heed and begin ruffling through the sugar packets: Sweet 'n Low, Cane Sugar, Splenda. She continues speaking. "You are running away from something."

"Me? Run away?" I fake innocence with wide eyes and furrowed brows, but unfortunately Kamaria does not buy it.

"I can see it in your eyes, Goodfellow. Your tail is between your legs and you are hightailing it away."

"Curious word choice, tail between my legs and hightailing. And you see what in my eyes? Because all I see in your eyes is..." I meant to end my sentence with "the moon," but the moon is behind her, not behind me. There is no way that could be a reflection. As if proud, Kamaria straightens her back, holds her head high, nods, and looks as if she's going to say something. Before she can, however, the waitress comes back with our coffee. I pick up the cream as Kamaria thanks the young lady, and I dump the white liquid into my cup until the once-black drink is almost the color of a peanut. To complete my coffee ritual, in go three sugars, to which Kamaria makes a disgusted face. She puts in a little creamer and a half a packet of sugar, mixes and tastes it, decides to dump in the rest of the sugar, and is finally satisfied. Her sips are slow, a complete contrast to my gulping. There is a stretch of silence between us which is broken by Kamaria.

"I am the daughter of Serene and Hades. I am also one of the few who worships Artemis, goddess of the--"

"Hunt, I know. Aren't you supposed to worship all the gods, though? Not just one or the other? Seems pretty confusing to me."

She shrugs, sips at her coffee again, then continues talking. "It's a system. The main god, the lower gods. Like a hierarchy of power. Artemis is my main goddess."

"Daughter of the moon and the overlord of hell who worships a gaggle of gods. Sounds confusing. I stick to worshipping no one."

"It is about as confusing as a young Native American girl with a father from one tribe and a mother from another."

"What's with the geezers, though? Artemis, Zeus, Aphrodite? Come on, you can't really believe in that stuff, can you?" Though it is incredulous, it is not unbelievable. I just want to see her answer.

"Those 'geezers' you speak of have been on this Earth longer than you could dream."

I snort a laugh. "Yeah, so has stupidity."

"A disease you seem rather familiar with."

Though she is insulting me, we both laugh. She's good company. The two hamburgers and fries are placed in front of us and I woop with cheer. Kamaria bows her head and thanks one god or the other, then begins placing toppings on her burger; lettuce, three pickles, ketchup, mustard, four fries. My kind of girl. The slice of tomato that was on her plate is tossed onto mine and she wipes her hand on a napkin in disgust. Well, more for me. We eat mostly in silence, only the occasional word breaching the quiet. She eats her fries first, then the burger; I am the opposite. At one point, Kamaria lifts her head and looks out the window as though she sees someone she recognizes. When I ask her what it is, she shakes her head and looks away, but still has the look of curiosity.

By the time we are both done with our food, the waitress has brought us a bill. Without question, Kamaria offers to pay for it. I'm a complete gentleman, but I'm a complete gentleman who is almost broke. Not that I can't glamour some leaves into looking like money, but I don't feel like putting in all the effort. Kamaria and I leave together. When she steps outside, she has that look again, like she sees someone she knows. I follow her line of vision into the woods. There's rustling, but this is not the wyldwood. I nudge her arm with my elbow and she is startled out of her trance.

"What is it?"

She shakes her head, unsure. "I don't know."

Regardless, I open up the driver's side door of my car. While I'm getting in something flies right over my head: a dart. Liquid falls off it and lands on the windshield, burning a hole straight through the glass. Without second thoughts, I crouch down behind my seat.

"Who the hell is firing darts at us?" I shout to Kamaria, who is ducked down behind the opened car door. She peers around the metal, but quickly pulls back when another dart narrowly misses her cheek. I curse my luck, but Kamaria moves around the hood of the car, trying to find better protection. Under the glamour of her clothes she is clad in a dress of the lightest purple and blinding white. The dress, which touches the ground, has a slice up one leg, revealing her skin. The top of her dress, though long sleeved, is cut like a corset, with two straps connecting the sleeves together; one strap wraps around her neck, the other spans right under he collarbone. The sleeves end in white gloves that cover her hands. Her shoes, still boots, but now accompanied with a heel, are made of leather, but dyed colors matching her dress.

The darts continue to fly, thunking into my car. When I hear one hit the back right tire, I groan. "Give me a break, those are expensive!" I don't think they care.

A thought flits across my mind that I wish Ice Boy could be here with me. My heart sinks, and for another moment I wonder what their wedding will be like, flashes of silver and white, icicles chinking together like wind chimes.

When I turn to look at Kamaria, she is motioning for me to kick open the other door. I do, using the toe of my boot to pull the handle. She crawls between the door and the Hummer, much safer there. I try to get a good look at her without being killed, because she looks like her head is bowed. Her hands are clasped together and her lips move in a silent prayer. "I hate to break it to you, but now isn't really the time to worship the gods!"

Surprisingly, she answers me in a calm, level voice. "But isn't it?"

"Well whatever you're doing, I hope it works!" It does. The snarling of wolves hits my ears first, then the trampling sound of deer hooves. Low screeches and squelching sounds come next, then the darts stop completely. Silence. "Holy..." I start, then decide to leave my sentence unfinished. Holy, indeed. I sit up from my seat, craning my neck to look around. Kamaria has her gaze cast upon a large white stag emerging from the woods. There is not a drop of blood on it. He stands perfectly still in the moonlight, bows his head, to which Kamaria does the same, then runs off.

"Now," she says, fixing her skirt and brushing some dirt from the bottom, "to see what tried to kill us."

Author's Note

is there too much dialogue???? we just don't know