CRACKED: An Anthology of Eggsellent Chicken Stories by J. Posthumus (read after txt) 📕

Another work of history, he thought as he paused at the end of the forest to stare at the cottage’s steeply pitched, cross-gabled roof. Unlike modern houses, this cottage harkened back to earlier days when buildings were made of stone. He doubted this house was put together using a mixture of mud to create a type of cement. Despite that small fact, though the stones were common, they were obviously chosen for their colors. There was a pleasing appearance to the layout of the rocks. The colors blended together to form a sort of camouflage, allowing the cottage to melt into with the trees surrounding it, hiding it from a cursory look. Simple dark brown curtains hung in lattice-style windows, adding to the deceptiveness of the cottage.

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, he realized had it not been for his lady guide, he probably wouldn’t have realized he’d found a house in the middle of the woods.

“Are you coming?” Later asked, exasperation evident in her voice and posture. “You act as though you’ve never seen a house before.”

“This is more like something I’d find in Europe than here in the States,” Harold replied, dragging his eyes away from the cottage. “It’s gorgeous. Very homey. Not at all rustic.”

“Oh.” She turned to her abode and shrugged. “It reminds me of home.” She glanced over her shoulder at him, a tiny smile on her lips that met her eyes and filled them. “The actual domicile, not the era.”

“To have lived through those times would have been amazing.” Harold sighed wistfully. At her raised brows, his face flushed, and he ducked his head. “Sorry. I’ve always loved history. Though, I’m learning that living through so many centuries isn’t easy, I do envy you and those in the magickal world.”

“You’re strange for a human. How did you even manage to get here? Part of my job is to ensure wards are in place to keep humans out. Yet, my wards are still in place and working. But, here you are!”

“I just drove up,” Harold replied. “Even Lord McMillan can’t figure it out.”

Laughter as sweet as honey tinkled like silver bells from her lips. “That must be driving him crazy.”

Harold stared at her in confusion.

She giggled. “Angus hates mysteries. I’m certain he told you only those with magickal blood can see the place. Perhaps you aren’t as mundane as you seem. Have you been tested yet?”

“I’m sorry, but ‘tested’? There’s a test?”

The lady gamekeeper nodded at him before leaning the rifle in a corner near her front door.

Harold sighed. “Mr. McMillan didn’t mention anything about being tested. Not that I’m worried about it! I’m enjoying myself and my short time here.” In truth, he was going to miss the academy after the teacher he was substituting for returned.

“What do you mean ‘short time’?” Later asked. “Aren’t you a professor here?”

“Oh, I was sent as a substitute for Mrs. Clarke,” he replied.

“That bat got exactly what she deserved,” Later stated. “I warned Angus against letting that idiot take that field trip. Told him something would happen.” Her lips stretched until she was giving him a broad grin. Laughter, mirth, and something wild and mischievous twinkled in her eyes. “You may be here for longer than a week or two, Master Harold. Especially if I have any say regarding her return.”

A shiver raced down Harold’s spine. Desire mixed with fear and he felt himself drawn to this strange woman. “Ah, well, I wouldn’t object to a longer tenure here. It’s a very enjoyable school,” he said. “How long have you been the gamekeeper here? In fact, what do you do as the gamekeeper, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Come with me while I check on Vestra and her brood,” Later said.

Nodding eagerly, Harold followed her around the corner of the cottage. The yard in the back was just as simple as the front. Chopped wood was stacked neatly between two trees, an axe leaning against the front of the stack. A small shed sat further back in the forest. Chickens wandered around clucking, scratching the dirt, and chasing bugs. A rooster with bold gold, orange, and black feathers strutted alongside the hens. Fluffy white feathers wrapped around the base of his long black iridescent tail feathers that swayed and bounced as he walked. A single black and white hen, with feathers ruffled, herded her clutch of fluffy chicks off to the side of the other chickens.

“I take care of the magickal creatures on the academy grounds. We have a variety of Magickal creatures that are used for lessons, ingredients, and also pets. There are also the wild ones that live on the mountain. Like the rest of the wildlife, there are predators and prey. Those that threaten the academy, I remove.” She paused as she seemed to consider something then shrugged. “I’ve been here since I retired from the Wild Hunt a century ago.”

“The wild hunt?” Harold repeated. “As in the Wild Hunt? The hunt of myth and legend? You were a part of that?”

“Well, yes,” she said, leading Harold past the small shed and deeper into the woods. “I led the Hunt for centuries.”

When she looked back at him, the sunlight shone down through the canopy of the trees, spotlighting her. Her hair shone with red and silver highlights. It sparkled and shone like a gem. The tips of her ears broke through the unruly, untamed strands, and her eyes shone with a fierceness Harold had never before seen.

A creature of the wilderness, he thought, mesmerized. He swallowed hard at how dangerous she appeared, standing before him with danger shining in her eyes. Of course, she was also absolutely beautiful standing in the sunshine, her hair unkempt with little leaves stuck here and there, wearing a loose T-shirt, and blue jeans that showed her trim figure. The boots were the only awkward part about her. They looked too big for her petite stature.

“That… that explains a lot,” he finally said after a few