"Well?" Antony snapped from the edge. "Get down there and grab her, you dimwits. It's only a little wind. Do I have to command everything?" The men instantly climbed down; the dogs remained at the top with a permanent snarl on their faces.
The little girl began to accept her fate. She would be stitched up and sold in the streets instead of the manor their boss held auctions in. This, for sure, was one of the few adult things she understood. She's seen children come back from a night with a purchaser with burn marks on their faces, or an eye gouged out. They were removed from the cell they all stayed at and throw in a brothel where mercenaries frequented. She learned much about the black market from That Place. Her little chest swelled up and deflated as her breaths became slower and heavier. Her blood pooled around her, only stopping at the edge of the mushroom circle, as if a barrier kept it from spreading any further. She closed her eyes, and she felt like she was fading. The men navigated their way down the hill, inching closer every second.
Then, all sounds and swirling wind halted. The men stopped dead in their tracks as they stared down at the scene before them with wide eyes and mouths agape. The hounds cowered and whimpered, their snouts under their paws.
"So, you're the one," a velvet voice like honey liquor spoke, "who summoned me." It came from near her feet.
She opened her eyes to see a golden man towering over her. He wore a long silk tunic and spaced-out golden bracelets adorned his arms up to his shoulders. There was a crown of camelias sitting atop his straight sun-like that framed his square face and fell just under his elbows. He was tall and strong from her perspective. His moonlit, expressionless stormy-gray eyes looked down into hers.
In her delirium, she swore she saw huge monarch butterfly wings spreading open behind him. They were about twice his length and dragged behind them like a king's royal cape. A golden man. A High Fae.
He stared at her broken on the frigid winter ground. She was matted in blood and mud. Her wild, curly red hair surrounded her like a dull sun's halo. He noticed her peculiar green eyes; eyes that only belonged to the ethereal. Then her ears… His breath hitched and his heart raced excitedly. Pointed ears, like his, but with a rounded point instead of a sharp one. They were perfectly between the shape of a human's and the Good Folk. Even with tainted mutt blood, he was sure her magical properties would be of use to him. However, she needed to live to become older. She was nowhere near her potential. He gave her a sinister grin but sweetened his face when she looked at him with those glowing green irises.
"Save me mister." It was a broken whisper from the smallest voice. On the brink of death, she struggled to stay sane.
He looked around to better understand the situation and caught sight of the traffickers that were responsible for her injuries. They were frozen in place. Their thumping, scared hearts could be heard with his keen ears from atop the hill to where he stood. The stench of human fear wafted down. Scrunching his nose, the golden man's face twisted in disgust. He knelt next to the pitiful child.
"I'll help you, but everything comes at a price, child. There's a favor I'll need from you in the future. However, I cannot tell you in this moment. Even with this condition, do you accept?"
"I don't know mister. Please… Save me."
He got closer to her face. "Accept." He demanded.
The halfling child was silent for a moment. Time stood still. "Okay." She trailed off as her eyes rolled back and she fainted. He bent down and kissed her temple. A pink camelia marked where his lips touched, proof of the deal they made.
The High Fae looked up at the burly men. Although they were about twice his size, they trembled like rats caught between the paws of a lion. He flashed them a malevolent white smile, flashing his teeth like a predator.
"You know what I am, yes?" He thundered. The men made no attempt to respond, and they dared not meet the Fae's eyes. "I'll take that as a yes. Then you know, when I make deals such as the one I made with this halfling, I can temporarily break treaties and laws of magic to fulfill my side of it?"
Antony dropped to his knees and quickly bowed; his head cracked on the ground with exerted force to give his respect. Blood dripped from his forehead. His lackeys ran back up the hill. They crawled on all fours, grabbing rocks that would fall as they pulled themselves up. When they reached the top, they mimicked Antony's actions.
Antony, with a shaky breath, finally said, "Please, High One, this is a human affair. I beg, let us go." The man whimpered and sobbed because of his anxiety breaking his psyche. The Fae's butterfly wings flapped with impatience. The air became unbearably thick and humid. The men clawed at their throats as they felt like they were drowning.
"You dare make a demand of me, lesser beast?!" He snarled and his eyes darkened. "Enough of this. I don't have to entertain you useless apes." He glared at them with bloodlust. "You are lesser then the bugs ants eat." With a simple flick of his wrist, the men and dogs began to dissolve into their purest form. Their atoms tore apart one by one. Slow enough to make it agonizing, but quick enough to show them piles of red dust in front of them. Their screams were primal. Many of them watched their limbs disintegrate, only to add to the red piles that painted the white snow. The Fae made sure they would feel it all, and that they would remain conscious until their hearts dissolved.
While the gruesome scene happened atop the hill, the golden man looked back at the red-headed child and hovered his hands over her. He usually wouldn't have the power to heal others with magic, because he genetically did not inherit such gift, but their deal gave him a blessing from the Goddess. He could only make a deal once a decade, and he used it properly.
A warm yellow light enveloped both as he used what remained of the bonding magic. He started at her feet, allowing the light to emit from his palm to her exposed skin. The protruding bone snapped back into place, and tissue of muscle and skin sewed themselves back together layer by layer. The blood retreated into her body as if she never spilt a drop, color flushed her face once more, and she stuttered a breath as her lungs regained functionality. When he was finished, not a scar remained on the child's body. He could do little to help with her physique cursed onto her by malnutrition, but at least she would live to see the sun rise the next day.
With a sigh, he stood up and looked over his handiwork, finally feeling the blessed magic seep out of body through his fingertips. His original powers remained, and a strain on his body remained. It was as if there were strings trying to pull him to the ground, but he stood tall. With this, he was sure it was enough to fulfill her wish. She was still dirty, had no protection against mother nature, and was wearing nothing but a torn-up nightgown, too short for a girl her age. He furrowed his eyebrows and wondered what age she could be. She had the height of a three-year-old, but she was malnourished, so most likely she was around four years old. The Fae tend to age differently. One Fae year is equivalent to fifteen human years.
"Halflings age differently then pure-blooded Fae." He mumbled.