Folklored

A blade pressed to my throat, threatening to break skin. “Where is your guide, human.” Hissed the white-haired man wielding the saber pressed against my neck.

“My... what?” My voice rasped, and the slight movement from my words pressed the blade into my skin. I winced at the minor cut, fearing one wrong word would be my last. How did I get here? One second, I was reading a book in a storage room, the next I’m in a forest getting questioned by a man with a sword. Where am I? His chipped saber, dark grey and worn, spotted purple with scattered shadows from the forest. My mind raced to catch up with my situation.

Clad in the tight button-up blouse and pencil skirt I’d worn to work that morning only a few seconds ago, I was quite obviously no longer in downtown Kansas City. “I had been reading through the new books for archiving. There was some gibberish under a weird symbol... and I read it… out loud… a bright pink flash blinded me, and suddenly I’m here.” I rushed to explain. I knew how stupid it sounded, but that was what happened. His eyes studying my face with an intensity that made my toes tingle. He stood so close I felt his cool breath on my skin.

“How did you get so close without my noticing?” He said, his voice low and threatening. Pink spots still clouded the corners of my vision as my mind raced to grasp my situation. In THIS situation, HE was upset that I had startled HIM. I could have laughed at the absurdity if it wouldn’t kill me. Though I’d be loath to admit how arousing it was to have a gorgeous man pinning me to a tree with a sword. A boyfriend had attempted to roleplay something similar once… but instead of awkwardly cheesy, this was the sensual intensity I yearned for. The actual threat to my life was only a slight damper on my disconcerted horniness.

“Magic?...” I whispered, more to myself than anything. It was impossible. One second, I’m reading a monster book, the next I’m in a forest. Either I died, I suffered a severe head injury, or this was the most intense dream I’d ever had. It felt too real to be a dream, too focused for a concussion, and if I was dead then the grim reaper was much more attractive and shirtless than any movie would have me believe. His focused gaze like a wolf studying a confused poodle. If he didn’t have a sword at my throat, I’d hope I was dreaming and take my chances.

“Layla.” I breathed, “My name is Layla. I’m- I’m sorry if I startled you. I don’t know where I am.” I apologized, but he was the one with a sword and I was the one in a short skirt in the forest. His saber slowly drifted away from my throat, but his proximity kept me pinned to the tree. It’s coarse bark uncomfortable through my thin shirt. He leaned so close to my face I’d practically have to kiss him to escape. I considered leaning forward to do just that... If this wasn’t a dream, then I’d dearly regret such a move. If it was a dream… I didn’t want to risk waking myself. He pressed closer and I jerked away from the unnerving cold that lingered around him. I was acutely aware of something unseen brushing against my thigh. It was cold and impossibly smooth… another weapon? It was much too soft to be metal, but definitely too hard to be skin.

This mysterious forest man with sharp masculine features and vibrant blue eyes. His pale skin exuding cool air in the warm forest like the air that pours from fresh ice. I took a breath. A musky fruity scent filled my lungs. Like fresh peaches in a clean shower. I needed to focus, but his scent was intoxicating, and my mind was still clouded with magic pink sparkles. Maybe it was a dream after all… There was no way a real man in a forest would smell like fresh peaches.

The tome clutched in my hands drew his attention. It was fascinating monster compendium written on ancient parchment and bound in leather. It had to be over 500 years old, and many of the creatures it described were completely new to me. I clutched the book tighter to my chest as the eyes of this shirtless handsome man pinning me to a tree studied it’s cover with the same focused intensity he’d studied my face.

“Th-this book. On the last page there was-” I swallowed, forcing myself not to let my eyes drift downward, “-a pattern. A spell. I read it, and it glowed- and... I don’t know where I am.” I breathed, trying to explain once again. I pushed the book towards him to vie for some breathing room. The blade no longer pressed against my neck but remained gently clasped in his hand at the ready, one of the few barriers between his naked chest and my bare hands. The mans eyes gazed down to the leather tome and his expression changed. His brows gradually unknit, eyes wide as his shoulders relaxed. I released a slow breath of my own. Fangs glinting in his open mouth. Vampire? Werewolf? Had either of those been in the monster compendium? Something white flashed in the grass beyond the man’s shoulder, but I didn’t dare look away.

“A traveler? You are a traveler?” He sounded dumbfounded. The grass beneath him rustled as he slid away from me. He eagerly snatched the book from my hands. Only now could I see that, while his top half was that of a human male rippling with muscles, from the waist down his body transitioned into the scales of a white snake. Not a simple matte white either, one of those iridescent rainbow snakes shimmering an array of colors like an oil slick. He was dazzling in the bright sunlight, and coiled loosely around the tree and I. The thing brushing against my thigh was part of his tail. His torso now a few feet away, his tail had to be at least forty feet long, strewn around the campsite like a ribbon tossed by a child. I’d always loved snakes and yearned to reach out and pet the beautiful scales. The glint of sunlight on his sheathed sword stayed my hand. I rubbed my eyes, trying to clear the last traces of pink sparkles from my vision.

I stared at the man, taking in as much information as possible. “I’m not traveling anywhere. I’m an archivist for the Torn Pages bookstore.” I said blankly, as though any of that explained my situation. “If I need a guide… will you guide me?” I asked. The snake-man stared at me and gave no answer, but I swear his ears turned pink for a moment before he turned his attention back to the book.

White hair hung down his back in perfectly coiled waves, silver jewelry draping his muscular form. A sword belt and thin sheer veil of white cloth hanging around his waist, concealing where his pale skin transitioned to glittering scales. It felt impossible to look away. My fingers traced the small throbbing cut on my neck as I took in his chiseled features. His sharp eyes transfixed by the book as he sheathed his saber and flipped open the heavy tome to examine it, the muscles in his cheeks flexing as he clenched and unclenched his jaw in concentration. I should be terrified. I should be begging for mercy. But I didn’t feel scared, I felt intrigued. I wanted to know more about this strange man.

With his focus on the book and the blade away from my skin, I finally took a long slow breath, taking in my surroundings. We were in an aspen grove beside the remnants of a fire, a pile of leaves, and a large backpack. Whatever force had dropped me here had landed me directly in this snake-man’s camp and evidently gave him quite a shock. I tried to run through the sequence of events as the snake-man slithered over to his backpack with my book and began rifling around for something. Pulling a magnifying glass from his bag, he poured over the book with absolute concentration. I took a step away from my tree and turned to look around. The trees looked like aspen, but the leaf shape was all wrong. And the grass smelled sweeter and lusher than I would have expected from a forest. More like a field of sweet grass.

It didn’t make any sense. I flexed my fingers under the green tinted light pouring through the leaves above. Less than five minutes had passed since I’d been standing under fluorescent lights staring at endless stacks of old books. I’d been in James Carlton’s library reading a monster compendium. A disorienting jolt later, and I’m in a forest with a fantastical creature only found in said book. I had been taking notes for archiving and was relieved to find my notepad and pencil still clutched tightly in my right hand, even after the snake-man took the leather-bound book from me. The notebook didn’t hold any value, but standing here in a strange forest with an even stranger man… this completely ordinary notebook felt oddly comforting. The presence of the notepad, how real its waxy cover felt in my grasp, suggested this was not a dream after all. I stared blankly forward at the serpentine body gliding around the small campsite as I embraced that thought.

I flipped open the notebook and turned back a few pages. A badly drawn scribble of a man snake with my brief summary. “Naga: The top half of a human juxtaposed onto the body of an enormous snake. These highly intelligent creatures are in constant search for research material and new information. Possessing two girthy prehensile p-” I snapped the notebook closed, a blush rising to my cheeks. In general, the monster compendium had been a fascinating wealth of knowledge about unique creatures, but the author clearly had a specific goal in mind. Every entry, without fail, went into gratuitous detail about the sexual nature of each species listed. The courtship rituals, sexual appetite, and even anatomy of every single one with detailed hand drawn images.

My eyes drifted back down to the thin white fabric wrapped around the naga’s waist. My cheeks tingling with a deep blush as I tried not to think about the naga illustration. My nether regions growing warm as I wondered how accurate the illustration had been. His muscles rippled under his skin with every casual movement, his scales shimmering in the dappled sunlight the trees allowed through to the forest floor.

The naga took a long breath of air, he leaned back on his tail. His aggression turning into perplexed silence as he stared at the book, as though its intricate leather cover was going to explain everything. The book, despite what I can only presume were it’s best efforts, said nothing. Slowly, he turned his attentive gaze back to me. “You truly are a traveler.” He breathed, his eyes shining with childlike wonder. “Of course you wouldn’t have a guide. Your book is empty, so you wouldn’t have...” His words trailed off as his eyes traced down my body. Though I’m wearing much more than him, I feel naked under his scrutinizing gaze. “Can you tell me what you remember?” He asked, leaving his backpack behind as he slithered back over to me with the book and the magnifying glass.

“Well, I had just finished reading that book, but on the last page there was- I don’t know. I read the text and everything glowed pink. Next thing I knew, I was here… with you. That’s... that’s all I know. Did the book bring me here?” I asked. I feel like this naga has probably never heard of the Torn Pages bookstore I was archiving, my boss Mr. Carlton, or even Kansas City for that matter.

“There hasn’t been a traveler in hundreds of years.” The naga whispered, reaching a hand towards my face. I involuntarily winced at his movement, and he pulled away once more, his expression bewildered. “You have no idea what’s going on, do you?” he asked, concern in his searching blue eyes. I shook my head. I longed to both cover myself from his intense gaze, and also reveal my all to his curiosity. Would his fingers study my skin as attentively as they studied that book? I groaned inwardly. It had been so long since I’d even held hands with a man, and here I was longing for the caress of a man I’d only just met. An inhuman one at that. Once I get home, I need to get back on a dating app or something.