"Humanwood--Fantasy Art Gallery (1)" by Erin N. Conley

The sun held back none of her warmth today, Wilthuvienolas thought indulgently to himself as he stretched out on the grass. It was the deepest shade of purple it had been all year, a sign that spring was past and summer had truly now begun. The atmosphere was perfect, too. There wasn't a single cloud in the clear blue sky, nor any sounds except the natural ones of the breeze and the animals; the brown unicorns braying at one another in secret mirth from their pens, two dragons--he covered his eyes to peer at them, an orange and a green--screeching overhead as they chased each other gleefully through the sunlight, enjoying a rare afternoon with perfect air currents. He thought he could even hear the authoritive brassy whinnying of a wild white unicorn in the trees to the east, though no matter how he tried to squint and peer, he couldn't catch a glimpse of it. A griffon even hopped down from the unicorn pen fence and stalked up to him, glowering down at him with a little rumble of disgust; they were notoriously grouchy creatures. He simply looked calmly back at it; a town elf would have been terrified, but a farm elf like Wil knew better. With a growl and a chirp of discontent as it realized he would get no reaction from this wimpy little elf, the griffon took off, grumbling to itself as it made its way into the eastern forest.

"Wil! Wilthuvienolas!" He cringed. The peace and quiet had been too good to be true. Reluctantly he raised his head and propped himself up on his elbows to see Gwyndolarthuvelwyn, his little sister, strolling importantly toward him. Mum had kept her inside teaching her "lady work" for the past few weeks, so she got a little cocky on the rare occasion that she was sent on an errand away from the house. He sighed inwardly and sat up. If Gwyn was out here, that meant Mum wanted him for something.

"You get your little pointy ears inside the house this instant!" Gwyn's nasal voice lost none of its piercing, grating quality in the outdoor air. Wil groaned and rubbed his forehead as though he felt a head-throb coming on.
"I'll be inside in a minute," he said gruffly, trying to make himself sound like he'd just been woken up from sleeping. Maybe she would be sympathetic just this once. . .

"Not in a minute. Right now," she whined, and then her expression turned smug. "Mum says it's important." Her tone made obvious to Wil that she knew he was about to get in trouble for something. Had Mum found out about the unicorn-tipping he and his friends had done the other night. . . ?

Gwyn flounced off before he could answer, throwing a rock back at the dirty brown unicorns as she reveled in her brief freedom. Wil heard an indignant mutter from somewhere in the pen as he jumped deftly to his feet, letting out a sigh at his thwarted relaxation as he started toward the house, dragging his feet through the mud as he trudged on, pausing to test his skills at hopping back and forth over the fence as his procrastinated his doom.

"Hurry up, Wilthuvienolas" came the order from the kitchen window, which rang as a death knell in his mind. There was no lingering when Mum used his full name.

He wandered in the back door, carefully removing his muddy boots at the stoop to avoid aggravating Mum any further by tracking it into the house. Mum was at the fire pit, sprinkling herbs into a humongous black pot. He stifled another sigh, knowing that this meant they would be eating grape and pepper soup for the next week. Biting down to bravely sturdy himself, he obediently walked up next to the fire pit. Gwyn smirked from her position on the dragon hide couch, daintily stitching the tunic she was working on.

"We're going to town tomorrow, Wil. It's been a while, and I think this would be the perfect time of year to make a trip to town. We should go while the weather's good," Mum said pleasantly, never taking her eyes off the soup she was making.

"Mum?" Wil wrinkled his nose slightly at the stench of cooked grapes mingled with peppers and garlic, but he was surprised at the tone of Mum's voice. He was expecting a scolding for something he'd done.
She turned to him and cocked an eyebrow. "You do want to go, don't you?"
"Yes, but. . .Well yes!" He looked at her hopefully. He had been modestly quiet about his paintings, but if she remembered, maybe this was his chance. . .

"But nothing! Gather all your art together tonight. We'll do some shopping of course, but we're not leaving until you've made your debut at Humanwood!"

Wil bit back a cry of surprise. Could it be true? Humanwood had been his ambition ever since he had seen it in town two years ago. It was a small gallery in a small corner of the small town, which featured all sorts of fantasy art from local artists--humans, butterflies, cows, parrots--you name it, someone had drawn it. He had fallen in love with fantasy art at that time, and aspired to become a fantasy artist himself, and get his own gallery in the Humanwood museum to show off his own paintings and drawings. The people there were a little eccentric, and many were ruthless when it came to pointing out flaws in everyone's art but their own (a fact Wil found a bit odd--who could know for certain how fantasy creatures should or should not look?), but he was still determined to prove himself as a true fantasy artist. He had built up a store of paintings and drawings, but never had a chance to submit them to Humanwood--until now.
Gwyn, however, did not bite back her cry of surprise and dismay. She, too, was pleased for any excuse for a trip into town--but she was disappointed in not being able to see her brother get in trouble like she had expected. She dropped her tunic and looked back and forth from Mum to Wil in silence.
Wil just shook his head and wrapped his arms around his Mum in a tight squeeze, unable to say anything else, before tromping up the wooden stairs to the enclosed loft, which was his makeshift bedroom. He ran upstairs so fast that he didn't see the knowing smile that she turned toward him.

He sighed happily as he sank down into his unicorn-fur bed. His dream of being a renowned Humanwood artist was about to come true. He was sure of it. Slowly he got up as he remembered Mum's order to gather his portfolio, a task he realized to be rather daunting as he looked around the room at the scattered papers and half-finished paintings. He knelt on the floor and dug through the mess, pulling out every work that was actually finished. He realized with satisfaction that he was fairly versatile in his subject matter. Carefully he laid his acceptable work out on the bed. There was a picture of a nubile brown-haired woman with sleek, long rounded ears and vivid brown hair, a beautiful change in his opinion from the typical elven reds and blues. Next to that there was a wonderful traditional cow, beautiful black spots covering its white hide, its intelligent eyes glowing and its horns sparkling with magical magnificence. Then there was a picture from his still life phase; a painting of a black singing-box he had heard of, though he felt a bit less confident, not understanding how such a magical device would work. These were surrounded by an assortment of pictures of birds, various fish (like mermaids, he knew, but with peculiar looking heads at the top of the fins), and some lovely human landscapes, with water falling from rocks, and trees and grass that were actually green. He hoped it wouldn't be too unrealistic for them to accept.

A tap at the door interrupted his scrutinizing, and he hastily put the paintings and drawings in a neat stack, a tame outdoor scene on top as he tucked the scantily clad human woman in the back. He turned around and cleared his throat. "Come in!" he said casually.

The door creaked open and Mum walked in, holding her hands behind her back. She gave him a little secretive grin at him as she stepped forward and held her hands out, and he drew in his breath quickly, unable to tear his eyes away from what she held in her hands. It was a garment, a deep green tunic of unicorn-hide, dyed to a perfect emerald shade, a rare color usually worn only by the wealthy because the pigment was so difficult to extract. He looked up at her in amazement, wondering how she had been able to afford such a beautiful piece of clothing.

She cleared her throat awkwardly. "Your father sends it from across the Great River. I told him I was going to take you into town. He says he's sorry he can't be there, but he wants you to look your best when you make your presentation as an artist."

Wil hugged her again and she slipped out the door without another word, leaving the tunic in his arms. He stared after her and let out a contented sigh as he reflected upon a day that was both starting and ending perfectly. Slowly he turned toward the looking glass on the opposite wall, raising his arms and dropping the gorgeous green tunic over himself and studying his reflection with a satisfied smile. It was just the right shade with his slightly olive blonde hair, and it would go great with his brown leggings.

He was so involved with his image that he almost didn't notice when his reflection started shimmering. He stopped and stood still as he noticed the reflection of his ears start to twitch; then his face, then his arms, then the rest of his body. He looked down at himself in confusion, closed his eyes and shook his head; but when he opened them again, his reflection was gyrating in jerky, sickening movements. Wil stepped back from the looking glass, holding his breath and letting out a cry as his reflection transformed, his hair turning brown, his ears shortening and rounding, his clothing turning peculiar colors and shapes. Before he had a chance to understand what he was seeing, the image brightened and glowed until he had to cover his eyes from the glare; then there was a flash of lights, all colors whirling together into one bright white lightning bolt, and he tumbled backwards with a muffled squeal.

When he dared open his eyes, his eyes went wide, for he could now understand what he was seeing. He was looking into the eyes of an impossible, fantastic creature that was now crouched on his floor. He was looking into the eyes of a human.

And the human was looking back at him with a shock to match his own.