Captured by the Fae Beast

Mallory Dunlin

Copyright

"Captured by the Fae Beast" by Mallory Dunlin

mallorydunlin.com

Copyright © 2022 Mallory Dunlin

This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law and fair use.

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This book is dedicated to all those who cheered me on and demanded, often with great vigor, that I publish:

Max, who edited not once but twice,

Remy, who provided invaluable assistance,

Meghan, Kelly, Holly, Kassie, and the rest of the sprint squad, who devoured many snips,

Ariel, who chivvied me onward,

and everyone in IAA who offered critiques,

and kept me writing.

1. Becoming a Statistic

Chapter 1

Becoming a Statistic

I worked my way up the rugged granite climbing crag, following the route James had taken so I could remove each piece of gear and clip it onto the webbing looped over my shoulder. It was an amazing route, a soaring spire with long cracks snaking up the sides and enough little toeholds to make for an exciting challenge. Pinnacles like this were called "gendarmes," standing at attention like soldiers, and I loved the way the world fell away to every side for hundreds and hundreds of feet as I climbed, like there was nothing between me and eternity.

It had been so worth hauling all our climbing gear out into the backcountry of Yosemite. Backpacking with enough food for a ten-day trip and everything you needed to climb made for a heavy pack, and we'd slimmed down everywhere we could, spending hundreds on ultralight camping gear and relying on natural streams and lakes for our water. But rope and our climbing racks were still heavy enough to be a challenge, as were the bear canisters we had to bring with us to keep from feeding the wildlife.

But, God, it was a delight to climb without being surrounded by people. The rock was almost virgin, without chalk or well-defined routes, and it made me feel like some sort of trailblazer. It was day four, and I never wanted to leave. Everything was perfect here, from the sweeping vistas of raw granite and dense forest, to the blazing colors of wildflowers in the meadows, to the fearless creatures that showed themselves when you least expected it. I even liked the bugs, with all their different voices and colors, though I wasn't as fond of waking up with big hunting spiders visible through the roof of my tent.

This was paradise: surrounded by endless beautiful mountains, the warm early-summer sun kissing my skin, alone in the wilderness with my boyfriend.