The cool morning wind whispered along Natalie’s wings and back. Sighing, she pushed her face farther into the down of her knot-hole nest, her body oscillating somewhere between the tranquility of sleep and the pain of wakefulness.

A voice invaded. “Natalie!”

Grunting and clapping her hands to her ears, Natalie squeezed her eyes shut, pressed her lips tightly together. “Go away.”

“Natalie.” She heard the rapping of his staff as he struck the tree. “You will not get another chance, girl. You must come.” The voice rose in volume even as it deepened.

Natalie screamed, frustration clenching her chest. Furious, she leapt to the knothole her wings flaring crimson. “I won’t go! I can’t do it. I …”

She froze. Two stood on the branch outside her nest. The Master. And Jarin. “I won’t do it,” she mumbled. Her gaze flicked from the Master to Jarin and then to the ground. All the color seeped from her wings.

The Master stamped his staff into the bark of the branch. “You're being ridiculous. You have power. We need that power.”

Natalie’s wings buzzed but clenching her jaw, she managed to control them.

The Master snorted, stamped his staff, and leapt off the branch to fly away.

Jarin gazed after the Master then turned back to Natalie. “I love how easily you drive him crazy.

Natalie stared at the ground. She could hear the smile in his voice. At the edge of her vision, Jarin’s feet shifted, but she kept her eyes firmly on the branch beneath her feet. “I can’t do it. I just can’t. I don’t want to hurt anybody else.” She allowed her eyes to wander to his chest, and swallowed hard, staring at the livid burn that covered the area just above his heart.

Jarin glanced down. “Oh, come on, Natalie. It’s just a little burn. You know we all slip on spells. Even the Master, yet only you take it personally. Stop being such a girl.

Natalie flared. “Yes! Yes! That’s what it is. I just slipped.” She stepped forward and shoved. His eyes widened as he tumbled backward off the branch. “Don’t you think I know what that feels like? I’ve messed up hundreds of times just like everyone else, but this is different. This feels different.” Natalie sighed and collapsed against the tree bark, iridescent violet wings fanning slightly like a damselfly resting.

Jarin settled next to her. “I’m sorry Natalie. I don’t understand. It feels different? How?"

“Look. Don’t worry about it. Get someone else to heal you. I’m not going back.”

She felt Jarin’s hand on her shoulder and leapt up. “Don’t. Just don’t. Leave me alone.” Unable to look Jarin in the eyes, Natalie fled.

Even though Natalie knew the way better than any other fairy, she careened into the tips of branches and extended roots. Flying for hours, she sometimes climbed high into the crowns of the trees to avoid a fox’s lair and then zipped down along the forest floor avoiding the treetops where she knew a hawk often perched, but always she left a faint line of purple trailing after her, a shimmering light from her wings.

By the time she landed at the entrance to a blackened cave that towered over her, her dark, coppery hair hung in a tangled mess at her shoulders and her spider-silk, green gown trailed ribbons of torn edges and showed flashes of chocolate skin beneath. Her eyes, chrysoprase gems, flashed and her breath came in gasps that shivered her gown and quivered her wings. She collapsed to her knees and then sat on her heels her head hanging, tangled hair hiding her eyes.

The heavy thudding of clawed paws shook the ground, and Natalie raised her eyes. A great black bear stood before her, its dark eyes gazing at her fathomless below a lowering brow. Berry scented breath gusted against her as the bear sighed and plopped to the ground sending a cloud of dust into the air. He stretched his claws and then rolled over onto his back, his tongue lolling over his teeth to hang next to his eye. He winked and then growled, “How annoying it must be to show your emotions so obviously.”

Natalie leapt up and ran to him, snuggling her face into the coarse hair of his neck. “Oh, Gar!” she cried, and then the tears burst forth and her body convulsed; she clung to the bear, and he rolled over so that she could lie on his neck, sobbing like a child.

Eventually, she slept, her body drained of energy, and when she woke, Gar shook her off. “Hours! Hours I lie here while you snooze! I’m hungry, and you’ve brought me nothing. And,” Gar roared, “and you smell of blueberries!”

He stomped, shaking his flanks, and then lowered his head to snuffle at Natalie. She giggled and pushed his nose away. “We’ll find some together, Gar.” And she flew to sit on his head holding on to his ears. Gar snorted and trundled into the woods.