“What do you want? Why have you been following me?” I took another step forward and once again his eyes darted to look at my ax, but he didn’t back away. 

“Tell me, girl: how did you resist the magic of the violin?” 

“I didn’t. It nearly made me deaf.” 

“But it should have made you dance with the others.”

So he’d seen that, too. How long had he been watching me? His refusal to answer my most important questions did nothing to make him more trustworthy and everything to stoke my anger. 

“Are you disappointed?” 

“Curious.”

“Was it your doing?”

He scoffed, “Watch your tongue. I do not take kindly to accusations.” 

“So justify yourself.”

“And I do not take orders from lost human girls.” The faery’s tone shifted into a threat. 

I took a tentative step back. 

Grandmother had told me to find a high fae and get their help, but there was no way I could trust this creature.

I backed away further, hoping to put some distance between myself and the faery before I could turn around. He looked silently on for five or six steps before speaking once more: 

“You are not safe here, girl. But you have survived far longer than you should have, done things you should not be able to. There has to be a reason for it; all I want is to know why.”

I stopped moving, but didn’t respond. 

What was I supposed to say? More importantly, what did he want to hear? I had no answers or explanations for him, especially since I had no idea what he was referring to. I’d resisted the violin’s spell, barely, but it had still hurt me. Everything else had been pure luck.

He didn’t say another word. We stared at each other for a few eternal moments before I gathered enough courage to look away and turn my back to him. I expected to get a knife in the back or some unimaginable horror, but there was nothing. He let me leave without protest, only the sound of waves trailing after me. 

When I looked back, he was gone. Probably the least unexpected thing about that whole encounter. 

Amaryllis was still fast asleep when I returned, and our camp was untouched, my things sitting right where I’d left them. I curled up on the bedroll and stared at the branches above me. Whatever the dying fire managed to illuminate didn’t reveal any blue eyes. 

I wasn’t safe here, he’d said. If he truly was here out of sheer curiosity and nothing else, why had he helped me get my weapons back, but not in my fight with the violin? Why the display with the deer? Why speak to me at all? Was I supposed to feel safe now, knowing he was watching over me, or dread our next encounter?

After all, a peace offering meant we’d been at war. 

Amaryllis woke me with a kick to the face. While it didn’t have an impact stronger than being poked by a stick, it was still quite rude, and I brushed the pixie aside before sitting up. 

The still-sunless sky was made even darker by dripping rain clouds. I was surprised it wasn’t snowing, with how cold the air was. Disappointed, too: snow was easier to protect against. Fortunately, I’d slept under some heavy foliage and the rain was light, though Amaryllis had less luck. 

“Come quickly! Before my wings get too wet to fly!” it squealed, hiding under the toadstool which had served as its bed during the night. 

I reached for a branch to poke around in the campfire and see if anything could be salvaged, but the ashes were soaked. I’d have to pull out my furs from the backpack to warm up, then. A bit of food or water wouldn’t hurt, either. My stomach growled as if in response to my thought.

“I could carry you,” I suggested and threw the stick aside. 

“With your dirty hands? No way!” 

“Then let’s wait it out.” 

I glanced up at the sky. It would be a rather long wait, one I couldn’t afford. But if Amaryllis was truly luring me into a trap, it’d be against waiting too long.

“No waiting! We’re almost at my home now; it’s only a short flight from here.”

The expression on its tiny face was resolute. 

“Fine. Just let me eat something first.” 

When I grabbed the food satchel from under the rock where I’d hidden it the night before, it was heavier than I’d expected. For a moment I thought some animal had crawled inside, but it wasn’t moving, and it smelled of … spices? 

My mouth watered as I eagerly opened the bag. At the top was a small bundle of rough white fabric which smelled of said spices and contained four bits of meat — chicken, I believed — wrapped in large leaves. Beneath the bundle was a small loaf of dark bread with stuffed full of nuts, along with a generous slice of golden cheese wrapped in paper. Beneath those was the final surprise: a small glass flask with silver decorations, containing an amber liquid that was still warm. Whatever had been left of my own food was gone, except for the steel flask at the bottom. That had been left alone. 

Was this another “peace offering?”  

My stomach groaned in protest as I hesitated, giving myself a few moments to look around for blue eyes or black antlers. 

Nothing. He wasn’t here, at least not where I could see him. Either he’d helped me, or someone had played a cruel prank and thrown all my real food away. 

“What’s that?” 

I ignored Amaryllis and grabbed my ax. I placed a piece of chicken upon the scratched iron surface and barely contained my joy when it lay there unaffected. Still, I quickly gave it a smell and a thorough investigation before finally putting it in my mouth. 

After days of near starvation, this was a feast. The other food items passed the iron test and I practically inhaled half of everything I’d been given, including the liquid, which was an especially aromatic tea that tasted of honey. Once I finished my first real breakfast in days, I carefully placed the leftovers back into the satchel and gathered everything else before destroying the camp. 

“Should we head out now?” Amaryllis asked from under the mushroom. With the rain only increasing and thunder rumbling in the distance, it didn’t want to leave its little dry spot. It had been singing to itself and dancing in circles while I ate. 

“Lead the way.”

With a proper meal in my belly, I felt more confident about this whole potential trap nonsense. I found myself almost looking forward to a confrontation, but that cockiness lasted only a few moments before I remembered I had no idea what a pixie mother was or what horrors a flock of pixies could unleash upon me.

I glanced at Amaryllis as it flew in front of me with a bright red maple leaf over its head. A small target to hit with an ax, especially at close range. 

I wasn’t sure why I trusted this mysterious man over the pixie whose life I’d saved. It made sense given the information I had, but I didn’t know whether the faery’s curiosity implied good intentions. Amaryllis, on the other hand, had done nothing but insist on bringing me to the pixie mother, whoever or whatever that was.

The rain picked up, making everything slippery and muddy and wet, myself included. I was about to complain when Amaryllis stopped.   

“Here we are!” 

It moved its arms out to gesture around us. The only thing suggesting this was more than just a clearing was the wide circle of pale white mushrooms into which it had led me. I hadn’t noticed until I was already inside and quietly took a step back out of it — perhaps there was a point to the old superstitions, after all. 

“Come!” Amaryllis said cheerily, waving for me to join it in the middle of the circle. “Mother will see you now!”

“Where is she?” I looked around, trying to buy myself some time to determine whether this was dangerous or not. 

“Right here! You have to come closer or else she won’t come out.”

Amaryllis flew near to the ground, pointing to the middle of the mushroom circle. 

“I don’t see anything,” I told it. 

“COME HERE.” 

I stumbled back. The deafening, furious voice had come from under the ground. 

Earth within the circle cracked and moved as if something beneath it was breathing, and Amaryllis disappeared into the largest central fissure. I was alone, left to face the pixie mother as she rose out of the dirt. 

A hand emerged first, pale and thin, soon joined by a bald head with empty holes for eyes. She was made of thread-like white roots, twisting and wrapping around each other to create the shape of something that resembled a person. Her chest was hollow, and instead of lungs and a heart, there was a bright, green light nestled within. 

“Come here.” Her voice was softer now, carrying the echoes of a dozen others, and she beckoned me toward her. 

I glanced at her feet, only to find she had none. Instead, her legs grew straight out of the earth. Ah. She probably couldn’t move out of the circle — that’s why she needed her pixies to bring prey into it. 

“Amaryllis said you could help me,” I said. “I need to find my sister.” 

“Come closer, dear, and I will give you everything you need.” She sounded almost motherly now, which I supposed was the point. But I wasn’t a fool. Not anymore, at least.

“I can hear you just fine from here.” 

Her hand fell to her side, her empty eye sockets staring at me. She inhaled, the glowing green heart growing bigger, and the earth rose and cracked open once more. When she exhaled, dozens of pixies of all colors emerged from the ground, all bowing in the air for their leader. Even Amaryllis.

I unfastened my hatchet. 

“Bring it to me, my darlings.”