All summer the spiders worked relentlessly, collecting every memory the wind would bring to the meadow. They didn’t leave out a single wish, a single whisper, out of their spider webs. They used everything, laughter, tears, love and hate. They worked all days under the sun, only hiding when the harvest came.

With the last summer rays, their masterpieces were ready. They just added a drop here and there instead of pearls. Then they left them for the faeries to wear in winter to keep warm because everyone knows that winters are cold even for them.

They say that if you go at midnight of the winter solstice to the forest with a gift, the faeries might grant you a wish. They listen to people then. They also say that only a fool would ask them for anything because they are cruel creatures without any compassion.

Marcus was no fool. He was desperate. Every day he thought the pain in his heart would ease a little but instead, it stayed the same. Everywhere he looked he saw something Lyara did or a precious moment they shared but when he closed his eyes he only saw her dead face when the fever took her.

And so he waited for the solstice, the longest, darkest and coldest night of the year.

After his mother went to sleep, he took his coat, a jar of honey for the faeries and a bouquet of dried flowers Lyara collected in summer and set on finding the faeries in the forest.

He walked for what seemed like hours. When he thought he should give up or give in to cold he finally made it to the meadow he remembered from the summer days. And there, there they were.

The fairies were dancing with the moonlight, gliding through the air, their feet barely touching the frozen ground. They were playing with the night wind, catching it into their scarves. They seemed to keep changing their forms, sometimes looking more like a girl, some of them taking the form of an old woman. They had only one thing in common, they all clutched to their scarves, the pearls shimmering in the moonlight.

Marcus breathed in deeply, then he stepped into the moonlight himself, keeping the honey jar in front of him. They stopped, looking at the intruder. When they came a bit closer, he lifted the jar so they could see it. They seemed shy. And so he placed the jar in front of him, taking a few steps back. He was lost for words, clutching to the bouquet. All he could say was: ”Please…”

And the fairies looked at him and at the jar and they knew. They parted and there she was, Lyara as he remembered from the summer. She had exactly the same clothes like the last time they went to the meadow, a sunflower he gave her in her hair. Only her white scarf covered by pearls was new. She smiled at him and then she walked towards him. He wanted to hug her, to cry with joy, but he could see the fairies started to hiss as she came closer. And so he just grabbed her hand and started to run home.

Her hand was cold but she kept running next to him. He was out of breath when they made it in front of their home, yet she kept smiling at him. He was worried that she would disappear again and so he ushered her inside of the home.

And so they entered the house hand in hand, smiling happily.

“Marcus?” His mother greeted him, then she looked at Lyara. She knew what her son did. She knew what Lyara was.

“Mother,” he started, he tried to explain but she stopped him. She wanted to throw her out but Marcus stood up to her. And so the mother took hold only of Lyara’s scarf. What appeared to be silk with pearls was indeed a spiderweb covered with morning dew. Without her spiderweb, the fairy forgot about Marcus, about Lyara, about their love, for the memories, the love, was not hers, she only wore them. Without the scarf she didn’t remember what she looked like, the only thing she knew she wasn’t in the meadow where she belongs. And so she disappeared into the night.

Marcus broke down into tears. His mother hugged him. Lyara was not coming back.