Once upon a dreadful time

Sighting

Wakened by a cacophony, two Sprites scrambled to their feet on the leaf where they had bedded down for the night. Tiny they were, no more than two inches tall, and their diaphanous wings quivered, the Sprites ready to spring into flight. But for a scabbard belted at one Sprite’s waist and a speck of a moonstone on a miniscule chain ’round the neck of the other, male and female, they were completely unclothed. And at the sight of a black flock circling, the male drew a wee silver epee from the sheath at his side.

“Crows, Fleurette, crows! Quickly, cover Buzzer. Hide her from the crows.”

As the female snapped a leaf from a branch and used it to hide the bumblebee asleep on their green bed, she said, “What is it, Flic? What is going on?”

Away flew the ebon birds, scattering this way and that, and both Fleurette and Flic crouched down. Flic said, “I don’t know what this is all about, but there’s someone on the tor, and-” Of a sudden he gasped. “ ’Tis a witch, Fleurette. She just took to flight.”

Both watched as a dark figure, silhouetted against the twilight sky, soared upward, the lace and long danglers of her black dress flowing out like wisps of gloom.

“Oh, my,” said Fleurette. “I think that might be Hradian.”

“How know you this?”

“Camille once described Hradian’s flight as a sinister knot of darkness, streaming tatters and tendrils of shadow flapping in the wind behind.”

Flic’s eyes widened in remembrance. “Oui, but you are right, my love; Borel once described her to me. Oh, my, Hradian in the Springwood. We need warn Celeste of the witch in her demesne. Perhaps I should fly onward to the Castle of the Seasons, yet, with all these crows about, I cannot leave you behind.”

“Those murdering birds are gone,” said Fleurette, and she gestured toward the sleeping bee and added, “but it’s Buzzer we cannot leave behind.”

Flic glanced toward the nearby twilight border looming up in the darkness. “I could carry her across the bound and leave her in a safe place with you, and then fly on to the castle. The crows are not likely to come across, especially with night now falling.”

“Well and good,” said Fleurette. “And first thing in the dawning, Buzzer and I will take to wing and follow.” Cradling the sleeping bumblebee and struggling a bit to fly-

for the insect was nearly as large as the Sprite-Flic followed Fleurette through the dark marge, Buzzer shifting uneasily in the embrace yet not awakening. On the far side of the border, Fleurette led Flic to a broad oak, and out at the end of one arm of the tree she found a suitable leaf to settle on.

Flic set Buzzer down, and then offered Fleurette the epee, but Fleurette refused, saying, “Buzzer will be my protector, cheri. Go you now, and swiftly, for a witch to be in the Springwood is an ill omen.”

Flic nodded and kissed Fleurette and leapt into the air, and soon he was lost against the deepening purple of the failing twilight sky.