Drawn to the Fae

FANTASY SETTING SHIT REQUIRED FOR CONTEXT:
Tark is the racial deity and avatar of the elven race, all elves are respectively referred to as "Tark". Scyll, or the blood elf, is Tark's daughter. This naming scheme applies to all humanoid races who have a racial deity. Jorl is another racial deity for humans. Tark live in flying, tube-shaped homes.



	Leonard’s eyes glazed over as he watched his alleged father wrestle a pig into the mud. The tremendous hulk of a man was in the midst of being bested by the even larger hog, whose tusks had drawn blood from one of their chickens. Leonard was supposed to be helping, but upon seeing the eagerness of his father grabbing the hog by its tusks, he forgot entirely about his role in assisting his father.
	More pressing things were on Leonard’s mind than helping his father. His fingers tingled as he remembered the feeling of his newest book’s pages. He felt something from them, something that was there but hidden. He just needed more time to study it, to figure it out.
	The hog thrust its head upward and threw Leonard’s tremendous father over it. He landed several feet away, but sprang back up to his feet. The beast charged forward with its tusks ready to strike. The man spread himself wide and caught the tusks, forcing the pig onto its hind legs. Its squeals broke Leonard’s trance, and his father began to plea for help.
	The Tark child’s eyes rolled as his breath left his chest. The tingling, unseen magics of the book faded from his mind, and were replaced by a net. “Throw the net on him son! I’m getting tired,” his father boasted, tossing the boar on its back. “Now!”
	Leonard hesitated, and by the time he had thrown the net the boar was back on its feet, running to another part of the farm. “Dammit,” his father grunted. He strode over and roughly patted his son on the shoulder. “It’s ok, he isn’t gone yet-“
	The Tark child swatted his father’s meaty forearm from his shoulder. His skin crawled from the sensation, and he stepped away from the man. Disappointment crossed the elder’s face before picking up the muddy net and handing it back to his son. Leonard tried to wipe away the mud, to no avail.
	After many hours of failed attempts, Leonard’s father finally resolved to not rely on his son’s help and caught the pig on his own. The young Tark failed to see why he was supposed to help if his father could do it on his own the entire time, and resigned to his room. The book called out to him, hidden from his disapproving parents.
	“How did you get that book?” his father once asked.
	“I found it,” Leonard answered, aloof and afraid of his mother’s wrath.
	“You know your mother doesn’t like you reading those dusty old tomes-“
	“My mother also thinks that the world is flat and that the Pig Farm is my destiny,” Leonard’s words cut him, and his face became cross.
	“Leonard, don’t disrespect your mother,” his voice was soft, ripe with disappointment but devoid of any penal qualities. Leonard had this conversation shortly after he acquired the book, an even that no man could forget.
	He had been searching the nearby town for something decent to read. The bookstore became a dry well of knowledge for him; everything the shopkeep had to offer Leonard already owned or previously owned. After reading a book of adventurer’s accounts of the elusive fairy, Leonard would constantly ask the bookkeeper if he could order other assorted fairy tales, but he yielded nothing.
	The sun beat down on his pointed ears as he roamed the town’s square. He was happy to be there- even the smallest forms of civilization were a stark and pleasing contrast to the pig farm he was forced to call home. Townsfolk were abuzz with a traveling salesman coming to town, and boggled about the wares he might have been selling. “I hear he’s got a brand new cleaning device made by Dwarves, a steaming device that can clean carpets without burning them,” a woman gossiped. “I heard he was selling enchanted swords and armaments from the Magician’s University,” another one retorted. Its wares were heavy on Leonard’s mind, and he hoped that there might be something of interest in this man’s stores.
	The hour had halved when his carriage clattered on the square’s cobblestone pavement. He greeted the crowd and fired his pistol in the air. A flare sputtered upward and exploded into a large smiling face, the trademark symbol of the salesman. “Hello young townspeople of Marton! I’m Mr. Gig, and I’m happy to make your acquaintance,” The shopkeeper was rotund in all but his hat, which rose more than twice as high off the ground as he did. He leapt onto the top of his carriage with a cane in hand, and tipped his obscenely tall tophat to the crowd. He stood in an astute matter, and struck the carriage with his cane. A small click sounded, and the crowd soon became buzzing with excitement at the contents.
	Magical knick-knacks, wizbangs, doodads and gadgets of Dwarven and magical nature caught everyone’s fancy. Almost instantly the crowd called out bids for merchandise, and Mr. Gig had difficulty with choosing just which patron he was to account for first. He did love coming to the country- the isolated people’s had so little knowledge of the great technologies that might improve their lives. As time passed, Leonard forced himself to the front of the bazaar, and inquired Mr. Gig about any books. “Books, books, books!” Mr. Gig threw his cane into the air, and searched through a pile of seemingly random items. “Not many requests for books, young lad. But I might have something for you yet-“ the cane airily dropped back to the floor, wafting back and forth in the light breeze. Mr. Gig caught it, and introduced a leather-bound book.
	“It’s not the most popular subject, but this is the most popular book I’ve found on it!” Mr. Gig smiled with his white beard seeming ever more pure. His blue eyes bore into Leonard’s skull as he examined the book. Upon opening to the title page, he found that it was a book on fairies, more specifically, how to catch them.
	Leonard’s expressions lit up into a cavalcade of joy and gratitude. A flood of compliments poured out from his gullet as he shook the merchant’s hand. “How much, what do you want for it?” the boy pleaded, shaking Mr. Gig by the hand.
	Mr. Gig smiled toothily, and with a slow and sly remark, he professed that it would be free on one condition. Leonard’s elation escalated, and his heart could hardly bear the gift. “Read it, and learn from it!” Mr. Gig told him. He smiled toothily again, and retreated to the front of his carriage. Leonard was awe-struck, and couldn’t think of words that would properly express his gratitude.
	Mr. Gig leapt upon his carriage again with air-like grace. Stamping upon it with his cane, the carriage contorted and closed. “Thank you all for your business, you are a wonderful people! I’ll be back again sometime within the next few months. Ta-ta!” Despite the cries of housewives wanting another new Dwarven cleaning gadget, Mr. Gig rode off into the afternoon with haste.
	Leonard gleefully accepted the gift and held Mr. Gig in high esteem ever since. He immediately left the town’s square to find a proper place to read before he had to hide the book from his father. He was passing the nearby graveyard when a woman in a brown cloak ran into him. He stumbled and struggled to catch his balance, “Hey, watch where you’re going!”
	Her hooded face quickly looked at him, and began running towards the town’s borders. Leonard noticed his book was now missing, along with his coinpurse. His gangly, unfit legs trudged forward towards the cloaked woman. Expletives leapt forth from his mouth in an attempt to get her to stop, but his pleas had no effect. He spotted her arms, clad in leather and knives. At some point, he saw a crimson glint from one of her pauldrons.
	Leonard was not rich, there was no reason for an agent of the Red Falcon to steal from him. His legs strained to keep up with the adept thief as they leapt over small cobblestone fences leading out of Marton’s borders and into the surrounding rolling plains. Leonard tripped upon a rabbit’s hole, and looked upward to see the thief glaring back at him under her hood.
	The sun threw itself into my eyes from above her right shoulder, and it prevented Leonard from seeing her. He threw his hand into the air and covered the ball of fire. She turned quickly, but he could see bark from under her hood. The Tark got back to his feet, and heated the pursuit. There was more than reclamation fueling the beat of his feet, there was now a pulsing curiosity- a thirst for knowledge.
	The hill rolled forward into an escarpment, with a single tree lazily soaking in the sun’s rays only a few dozen feet from its edge. The thief stopped at the cliff, and Leonard smiled in glee. Exhausted and panting, he placed his hands on his knees. “You don’t have anywhere else to run!” His sleeve wiped his dripping forehead. “You-“ The thief threw Leonard’s book at him, then drew her knife.
	Leonard’s eyes dilated as he realized what was about to happen. His head threw itself around- town was nearly two or three miles away! He tried to call out for help, or to plead for his life, but the running had exhausted any form of breathing he could manage. She raised her knife high, and in a sweeping motion cut Leonard’s book in half. The leather and pages fell to the ground in front of him as his chest began to lightly bleed.
	Leonard’s eyes began to fill with tears when the thief grabbed him by the chin- lightly. She stared deeply into his eyes, full of tears, fear, and curiosity. He felt musty, wet breath on his face before she let his chin out of her grasp. The Tark boy fell to his knees, and began to cry. His breath was back upon him, “please- please don’t kill me-“
	The thief chuckled, and grabbed the young man by the back of his collar. She yanked him back to his feet, and her black-gloved fingers wiped away his tears. His ears pricked upward when he heard her knife go back into its sheath. From within her cloak’s pocket, the woman produced a new book to place in his hands.
	The boy looked down at the new book, bound in nature. His fingers did not realize what they were holding, but his eyes did not understand what he was looking at. A cover made of green treebark, whose spine was malleable- when opened, the pages were made of large dried leaves bound to the spine with flax and vines- the text appeared as though it were the very veins of the book.
	Leonard looked back at the thief, whose face was no longer obfuscated. All of her wrinkles smiled at him at once. Her pale green eyes met his own, and Leonard could verify that her skin was made of treebark. She opened her mouth, but there was no throat, only wooden teeth and a lump of vines for a tongue. She pursed her lips, and the bark crinkled. A finger met her lips, and she tapped the book. Wind passed through the nearby tree, making a gentle hissing sound.
	The young Tark looked back down at the book he was given, and saw the page she was tapping stated “How to find a fairy”. It only constituted a half of the leafy page, with the other half in a language he did not understand. The thief’s gloved hands gently touched the back of my palms, and she forced Leonard to close the wondrous thing.
	She pointed out back to Marton, and stepped back onto the escarpment. With swift movements, her arms thrust out to the sky around her, and she fell backwards. Leonard leaned over the edge of the cliff, and saw nothing but discarded clothes, dirt, bark, and the small glinting of a Red Falcon thief’s badge.
	That book gave Leonard a calling ever since. It had been thirteen days since he acquired it, but he hadn’t a single clue to read it. He read the “How to Find a Fairy” section at least a hundred times, but it provided only obscure and cryptic clues. Clues like “Every single tree trunk holds all the fairies in existence, but only the right tree trunk will tell you so,” or “Fairies are wily creatures. They will only be found after they find you.”
	Still, every time he held its bark he could feel the tingling magics that it contained. The book was powerful, more powerful than any magic tome he could buy in a store. Leonard’s eyes darted about his room. First, the lock- secure. Then the window- shades drawn. Next, the light under the door- none. Being fairly sure that no one could be spying on him, he tugged his bed out from its corner.  A wooden panel in the metal wall was revealed, with a small square divot in the top right corner.
	Leonard pulled a small, square totem from a necklace in his shirt. He carefully placed it within the panel, and using the necklace’s lace as a handle, tugged the panel loose. The book sat resting on a shelf fastened to the water pipes that lead upward or downward to Leonard’s neighbors.
	He picked it up again, and a small piece of paper flitted out from between the pages. Leonard’s brow furrowed, and he picked it up.
	“I know. Meet me at the tree underneath the hovel tonight- take your emergency ladder, the main one is too noticeable,” Leonard repeated. His eyes dilated. This wasn’t here before- the ink on the note was fresh! His face grew hot as blood rushed to his skin. Fury, panic, terror, all the negative emotions in the world were ripe in his mind. How could someone have broken into his panel? He had installed the device in secret- the lock was even magic, so it would only work for his totem! He had to know who guy was, he had to get him to not tell his parents. Leonard’s father had been gracious enough to allow him to keep it, but his mother would surely burn it the second she laid eyes on it- and would then turn her attention to him.
	Without hesitating he tossed his rope ladder outside the window. It fell several stories before landing about a yard away from the ground. He set out with his fire emergency ladder, and struggled to keep in rythym with his flying home. With every step he swung. After he was three floors down from the top of his flying home, a paralyzing realization struck him. Leonard was afraid of heights. His joints and muscles locked into place as he clung to the side of his flying metal community.
	It was too late to turn back upward. It was too soon to simply let go and hope that the fall doesn’t hurt. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. “Why didn’t I think about this? I just had to go in without thinking-“ his breath became sharp and shallow. “What was I thinking?” he repeated to himself. His leg tried to go downward, but it could only paw at the air.
	“What if they tell mom?” Leonard tried to motivate himself between quivering breaths. “What if mom burns the book? It’s the most legitimate information I’ve found on the fairies since- well since forever! I can’t let them spread this information around,” Leonard’s foot drifted downwards, and finally came into contact with more rope. He mumbled, “That wasn’t so bad.”
	The hovel juked in the night’s wind, and Leonard was set swinging again. Meek, pathetic cries pierced the evening air, and his waiting party giggled from three stories below. The wind calmed itself after a few minutes, and Leonard continued to cling to the side of the wall for several more minutes after that. After much determination, tears, and pleading to the Divines, Leonard let go from the bottom of his ladder, falling onto the ground.
	Instantly he cried with glee at fate’s mercy. He rolled upon the grass and the dirt like a pig, happy to be out of the air and back onto solid ground. He hugged the dirt , and began kissing it. Leonard’s thankfulness swelled in his chest and all was correct in his heart. Then he remembered why he had fled his room, and his head perked up. Standing below a tree was one of the neighborhood’s girls.
	She giggled at him, “Hi there Leonard.”
	Leonard leapt to his feet. Fury pumped through his muscles, and he thought about breaking his father’s chivalric taboo and striking her. Soon after thinking the act, his arms fell limp. “How did you get into my room?” he asked.
	“You mean you didn’t get the other notes?” she responded, innocence ripe in her voice. “I’ve been leaving  them for months! In your drawers, under your pillow, on the window sill-“ she giggled again, and raised her eyebrow, “I thought you knew. I figured you’d have locked your door if you didn’t like it.”
	Leonard’s voice slightly rose along with his concern, “I have locked my door!”
	She shrugged, “Doesn’t matter now, anyway.”
	Leonard remembered she had the upper hand. She had all the dirt while he had nothing. “What do you want from me?” Her incessant giggle continued to mock him. He contemplated yelling at her, telling her to stop it before he did something everyone would regret. The Tark spent so much time contemplating, he didn’t realize that she’d already answered him. With slight embarrassment he asked, “Could you repeat that?”
	She smiled, “I want you.” Leonard scowled. Seeing his reaction, her voice lost its giggle and grew quiet. Her heart clung to every word, afraid to let them go, “We’ve known each other our entire lives, Leonard. Every year I’ve dropped hints, invited you to dinners, tried to get to know you. Every time you just,” she huffed, “blew me off.”
	Leonard’s scowl grew harder, “I don’t even know your name.”
	She scowled back, “For the billionth time, it’s Stacy!” Leonard had tuned her out, trying to remember some old spell that a wizard may have taught him when passing through town. He wanted to set her skull on fire, or seal her damned mouth forever so his secret stash could never be found.
	Stacy glared, “Are you even listening to me?”
	Leonard jumped out of his mind and back into reality, “No, I’m busy trying to think of how to shut you up.” Stacy walked forward from under the tree and hugged him.
	“Kiss me.”
	“No.”
	“Please?”
	“No.”
	“I’m giving you an opportunity most guys your age would die for.”
	“I’m dying for you to get off of me.”
	Stacy huffed, and poked the Tark in the forehead. “You’re an uptight prude for a guy our age.”
	He poked her forehead back, “And you’re creepy.” Stacy’s smile returned, and she shrugged.
	“Fine. Maybe I can’t have you. I’ll be reasonable, I have another deal.”
	“I could kill you.”
	“You don’t mean that.” Leonard cursed, she was right. She smiled, “I’ll tell you what-“
	“I’d prefer you didn’t tell anyone anything.”
	“-I’ll cut you a deal-“
	“You might as well cut my throat.”
	“-I won’t tell anyone about your antique book fetish-“
	“Maybe I should tell people about your stalking fetish.”
	“-and you help me with a business.” Leonard’s eyes flitted open. A business?
	“What kind of business?” Stacy giggled, and her finger traced around Leonard’s body as she circled him.
	“I read that book of yours. Daddy owns a lumbermill, I know exactly how he orders the workers around, and I know how to run a lumber business.”
	Leonard’s piqued curiosity and excitement fell, “I’m not really interested in a lumber business.”
	“You didn’t let me finish,” Stacy wrapped herself around Leonard, and put her index finger on his lip. “So shush,” she breathed deeply, taking in his scent. “Daddy is always telling me one of the most valuable trees to cut down is a tree made of Faewood- a tree infested with fairies.”
	Leonard’s interest was piqued again, and if he wasn’t so sure the girl was going to shove her finger in his mouth, he would have bespoke it. She continued, “I think you know where I’m going with this- your book teaches how to catch fairies, fairies are valuable, their wood even moreso.”
	She turned him around, and her eyes met his. “So we’ll catch fairies, make them infest the trees, then we’ll harvest the trees and grow old and rich together.”
	Leonard smiled, and held Stacy’s face, “I’ll be your partner.”
	Her face lit up brighter than the full moon, “Really?”
	“But only in business.” He gripped her arms, and kept them pressed to her own body. Stacy’s eyes glimmered, it was good enough. If she played her cards right, it would change anyway.
How to Catch a Fairy
Fairies are by far the most elusive creatures known to man; in fact, they are the most elusive creatures unknown to man, for their elusiveness bounds across the minds of known into the unknown and back again!  Fairies are wily creatures. They will be found, but only after they find you. I have seen a fairy, I have seen its wings and its bug-like eyes. I have seen its giggles and heard its features, I have met the fairy and I have caught it. It became known to me its Power, and I knew that I needed to let the world know of its presence.
Let it be known that every single tree trunk holds all the fairies in existence, but only the right tree trunk will tell you so. Thirteen said the soul to the jar, and thirteen the fairy did concur. Yet still the number rang in their head. The head, the head is the weakness and the strength! Just as a branch may bend, the mind shall. Just as the fairies’ mind is a young sprout, the green veins will pop forth, but not snap. Your mind, Your spirit and Your cleverness dictates the battle of the wits. Catch the Fae, catch the Future.
Al’sana Sityee Nazsul
Hours went by, Stacy and Leonard both reading and re-reading this single passage until it could make sense to them. Eventually, days went by. Then came the months, and the seasons. Time fled from them as they studied the passage, analyzed it, re-analyzed their analysis, and started the whole process over again. Still, they only learned small snippets of information in the year they’d been together. All attempts to find legitimate sources of Fairy knowledge had run dry. None of the nearby clerks or wizards could give rhyme nor reason to the passage.
Thirteen was a number of importance, the author placed it quite verdantly. A Soul Jar was also needed. The expensive magical devices were usually used for necromancers and Force mages seeking to bind souls to weapons and armaments. Leonard hypothesized that the soul jar would contain the fairy, but he was unsure why such a device would be necessary.
“Maybe the Fairy can use some sort of magic to escape?” Stacy questioned, leaning over his shoulder.
“Keep it down,” Leonard whispered. The moon’s rays were nearly as bright as Leonard’s set of candles. “I don’t want anyone knowing you’re here.”
“Why?” Stacy pouted, her lower lip jutting forward.
“When people ask questions of you, they get answers.”
“How would you know? We hardly talk.”
“What time did you bathe yesterday?”
“Around noon,” a few seconds passed before she squeaked and covered her mouth. “Not fair, you caught me off guard.” Leonard smiled; she was easy to get information out of. It was best that he kept as few ties to her as possible. It was only at night that they ever saw each other, alone in his room or under the tree beneath the hovering tower of the Tark community.
“Regardless of why we need the soul jar, we still need it. Any ideas?” Leonard whispered to his guest. Her back hit the wall and she let her slender body slide onto the floor. She rested her elbows upon her knees and shoved her chin into her palms. Grunts and hums of contemplation escaped her breast.
Turning back to the book, Leonard re-read the passage while his partner thought. He rather liked the dynamic he’d formed with her over the past year. She- or more likely her family- had connections in the business world that could stretch across the entire northwestern region of Arthereum. Her father had even been to the Capital of Trade in the Jorl’s heartlands. Their backgrounds differed heavily, and Leonard liked the breath of fresh air.
“Tell me again what it was like in Right Heart,” Leonard asked. Stacy’s long ears perked up, and she giggled.
“Again? Why are you so interested in my hometown?” She leapt to her feet and placed her chin on Leonard’s shiny yellow hair.
“I read that it’s where Arthos liked to stay,” Leonard felt a creeping sense of vulnerability grow in his guts.
“Arthos?” Stacy giggled again before poking Leonard’s short-for-a-tark ears. “I thought Arthos was a warrior, not the smarty-pants type like yourself.”
“Arthos was a scholar and a warrior,” Leonard quickly retorted. “He gave everything for us, and I thank him every day for it.”
Stacy smiled, “What, is he some sort of god to you? You know he was a child of Tark, right?”
Leonard’s shoulders closed around his neck and he attempted to keep his voice down, “Scyll is also a child of Tark-“
“Yeah, but she ascended,” Stacy giggled and mimicked a priest to the Goddess Tark, “‘And yea, did Scyll ascend from a child of Tark to the Fallen Princess of Waal. Thy rage haveth infected thy blood, and yea, thou too shalt succumb to the corrupt blood of Scyll if thy shall follow her into the darkness of Rage. Tark wept for her fallen daughter, and it is upon-“
“We got off track,” Leonard wiped sweat from his brow. “Soul Jars, remember?” Stacy’s train of thought derailed itself, and a bright idea came into her head.
“Mr. Gig! He has everything,” she gripped Leonard by the shoulders and excitedly shook them. “A little birdy from the next town over said that he’s finally coming back this week! I’m sure he’s got a Soul Jar,” Stacy stopped her shaking, and sat down onto Leonard’s bed. Unable to contain the tingling excitement from her legs, she stood and paced around Leonard’s room.
“Don’t get too excited yet, we still need to figure out how to find the fairy,” Leonard cracked a sincere smile, the first he’d felt in a long time. His eyes scanned the page once more.
“What if we just need to go out and actually look?” Stacy asked, tossing herself over Leonard from behind.
“We’ve done that before, remember? I almost died, too,” Leonard flipped through the leafy pages, hoping to find a page or a passage that he simply hadn’t seen in the past year.
“A squirrel crawled into your clothes, silly.”
“That squirrel could have had diseases,” Stacy held in her laughs, and Leonard smirked at himself. “Ok, so I got a little freaked out by a squirrel, so what?” His question met no answer, and tension grew within his chest. Silence lurked into the room when Stacy didn’t answer. Leonard turned around, half-expecting his mother to be standing in the doorway. Instead, Stacy’s eyes were closed. Leonard noticed the black bags beneath her eyes had grown threefold since the beginning of the week. He lifted her off of his back. Grunting and straining, he placed her onto his bed.
“Poor girl,” He mumbled, looking at her passed out body. “She needs more sleep.”
+++

Morning broke through, and Leonard reviewed his notes. It was a three page encyclopedia of everything he knew, most of which made of fluff that he made solely so he could feel better about himself. He looked to his tiny bed, and his hand reached out towards Stacy’s arm. His fingers felt an apprehension towards touching her. Just before they could grip her arm he rose his hand and whispered, “Psst.” Her breathing was slow and silent. “Stacy, wake up.”
She grumbled, and her lanky hand swiped at the air before gripping at Leonard’s pillow. His hand gripped at her clothed shoulder, far more comfortable with touching her clothed body. “Stacy,” He shook her, “Stacy it’s morning.” His face leaned in closer as he continued to urge her out of his room in hushed whispers.
Her eyes flitted open, and her lips formed a warm smile, “Is this a dream?” Leonard’s neck darted back to its original upright position.
“Not what you think it is” Leonard croaked, his spine stiffening.
Stacy rolled over and pressed Leonard’s pillow close to her face, inhaling deeply. “I wish I could wake up like this every morning.”
“Well you can’t. Mom’s going to be coming soon- I’ll tell my parents that I’m going to roam in the woods today, and then I’ll meet you to go into town to see Mr. Gig,” Leonard threw out his room’s rope ladder, and double-checked to make sure that his door was locked.
Stacy rolled in the bed again, “Why can’t I just stay in here and be introduced to your mom?”
“Because then mom will start asking questions.”
“So what? Just tell her I’m your secret girlfriend,” Stacy giggled again and hugged the pillow.
Leonard’s brow furrowed and angry breath steamed through his nostrils, “No. I don’t like lying.” Leonard lied. Stacy sighed, and stretched her legs and arms high into the air. She stood and walked to the window.
“Not even a hug?”
“Get out before someone comes,” and with that, Stacy hopped out the window and quickly descended the rope ladder. Leonard’s index and thumb anxiously pinched and rubbed his forehead as he opened his door and retracted the rope ladder from his window. As if on cue, the familiar sound of his mother’s breakfast bell rang throughout the house. His “father’s” hearty laugh reverberated through the hovel’s walls as he darted through the hallway.
Leonard hated breakfast. On his plate were eggs and pork from their second-finest hog. As his fork danced around his food, he contemplated the best way to ask if he could go out for a walk. “Mom, I knew I was supposed to help on the pig farm today-“
“Plenty of work to be had. Lately wolves have been trying to get into the pens. I get to show you how to set up wolf traps,” Leonard’s old man smiled before taking a monstrous bite from his pork.
“I was wondering if I could spend the day out in the forest, though,” Leonard feigned innocence as best he could. His mother’s eyebrow raised.
“Sounds suspicious,” she mumbled as she bit into her pork chop.
Leonard scowled, “Suspicious? What makes me seem suspicious?”
“You’re normally very cynical,” she retorted, “and it sounds like you’re trying to be innocent.” Leonard’s eyes darted back to his food, and he began eating again. He could still turn this into his favor- spiritual reasons? No, Leonard didn’t believe in any god that required a forest for prayer.
“You caught me,” Leonard did his best to sound guilty. “I’ve been seeing a girl behind your back.”
Leonard’s mother’s face lit up, “What?”
“All those times I’ve tried getting out of work was to see her,” Leonard frowned, “I’m sorry. I don’t like lying, but I didn’t think you two would approve.”
“Atta boy!” Leonard’s father cheered “I think that’s a good reason to let the boy go for a day-“
“-I think so too. Who is it?” his mother interrupted. Leonard scratched the back of his head, doing his best to bring blood to his face.
“Oh, just some girl,” he closed his eyes and smiled.
“You don’t just tell us that you get your first girlfriend and not say who she is! Tell us!” Leonard’s mother leaned over the table and touched the boy’s hand. “It’s not like we’re going to do anything but praise her.”
“I’m just glad he’s finally gotten a girlfriend. I was afraid that you were more in love with books than you were with people,” the burly Jorl chuckled, and dug back into his food.
The boy kept in his urge to confirm that he was in fact more in love with knowledge than people, “She’s a girl from town, we would agree to meet together sometimes.” Knowing that his parents only knew the nearby Tark in the hovel, Leonard ceased any further questioning about the girl.
“I’ll show you how to set up the traps some other time, go and have fun,” The Jorl urged. Leonard’s meal was soon finished, and his exit was abrupt and thankful.
Leonard met Stacy and her father on the rim of the forest’s edge. The fairly elderly Tark tipped his hat towards the child, pretending to have familiarity. Leonard hat met the man at least a dozen times, but as he was originally a city dweller, Stacy’s father paid no attention to the general rabble around him. Stacy’s disappearances at night were seldom discovered, but in the off chance that they were, Stacy’s father paid little mind to his daughter’s adventurous behavior.
The trip to town would have been silent if not for the many items in the carriage that were loose and made of metal. Leonard kept his mouth shut in respect for Stacy’s wealthy father, and Stacy knew that neither of her companions would make for good conversation so long as they were within earshot of each other.
The sun was half through the sky when the pair had arrived in town, and there was still no Mr. Gig to be seen. Townspeople mumbled rumors of his carriage being sacked by Scyll. Even more proclaimed that said bandit crew must be butchering the good Gig at the very instant. A few scattered men and women proclaimed that such a feat would be impossible, for Mr. Gig was a legend with his cane- a deadlier weapon than a gun or a sword!
Leonard and Stacy sat on the rim of Town Square’s water fountain. “I wonder why every town square has a water fountain,” Stacy mused. Leonard’s ears perked up at her musings. He raised an eyebrow, and she continued, “In all the stories and the books and the stories and the epics the bards play- whenever there’s a town square, there’s a fountain.”
“I thought most town squares did have a fountain,” Leonard inquired.
Stacy giggled, “Of course not, silly. Most towns I’ve been in don’t even have a town square. But then, I’ve mostly been in cities.” Leonard gave her a slight smile, always happy to hear more about the cities.
“They’re nice and big, with more than twice the amount of people in this town, and those are just the ones in a part of a city!” Her hands flew outward, and if it wasn’t for the subject Leonard would find her obnoxious. “There’s more shops than there are customers, and more adventurers than there are adventures. Men spend all day sipping on their ale and mead trying to find a wild goose to chase while the barkeep makes more bank than they could ever ask for.”
 “That sounds like a genius business model,” Leonard chuckled as his fantasies of industry and the floating city of Overdraugh crept into his mind. “Tell me again about the time you went to Uldraugh?”
Stacy’s eyes grew wide with excitement, “Oooh, Uldraugh was the best! You know everything I just said?” Leonard nodded. “Well, Uldraugh is all of that, but with three layers of that!” She stood up, and her hands flew through the air, making gestures that held no meaning to the topic. “First the Drek made a city in the cracks of the world with all of the other vermin- finally found their place, right?” Stacy chuckled, “Then the Dwarves built over it, determined to one-up the Drek. They succeeded, but not until our Tark brethren built over them, with their floating cities.”
“How do the cities float?” Leonard’s voice grew airy as he placed his chin in his palms.
“Well, they’re made of the same stuff our home is made out of. Most of their Hovels are fat, and as big as this entire town. Then they connect them with chains and ziplines and portals,” She inhaled deeply, “The air is so fresh up there you could spend all day taking it all in-“ her train of thought crashed into the ground when a closed darkwood carriage came rolling into town. Sitting in the driver’s seat was Mr. Gig, his white beard and blue eyes beaming with excitement and joy.
Leonard looked behind him, and another long-forgotten smile crossed his face. Mr. Gig stopped his carriage in the middle of the Street, and waved his tall hat to the busy townspeople already gathering around. “Hello everyone! It’s good to see all of your faces once again!”
He hopped on top of his carriage. Just as it was a little over a year ago, his cane popped into a slot and the carriage’s side burst open with new gadgets and pieces of miscellaneous gear. He daintily jumped from the top of his carriage and began his sales pitch. Leonard and Stacy were near the front, ready for the moment for him to accept a question. The crowd became abuzz with the news of exotic items for them to buy with unneeded money.
Time passed until the sun began to set, and Gig’s inventory was running low. Finally a good portion of the crowd had wandered off, either satisfied or bitter from not winning an auction for a gadget they didn’t likely need. Stacy threw her hand into the air, “Mr. Gig! Mr. Gig me and my friend here have a very specific item we’re looking for.”
Mr. Gig’s smile slackened, “I’m sorry dear, but I cannot guarantee that I will have it.”
“We figured you might have it though, since you deal to a lot of adventurers and wizards are common for adventuring parties and-“
Mr. Gig’s familiar smile returned, “Out with it girl! The sun’s almost set.”
“Do you have any soul jars to sell?”
Mr. Gig stroked his beard, heavy in contemplation. “Soul jars? Those aren’t a particularly common thing to sell.” He looked back into his carriage. Still stroking his beard, he stepped inside and began rummaging through piles of junk and scrap. “Soul jars, soul jars,” he mumbled, sifting through his wares.
Stacy’s eyes tried to remain hopeful, but Leonard’s skepticism kept a weight on his face. Mr. Gig continued to toss around non-fragile wares in his carriage, “Say that I did find a Soul jar in the carriage, what are you two little ones willing to pay for it?”
Stacy scratched the back of her head before pulling out a small sack of coins. She doled out ten platinum pieces, “I don’t know how much these things are worth, so how about a thousand gold?” Leonard’s eyes nearly left his head.
	He pulled her to the side and whispered into her ear, “A thousand gold? We could buy a carriage and go to the next town over for that much!”
	She shrugged, “We’ll make more after we have the jar. I don’t see the harm in it.”
	Gig returned from his carriage empty handed. “I’m sorry children, but that money is no good here- and I can’t seem to find the thing you’re looking for.”
	“No Soul jars to sell?” Stacy pouted.
	“No Soul jars to sell.”
	Leonard sighed, and headed back to the fountain. He’d need to think of an excuse for disappearing for a week so that him and Stacy could go to the next town over. Stacy shared the same disappointment, and thanked the well clothed, circular shaped man. As she turned away, Mr. Gig tapped her shoulder.
	“Psst. Take this,” Mr. Gig slipped a Soul jar out of his inner coat pocket and placed it in her hands.
	As her brain overheated from thinking, the only word she could mutter was, “What?”
	“Something tells me you want this for him, so get him to think it was from you, not me,” Mr. Gig whispered, winking. Stacy only stared at the jar. “It’s free, so long as you do me a favor.”
	Stacy’s mind was thrown back onto its tracks, “Anything!” Mr. Gig shushed her, and peeked over her shoulder to see if Leonard had taken a break from his disappointed sulking to listen in on their conversation.
	“Make him so happy, he’ll smile just by being around you,” Mr. Gig patted the jar in her hands, smiled, and hopped atop his carriage. The three or four other people who remained waved goodbye to Mr. Gig as he shut his carriage and drove away. Another town satisfied, and another lesson to be learned.
	Stacy, in a moment of clarity and cunning, decided that it would be best to save the jar as a surprise, or a means of extortion. As the sun fell across the horizon and the cold came to reclaim the lands underneath their feet, Leonard and Stacy mumbled and grumbled in disappointment at Mr. Gig’s lack of Soul jars. Leonard kept an amount of steely reserve for when Stacy suggested that they give up the chase for the fairies until they grew older. He spoke as though it was because he would not give up on a dream so quickly, but the way he spoke said other things.
	Stacy’s father tipped his hat at Leonard, feigning remembrance. Leonard did not speak out of respect, and Stacy kept silent so long as she knew they were both within earshot of one another. The only speaking companions in the night were the howling timber wolves and the roaring winds.
+++

	After the search for the Soul jar went dry, and after Stacy refused to leave for the next town over to buy one herself, Leonard grew desperate for chasing his dream. A misty black apparition appeared in his dreams, wrapping wispy shadow fingers around his head. Its mouth opened wide enough to swallow Leonard whole, but it could only speak in whispers. “Give up,” it told him, “Opportunity is lost upon you,” it preached. Each night, Leonard would wake up in a sweating haze, look to his window, and find that it was sadly closed and his dearest companion was gone.
	Stacy and Leonard stopped their nightly excursions, but continued to speak to one another. After a month or two had passed, the boy had assumed Stacy forgot all about the book, as she no longer rapped on his window or left provocative notes in the crevices of his drawers. Some days, Stacy would be found nearby the pig farm, asking if Leonard would be interested in an afternoon into town. His father understood, and advocated his going.
	Each time a whisper from the shadows of his mind would pipe up, “Give up.” Leonard shrugged, and agreed to the excursion. Each carriage ride was just as silent, respectful, and still as the last. Eventually, Leonard believed Stacy to be his only close friend. They talked when they could, but became enwrapped into learning their respective family businesses. As Leonard put on his work clothes the same whisper would jeer at him, “Give up.” At one point, Leonard accidentally called his father Pap. The name stuck with every utterance from the shadowy whisper.
	“Hey, Pap,” Leonard questioned his father, “Mind if I take the day off today?”
	“Well, we were going to get the pigs into town-“ Pap smiled, “And we both know how much you hate to miss an opportunity for that.”
	Leonard shrugged, “You can do that on your own, can’t you? I got something I need to do.”
	“And what would be more important than helping out your Pap?”
	Leonard repressed his shoulder’s instinct to shiver, “I just- it’s important, alright?”
	Pap raised an inquisitive eyebrow before remembering Stacy, “Oh, I get what you mean. Sure son, go ahead.” He turned and began readying himself to rally some hogs nearly twice his size. “I expect you’ll let me have a day off soon, too!” he laughed.
	Leonard mumbled some acknowledging drivel before going to the nearby woods. Every few weeks, Leonard would make this same trip into the woods. He’d bring an axe, a compass, and the book. Using the axe he’d mark his way with Xs in the trees, tearing deeper and deeper into the forest each time. Pap and his superstitions always said that a compass was a better detector for the supernatural than a navigation tool. Leonard resolved that if any tree acted suspiciously under the compass, he’d leave the book there, then forget that he ever found it.
	Leonard made at least a dozen excursions into the forest by the time Stacy caught on. She hadn’t spoken with him in at least a week. Her face was wrought with worry every time they met, as Leonard’s face drooped lower and grew paler with every passing week. “What’s the matter, Lenny? You look ill today,” Stacy first asked.
	“Just tired. I need more sleep, I guess,” he’d respond, “Also, stop calling me that.”
	She followed the axe marks. Her light-footedness was difficult to retain amidst the crunching dead leaves and twigs that lined the forest’s floor. Spring air flowed through the trees, warm and damp. Birds chirped in the ceiling of green while lizards and snakes danced with rodents and bugs underneath. Stacy stopped, and pondered why she and Leonard hadn’t explored the forest before. It seemed awful fairy-like, after all. Discarding the thought, she shrugged and continued to trace Leonard’s footsteps.
	Leonard stood in the middle of a clearing, with the noon’s sun hanging high above him. Showering in the golden glaze, he fiddled with his compass. It was stuck on facing northeast. “No, that’s all correct-“ He flicked the cheap thing once before his ears perked up. “Maybe I can get this damn thing out of my head,” he cheekily mumbled before turning around. Stacy stayed hidden, fearing that her presence would cause Leonard to return home. With quick, happy strides Leonard marked a tree, following the compass’ lead.
	As the compass began to flip and turn, Leonard changed his pursuit. His axe arm grew tired as he marked tree after tree, following an erratic pursuit. Stacy’s feet held difficulty in being quiet when following a constantly changing and spontaneous creature. Suddenly, Leonard darted backwards, directly into her.
	They fell upon the forest floor, and wildlife darted away from them, terrified. Leonard stared into her eyes, “Stacy?”
	She sheepishly smiled, “I don’t know?”
	Leonard leapt off of her, only to find the compass was now going wild- its arrow spun around, changed directions, turned three times one way and six times another. Stacy’s eyes grew wide as she saw a small wooden idol vaguely in the shape of a human perch itself on Leonard’s shoulder. It had wings made of leaves, two eyesockets, no mouth, and a beansprout coming out of its head.
	With wide eyes and a wider smile, she pointed up at it. “Leonard!”
	“Yes Stacy I am Leonard-“
	“No you- look!”
	Leonard cocked his head, to the side before looking behind his shoulder. The small wooden human-like creature waved at him. The Tark screamed, and the small wooden idol squealed with him. Falling down beside Stacy, he regained his breath. “Is that-“
	“I told you we’d find one!”
	The tiny fairy jeered and giggled before diving down into the underbrush and disappearing. “Where’d it go?” Stacy’s voice was ripe with excitement as she tossed aside the underbrush in pursuit of their goal. Leonard looked down at his compass to find the needle pointing north. “Where’d it go? Where’d it go?” his companion repeated.
	Leonard sighed with a familiar whisper. He tossed the book aside, stood, and began to leave. “What are you doing?” Stacy asked, picking up the book.
	“Leave it.”
	“But we’re so close-“
	“We found one, but we still don’t have a way to catch it,” Leonard sighed, “Just leave it.”
	She quickened her pace with the book still in her hands, “You don’t know that.”
	“You said it yourself it’d be too dangerous to leave the region looking for a soul jar, and that you don’t have enough money to pay for a mercenary.”
	“I don’t need a mercenary, as long as I know that you’re with me.”
	Leonard turned around, and raised his eyebrow, “What do you mean?”
	“Promise me you’ll never leave me, and we can still go through with the plan.”
	Leonard scratched at his hair, “I don’t understand. We’ll always be friends-“
	“No, not as friends,” Stacy drew closer, and held his hand, “as partners.” Leonard’s eyes grew wide as his brain pieced her clues together. She leaned in closer to him, but he yanked himself away.
	“You’re not really-“ She hopped forward, and he pulled back.
	“I am really. You know you want to,” her voice trailed. She continued her advance and he continued his retreat until the both were pinned onto a tree. “Make me your wife,” she whispered into his ear.
	Leonard’s hands were clammy, his eyes were wide and his breath was fast. Stacy took it that he was adorably anxious to admit his love for her, but Leonard was repressing the urge to shove her off of him and run in any discernable direction. A whisper from the back of his mind beckoned him to give into her, but his crippling fear was too much for him to lose grasp on.
	After a moment of silence, Stacy put her ear to his chest. The forest’s idle noises paled in comparison to the racing and tremors of his heart. Leonard’s trembling fingers struggled to rise and grip at her shoulders, and in a slow, tender movement he pushed her off of him. His guts bubbled in his gullet, and he repressed the urge to heave.
	Stacy noticed his pallid complexion, “Leonard? What’s wrong? What-“ Her queries were interrupted with Leonard’s falling body. The boy awoke with a fright and a gasp. Feeling sweat on every part of his body, his blurred vision darted all three hundred and sixty degrees. Wiping sweat from his brow and rubbing his eyes, the haze of sleep passed away. He was in his room, left exactly as it had been. Nothing was amiss, except for an ornately decorated pewter vase. Sections of the vase had hard, ornately carved clay stuck on it, creating a picture of a man stealing an animal’s soul. Underneath it was a note, signed with a kiss and Stacy’s name. Leonard examined the jar, and though he was no expert with enchanted objects, the jar tingled with magic. Leonard smiled, and began reading the note.

Dear Leonard,
	I am deeply sorry that you have fainted due  to my advances. I sincerely did not realize the effect I was having on you, and more importantly your body. It is quite clear that you are infatuated with me, and that should I have not been so bold, you would not have stuttered and fallen. I have assumed that you would agree to my attempts at courting for obvious reasons. Though it is not unlike your nature to mistake the obvious for the vague, I speak of course of the agreement by which we have yet to officially agree upon.
	To remind you, should you suffer any short-term memory loss: You, Leonard Arbitros, are to become the husband to me, Stacy Maxwell. Aside from all the benefits that this would entail, our deal made one year ago will come into full effect upon the capturing of the specimen “Fairy”. Our eternal friendship and love will be held in a binding soul-contract, done by a local forces magician in the name of Tark.
	I have taken the time to assign the magician to the task, who has already been paid. Since it is quite possible that you will protest your obvious feelings for me and reject me, remember that you need me, and I need you. Thus it is that I assume you will agree to our courtship, and all will be well with the deal. Out of respect, I have not informed either of our parents of the marriage, though a marriage we shall have.
	The Soul jar placed atop this note is a genuine Soul jar, given to me by the famous Mr. Gig. Gig stated that it would be free upon purchase, if I used it to get you to love me. As he demanded a far higher price than I had originally asked for, I profess that I will keep it within all of my powers to use this device to convince you to love me.
Forever Loving and Youthful,
Stacy Maxwell
	Truly Stacy’s empty-headedness and naivety remained in all parts of her psyche except for a business deal. Leonard’s brow furrowed when he realized that no amount of money could pay off his life, and he would not be allowed out of marrying her if he wanted her business. He sat in front of his desk for hours, contemplating how to best handle the situation to his benefit. He knew that he could not gain the business and proper equipment needed to properly log a forest without her, and she had business experience and knowledge that far surpassed his own.
	He wrote nineteen letters in response, each of them crumpled and discarded in the trash. Halfway through his twentieth letter, Leonard took his inkwell and spilled it over his paper. Angry at how his mind and body was being taken advantage of, he stuffed the black page into the Soul jar. He flipped his blinds open, and saw the first few rays of morning sunlight wash over the woods. “Good,” he mumbled, “She’s probably asleep.”
	With many nights of sneaking out under his belt, Leonard shut his family’s apartment front door shut silently. With heavy, long strides he darted to the central ladder which connected the many floors in his floating home. He placed the soul jar in a pulley system, and stomped his way to the top floor. He retrieved his jar from the pulley, and knocked upon the Maxwell household’s door. A tall woman answered with crows feet next to her eyes.
	“Hello Mrs. Maxwell. I’m here to see your daughter about something,” Leonard spoke quickly. Stacy’s mother stepped aside, and with a light smile she whispered victorious musings to herself. Leonard was too consumed in fervor- mistaken for passion- and didn’t take notice. He burst into the room to find Stacy asleep in her bed. The room was covered in pinks, purples, light greens and hearts. Shaking off his nausea, Leonard roughly shook her by the shoulder.
	He leaned in closer to her, and in a growling voice he commanded her to awaken. Her eyes slowly opened, and in a half-dreaming state her arms flung over his shoulders and brought their lips to touch. Leonard’s cheeks reddened before he tore himself away, his angry composure blown apart by her volatility. She returned to her senses, and forgetting what she had done she smiled, “Yes?” Her voice drawled and her eyes half-shut, exhausted.
	“Wake up,” Leonard commanded again, rubbing his lips and face with his sleeve.
	“Lenny? Is that you?” She drawled again, smiling wide.
	“Yes, I’m here to propose a counter-offer.”
	“Counter-offer?” Her eyes closed, and she nearly fell back into her bed, if Leonard hadn’t stepped forward to shake her by the shoulders again. Her eyes pulled themselves open, and Leonard lifted up the Soul jar for her to see. The girl’s eyes widened, and suddenly the fullness of being awake drove itself into her.
	“There’s a note inside,” Leonard moved her legs off of her bed and sat beside her. She rose an eyebrow at him before looking inside. Her fingers pinched the end of the slightly soggy black note and yanked it out. It was damp, but for the most part dry. Little drips of black ink fell onto Stacy’s thighs and legs. Her face was blank.
	“I don’t get it.”
	“It’s my answer.”
	“What’s your answer?”
	“Read it.”
	“I don’t get it.” The loop continued once or twice before Stacy fell into a giggling fit. She placed the note where it might dry and not stain the pink in her room, and fell back onto her bed. Her legs flung themselves into the air and atop Leonard’s lap. Leonard’s shoulders pulled upwards as a crawling feeling crept through his spine.
	“It is everything I have to say to you, written completely in ink. There was so much to write, it took up the entirety of the page,” Leonard admired his own poetic description of what was originally an accident.
	Stacy scratched at her head, “So is that a yes?”
	“And more,” Leonard stared at her with aggressive apathy.
	“A good more?”
	“A great deal more.” Leonard frowned at her, hoping she’d sense his contempt.
	She flung her arms into the air and grabbed Leonard again, then with strength that far outmatched his, she pulled him down to lay with him. She squealed and giggled in excitement, and adorned the boy with praise and happiness. “I just knew you’d come around eventually!” She hugged him tightly, and he repressed his desire to rip her away from him.
	“But,” Leonard mumbled through gritted teeth.
	“But?” Caution and disappointment paraded into Stacy’s mood.
	“We can only pronounce our love after the fairy is caught,” Leonard stiffened his arms and legs, hoping that if he could get as uncomfortable as possible, he might pass some of it on to Stacy. Her good cheer returned to her, and she agreed heartily to the condition.
+++

	Three days passed as they continued to track the fairy. Leonard cursed himself for not thinking of using the compass earlier, as it directly pinpointed any sort of anomaly in the forest for the duo to chase. Here and there they would catch a glimpse of the little wooden idol shaped thing, but its home remained an elusive target. Finally, on the fourth day, the Fairy revealed itself to them.
	“Why are you two following me?” It flew in front of Leonard’s face. Its wooden jaw unhinged to reveal many tiny sharpened wooden teeth. Sweat permeated his brow as Leonard hastily thought of a lie to tell the little beast.
	Stacy perkily shouted, “We were playing a game!” The fairy’s aggression turned to playfulness as its leafy wings fluttered to her.
	“What game?” it asked.
	“Hide and seek! And we found you!” Stacy smiled. The fairy forgot the last few days, and giddily bounced up and down in the air.
	“You did! You did find me, you did!” it smiled and looked back at Leonard, then at Stacy again. “Let’s play again!”
	Leonard understood, and smiled at the little creature, “Yes, but this time you have to find us.”
	Its little wooden mouth widened, “Ooh, yes! Yes yes, I’ll find you. I need to count,” The idol flew up and then dived into the underbrush. Little squeaking numbers came from the brush, and Leonard readied the Soul jar to capture the little thing. Stacy placed her arm in front of him, however, and pulled him behind a tree.
	“What are you doing?” He whispered, “We can get him right here.”
	“Something tells me it won’t work,” Stacy whispered back, “it’s fast, it wouldn’t just let itself be caught like that.” Leonard stroked at his clear chin, she made a point.
	“So if we can’t get it physically-“
	“We can’t catch it,” Stacy whispered to herself, saddened.
	“No, no not quite- we just need to get it to agree to getting into the jar,” Leonard’s eyes widened and he gasped, before neatly and gently placing the jar in the dirt.
	“What are you doing?”
	“You’ll see.” An eager squeak of a foreign number came from where they’d left the fairy, and its body weaved in and out of the trees at incredible speeds. In mere moments, it pointed at the duo.
	“Found you! Found you!” It jeered. The three returned into the small clearing where the fairy confronted them.
	“That’s right, you found us,” Leonard said. “Now it’s our turn to find you.” Leonard shut his eyes and clasped his hands over Stacy’s. Beginning the count, the fairy’s head darted to and fro looking for a good hiding spot. “I sure hope he doesn’t go in some little knothole or something, Stacy. There’s so many of them around I wouldn’t know which one to check,” He mumbled, his voice loud enough that the little creature could hear him.
	Stacy understood, and smiled, “I guess we’ll have to be extra careful and check all of them, then! Good thing you always think ahead, Lenny.”
	“Stop calling me that,” he whispered into her ear. They finished their count, and the Fairy darted through the underbrush. His idea of a knothole had been taken! Concentrated on winning, bits of leaves and twigs snapped and tossed about from the forest floor. Finally, nestled in the dirt, the fairy found a clay jar where it could hide.
	Smiling, it commented on how clever it was to choose a place they would never look. It opened the cap to the jar and slid itself in. Eventually, it heard Leonard and Stacy approach, and the jar lifted itself out of the dirt. They walked through the forest, carrying on idle conversation, and the fairy felt joyous in how well it had confounded them. After the presence of the forest faded from the fairy’s heart, it realized that it had won and tried to force the cap open again. However, it was tighter than it had remembered. Using all of its strength, it tried to push on the swiveling lid to no avail.
	“Hey! Hey let me out of here!” its shrill voice wailed. Stacy and Leonard ignored it, and continued their walk to home.
+++
	Days passed, and the fairy refused to talk to them. The two fairy catchers knew the creature would not die, for a fairy has no need for mortal things like breathing or eating. They talked to the jar and waited for answers, but none came until the following week.
	“I know why you want me,” the fairy’s once fervor filled voice became monotonous. “I can feel the book.”
	Leonard and Stacy’s ears perked upwards. “You can what?”
	“We feed off the souls of the trees,” the fairy held back its tears. “That one’s still alive, barely. Mangled, put back together, and scarred, but alive.”
	“Mangled and scarred?” Stacy inquired, drawing closer.
	“They look like my people’s words. Etched into the leaves.”
	Leonard smiled, “Listen little fairy,”
	“My name’s Ithlin!” It cried.
	“Listen, Ithlin,” Stacy tried to sound as sweet as she could.
	“We’ll let you leave and be free again,” Leonard continued. He waited for the fairy to cry back at him. After not hearing anything for a few seconds he continued, “but in return you have to translate this book for us.”
	“You could have just asked,” the fairy groaned. Leonard and Stacy blinked.
	“What?”
	The fairy spoke through broken sobs, “You ruined my day! Meanie!” Leonard and Stacy began to plead for forgiveness, and the fairy acquiesced. “I’ll translate your book,” it said, reluctance ripe in its voice.
In the course of the following days, the fairy translated the book. It told tales of a land just behind their own, in a plane of existence called The Fae. It described spells and rituals to go there, and bespoke of an endless forest of Faewood. Leonard and Stacy both began their preparations to enter The Fae. Nearly adults, they gathered funds and responsibility until they were able to reach their goal. Nearly a year later, they had the logging machinery necessary to bring one or two of the massive trees back into their world.
They opened the soul jar, and the fairy popped out. Its wooden body was beginning to shrivel, its smiling face had disappeared, and its laugh would never return. As a final part of the deal, it opened a portal to The Fae, and Leonard and Stacy knew that they would be happy.
The fairy raised its hands, spoke a language only known to the fairies, and the portal opened. It was as if they were looking through a window without a frame directly into the next room. Inside were trees, boundless trees. Lugging in their machinery, the newly and regrettably wed Stacy and Leonard began to cut down the first trees they found suitable.
The air smelt of spores and fresh leaves. Even the floor, which should have been covered in dead and rotting leaves, remained a lush and overgrown paradise for animals and insects. As the last piece of machinery was brought through the portal, the Fairy followed. He closed the portal behind them.
“Ithlin? You were supposed to keep the portal open.”
The fairy which had no laugh let out a giggle, “That wasn’t a part of the deal.” Before the duo could question it further, it said with death in its face, “You broke the cardinal rule of The Fae: you are not one with nature.” It pointed at the machinery they had brought and their clothes, and dove into the underbrush.
The two stood in confusion, more scared that they had no way home rather than the rule. “One with nature?” Leonard asked, then turned at the machinery.
Stacy held her chin, “Maybe we weren’t supposed to bring machinery here?”
“But how would we cut the logs? With our hands?”
“Yeah, that’s true.”
“How are we going to go back home?” Leonard’s voice filled with dismay.
	Stacy threw herself over his shoulder, “It’s okay, you’re smart- we’ll find a way out of this.”
	Vines crept up their legs, and tugged them into the dirt. Stacy began to scream, but Leonard was too confused to react. Vines crept up their bodies and bore into their skin.  Flowers began to sprout from their flesh. It all happened so fast that Stacy could only shriek “I love you” one final time before being choked by the vines.
	Leonard remained conscious, kept alive from the plants. Ithlin began dancing around him, asking him questions about being human. It giggled and happily danced on Stacy’s new petals. Leonard wanted to yell, he wanted to cry and he wanted to be free, but the plants kept him in his state of half-death.
	He remained in The Fae, and as Ithlin played with him he saw his wife turn into a plant, and saw his machinery rust and fall into disrepair. All those years, all that time with Stacy was for this. Yet still he remembered those few words his father uttered: “Never trust a fairy.”