Pixie Wings & Clover Oil

Nothing was as it seemed under the leafy canopy. A glass bottle suspended from a massive oak tree twisted on a thin piece of twine and cast splotches of sunlight onto the ground. Instead of a beverage, a rolled scroll of parchment and a vial of green oil swirled inside, beckoning someone to reach up and claim them. Across the narrow forest path, two sets of iridescent eyes watched their trap with excited anticipation. 

Nothing quite entertained a pair of fey children like tricking morals already struggling to find their way out of the Caledonian Forest.

“Do you see him yet?” Saffron asked, but instead of waiting for her friend to answer, she snatched the acorn capped spyglass out of his hands and looked farther down the path.

Tidal huffed in annoyance. “No.”

“He should be here by now,” Saffron whined. Had they chosen the wrong path? When they first discovered the hiker at dawn, she was certain he’d follow the deer trail onto this wider, more mortal footed path. She scanned down both directions of the trail but didn’t see anyone.

“Maybe he fell and died?” Tidal shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time humans thought they could make it up here in one piece. Oh! Maybe a Red Cap got him?”

Saffron gasped, lowering the spyglass. “Then we would have set the trap for nothing.”

“If he’s not here soon, then I’m going back home. I already missed lunch. I won’t miss dinner too.”

Saffron poked Tidal’s pudgy belly. “You eat so much I can’t believe your wings still carry you.”

Tidal fluttered his blue-hued butterfly-like wings. They were larger than Saffron’s orange ones, but less curly. The straight edges let him fly faster than any other kid their age. “My wings do just fine, unlike yours.”

Before Saffron could rebuke his statement, she heard the crunch of leaves and whipped around to face their target, but it wasn’t a human on the path. Saffron sighed, dragging her hands down her face.

“How’d she find us?” Tidal groaned.

The smaller fey child spotted them in the branches, waved excitedly with both hands, and then scurried up to meet them. She looked just like a mini Saffron, even though Saffron had cut her hair short and dyed it with Rowan berries, she couldn’t shake the family resemblance to her sister.

“There you are,” Citron cheered. “I thought I lost you back at the stream.”

“That was the plan,” Tidal whispered in Saffron’s ear.

“You need to go home, Citron,” Saffron ordered.

“But Mom said I could play with you,” Citron said.

“But I didn’t agree to it,” Saffron snapped. “Scram before you ruin our game again.”

Citron crossed her arms. “I said I was sorry.”

“Sorry didn’t fix my crossbow,” Tidal said.

“Or the window you broke trying to fire it,” Saffron added. “You’re a jinx. Always breaking something.”

Citron’s cheeks turned the color of Saffron’s hair, but she fought through her embarrassment. “I was just having some fun. Probably more fun that whatever you’re doing out here.”

“Good.” Tidal leaned down so his pointy nose pressed painfully against hers. “Go have fun back at your house.”

Saffron was about to suggest the same, but their target finally appeared. His frying pan clanked against the side of his bag. She grabbed both her sister’s and Tidal’s hands and yanked them lower on the branch to hide behind the oak leaves. Fey rarely needed to hide from mortals, but if their prank worked, then they would need the extra element of surprise.  

The hiker slowed as he neared the bottle. He circled it once, twice, and a third time before flicking it. The bottle sailed wildly on its twine before the man caught it and pulled it free. Tidal snickered as the man pulled out the cork and shook the contents into his large hand. He read the scroll and then, foolishly, followed the instructions and rubbed the green oil under his eyes.

“Think it worked?” Saffron asked Tidal.

“Only one way to find out.” Tidal rose from his crouch and floated down. He was barely as tall as the man’s head, but Tidal puffed out his chest and placed his hands on his hips, waiting for the man to turn around and see him.

“Ahem,” Tidal cleared his throat after a minute.

The man spun around and saw Tidal, but he didn’t look as shocked as the other humans the fey children gave the Sight to had. The clover oil dripped down his cheeks and disappeared into his beard.

“You have angered the great forest guardian,” Tidal recited his practiced speech as Saffron got into her position behind the man in a nearby tree. “I will only let you pass if you leave your pack for the forest!”

Saffron shook the branch nearest the man, knocking leaves and acorns to the ground. Maybe when Citron was older, she could help scare humans by banging a stick against the tree or dropping dirt on them from above, but for now she was too much of a pain for Saffron.

“Forest guardian?” the man didn’t sound impressed. “Look to be pretty small for an almighty spirit, don’t you think, pixie?”

Saffron swallowed hard, keeping her attention on Tidal. This was new. Mortals rarely knew them as such. They were fey, tricksters, forest spirits, things to be wary of. Not to be challenged. No other mortal had known them as a pixie.

“And you look pretty old to be hiking in my forest,” Tidal said, hiding his own shock well.

The man smiled an unfriendly grin. “You want my pack? Very well. Let me just get it off.”

He slipped the bag off his shoulders and it crashed to the ground, the contents knocking together. I sounded like he was traveling with a hundred glass bottles.

“Very good,” Tidal said. A bead of sweat dripped down the side of his face. “Smart move, mortal.”

The man reached inside his pack, pulling out a jar with a dark grey lid. Even from her distance, Saffron’s skin crawled at the sight of it. Iron. The man twisted off the lid. “I get a lot of money selling pixie wings. Imagine how much I’d make selling a forest guardian.”

Saffron flew into action. Her wings propelled her into Tidal, knocking him out of the way of the incoming jar. She wasn’t fast enough to save herself from the same fate and crashed into the bottom of the container. The iron lid spun into place above her. She shoved against it, but the iron burned her fingers. Her wings drooped around her. She had never felt so tired in her whole life.

The man dropped her and readied a second jar at Tidal, who had crashed against a tree. She watched helplessly as the man approached Tidal in two gigantic steps. Saffron covered her eyes, unable to watch Tidal get hurt, and heard a massive thud that vibrated her jar. Peeking through her fingers, the man was sprawled out on the ground. Tidal uncaptured. Citron hovering above the man’s head, holding the frying pan.   

The pan weighed her small body down, her yellow wings unable to support both for long, but, to Saffron, Citron has never looked more powerful. Her annoying baby sister had just saved them. Saffron beat against the glass jar in celebration. The tiny movement tired her out more, and she slumped down the side.

Tidal flew to her, pressing his hands against the jar, attempting to reach her. The iron lid affected him even from the outside. His beautiful blue wings dulled. As did his eyes.

Saffron waved him away. “Go without me,” she said. “Get out of here before he wakes up. Protect Citron.”

“We’re not leaving you.” Tidal braced himself on the jar, took a few deep breaths and fluttered to the lid. He collapsed a few minutes later, the lid no looser, and him more drained.

“I’ve got this,” Citron said, walking to the jar and dragging the frying pan behind her.

Saffron shook her head. “You’ll get hurt.”

“Your sister is right,” Tidal added to Citron. “Stay back.”

As defiant as ever, Citron shook her head. She tightened her grip on the pan and flapped her tiny wings. It was a miracle she had lifted the pan in the first place, a second time was too much. Tidal stood on the other side of the handle and together they lifted the pan up and up, bringing it over the jar.

Behind them, Saffron watched the man sit up, rubbing the back of his head. He turned to face them; his gaze as angry as a kicked-up hornet’s nest. Saffron tried to single Tidal and Citron, but they couldn’t see her. She watched, horrified, as the man stood and staggered forward.

When the pan fell against the lid, a terrible ringing filled the jar, but the glass buckled and shattered. Saffron grabbed a piece of the broken glass and flew at the man, cutting everywhere she could. She would rather die than let this fey hunter hurt her friend and sister. He swatted at her like a bug, and she sliced the glass against his palm.

Fueled by a new rage, the man struck her hard, knocking Saffron to the ground. The shard flew from her hand and vanished somewhere under the leaf litter. The man raised his foot and was about to squash Saffron, until a mob of shining wings pummeled into his chest, knocking the man onto his butt.

The freed pixies from his pack unleashed their own broken glass shards onto the man and chased him down the path. His screams echoed off the trees. As did the relieved laughter of the three fey children.

“Still mad I break everything?” Citron asked with a smug grin. The man’s backpack lay in ruins among broken jars and the frying pan. He must have caught over a dozen pixies.

Saffron ignored her question and pulled Citron tightly into a hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“And that you followed us out here,” Tidal admitted. “You should come with us on all our pranks.”

“You mean it?” Citron asked.

Tidal blushed. “Only if it’s okay with Saffron.”

Saffron wanted to say no. Not only because she thought her little sister was annoying, but because pranking humans was sometimes dangerous.

“You did save the day,” Saffron said, giving into Citron’s wide and watery eyes. “But no telling Mom what we do.”

“Understood,” Citron nodded, knocking her wings together in her ferocity. “I promise.”

“What’s next?” Tidal asked, bumping his shoulder against Saffron’s. He was trying to act tough, but the dark circles under his eyes probably matched her own from the iron sickness. “Want to set up another trap before dark?”

Saffron shook her head, much to Citron’s disappointment and Tidal’s relief. “I think I need to teach Citron the rules first.”

“Rules?” Citron whined. “Games shouldn’t have rules.”

“Rules for a good prank,” Tidal answered, and Citron’s smile returned.

Saffron nodded. “Rule one, nothing in Caledonian Forest is as it seems.”