Page 2 of Chased By the Fairy

“It’s almost winter, Sorrel. I don’t want you coming outside when it snows. You could be buried in it.”

“Snow?” the tiny voice yelled, rough but pleasant, as he placed the open cup of the bell down to lean against its handle. “Is that the white stuff that falls from the sky in television shows?”

Cypress’ brows furrowed deeply.

How can he not know what snow is?He appeared to be a full-grown fairy man, despite being wingless. He should have seen many seasons.

She leaned down and held her palm out, beckoning for Sorrel to hop from the fence to her. There was no hesitation as he leapt, jumping further than humanly possible.

“Yes. The water in the air freezes and blankets the world.” She brought him up to nuzzle the side of her wrinkly face against his entire small body. “It’s very dangerous.”

“This will be my first winter since I came from my flower. I survived everything else. How bad can it be?” He shoved his hands on his hips and shook his head at her. “You worry too much – I’m stronger than I look.”

“It’s only because I care.” The old lady laughed while heading inside. “Since it’s a wonderful day, let’s have a picnic while we still can.”

He has never seen snow.Cypress’ gaze drifted over the bark he lay across and then over the remaining leaves of the ash tree.He doesn’t have wings.

After watching him for so long – all of autumn, to be exact – he’d come to discover that Sorrel wasn’t aware there were more people the same size as him. The only person he knew was the woman.

Winter is coming.Another drying leaf creaked as its stem released from the twig it had been attached to, twirling and swirling before fluttering against the ground.

Cypress squinted his eyes in the direction his recentobsessionhad gone.I want him to see Pond Town before it’s buried in snow.That meant he had to come out of hiding and introduce himself soon –now,even.

His gaze drifted to the farmhouse, and he eyed the wooden back door. Cypress was both nervous and excited. He would have to bring his bird mount to carry them both since hedoubted Sorrel would let Cypress carry him, but a wide grin spread across his features.

I want to show him the world.

When they both returned outside, Sorrel was seated on the edge of a cane picnic basket the lady was carrying on her arm. Leaning back on his hands, his feet kicking, he waited for her to set it down on the grated table.

“If you want to grab some fresh berries from the garden, I’ll go get our tea ready,” she stated.

Cypress figured she was unable to carry everything at once.

“Okay, Mother,” Sorrel answered with warmth, and she turned to leave.

This was Cypress’ opportunity, and his wings fluttered excitedly behind him as he flew closer. Just as he was about to land on the table, Sorrel jumped down to the garden bed next to it.

Cypress followed, landing on the dirt to follow him. Pushing stalks of assorted herbs out of the way, he searched for the pretty man. A bush ahead shuddered, as if something was picked from it.

Sorrel came into view, holding two raspberries by their stems.

Just as Cypress reached out to grab his shoulder, a greeting bubbling at the back of his throat, Sorrel dashed off in the direction of the table. Cypress was left grasping at thin air.

Shit.He chuckled at the way Sorrel had evaded him.He’s hard to grab ahold of.Rather than be annoyed, Cypress crinkled his nose at the alluring scent Sorrel left behind.He kind of smells like jasmine.

He chased after the disappearing fairy.

I guess I need to corner him.

And quickly, before the human returned.

Placing the two raspberries down on the big table, Sorrel double checked to make sure the tiny toy table and chair that stood on top of his mother’s outside table were still there. This would be where he sat with her, giving them both a sense of eating together.

He nodded, happy it was fine, before running back to the ledge of the table to hop back into the garden.She already has blueberries, cheese, crackers, chicken, and bread.He knew there was also some ham and other preserved meats in the basket.I should pick a few blackberries next.

Since it was late autumn, there wasn’t much else he could pick. Greta, his mother, wasn’t a big eater, though. Since Sorrel was so small, the size of a human’s thumb, he only ever needed to tear off a tiny amount of her food.

Two or three bubbles from a raspberry was enough for him.

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