Page 31 of Apples Dipped in Gold

“What does one do at a fae ball?” I asked.

“What an odd question!” she said. “Why, dance and sing and eat until dawn!”

At the mention of food, my stomach rumbled. I could not remember when I had eaten last. Plus, I had never been to a ball before, and it sounded far more fun than wandering through the Enchanted Forest in the dark.

“And…will I be able to leave?” I asked.

“Mortals are so contrary,” said the dryad, her brows furrowing. “Of course you can leave.”

If that was the case, then I saw no harm in attending.

“Then I will come to the ball with you,” I said.

The dryad smiled, pleased, and then leapt into the air, her wings glittering as they trilled behind her. “Hurry then! You must follow me!”

I rose from the flowers with no pain in my ankle and paused to inspect it. There was no sign I had injured it, no swelling or bruising.

“What’s the matter?” asked the dryad, hovering near. “We must be on our way!”

“I am only amazed,” I said. “Before I fell asleep in the flowers, I had injured my foot.”

“The poppies must have healed you,” she said. “For that is what they do, either heal or kill.”

She zipped away then, somersaulting through the air,and I followed, again falling into step with the music, which I now felt vibrating in my veins. Before long, we emerged from behind the final row of boulders where the forest was open and endless. When we stepped beneath those ancient and heavy limbs, hundreds of lights ignited within the trees.

“Oh,” I said, breathless, awed by the beautiful display.

As I looked closer, I saw that there were hundreds of fairies in the branches, holding lanterns.

“We will carry the lanterns to the elfin hill,” said the dryad. “Come, or we will be late!”

I followed her past many trees until we came to the largest one. It was bigger than any tree I had ever seen. Perhaps it was the oldest within the Enchanted Forest, though I doubted anyone could say for certain. Its branches were dense and heavy with many needles and red berries.

“Old Mother!” called the dryad, knocking on the trunk. “Old Mother! I have a mortal here in need of some clothes!”

It took me a moment to realize that the tree was moving. Suddenly, an arm broke free from the trunk and then a leg, and before long, an entire creature made of wood stood before me. She was about my height and had deep eyes, a wide nose, and a frowning mouth. Moss and mushrooms grew on her head and arms, trailing down her trunk.

“A mortal, you say?” asked Old Mother. She leaned in to look at me, creaking like long limbs in the wind, her empty eyes unblinking. “What a pretty, pale thing. Are you sure she is not a ghost?”

“I am not a ghost, Old Mother,” I said, though my voice was quiet.

“No?” asked the old dryad. She lifted her limb-like hand to my chin, and I stiffened at her touch. “Your eyes say otherwise. Your eyes say you want to disappear.”

I’m not sure why I blushed. Perhaps it was because she had seen to my soul. I did not know what to say, so I did not speak. Instead, I dropped my gaze.

“It is all right, pretty thing,” she said. “Tonight, you will know what it is to be admired.”

I started to protest. I did not need to be admired, but Old Mother stopped me.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she said. “I will not hear it. You shall be the belle of the ball.”

She reached behind her head, broke something off with a quick snap, and offered a walnut.

“Open,” she instructed.

I looked at Old Mother and then at the nut. I did not want to insult her, so I took it, feeling strange as I bit into the woody shell and then pried it apart to reveal a bundle of white fabric. I pulled it out, dropping the shell, and found that it was a beautiful gown.

“Oh, Old Mother,” I said, holding the dress to my chest. “I have never had anything so beautiful!”

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