“Tie her up!”
Panic bubbled up her throat as she struggled against the attackers. From their voices she guessed at least four, maybe more. If only she had some dust left. Without it, she was no better than a human with wings, possibly weaker.
Something pulled around her chest, forcing her struggling arms against her body. The blanket drew tight over her face. Air became thin. Her wings cramped as they were forced down against her back.
Tink willed her body to go limp, to give in, even as her lungs yearned for air. If they didn’t let her go, she’d suffocate.
Someone pulled the blanket from her face. She gasped mouthfuls of precious air, head spinning and eyes squinting against the lamplight as she took in her attackers. Short. Male? Scrappy clothing. Five of them that she could see.
These weren’t gnomes. They were too big, the proportions all wrong.
“You’re kids?”
The red-headed one put his hands on his hips as if to say that should be obvious.
Human kids.
Tink nearly laughed at the absurdity of it all. By Beryl’s wings, human children had tied her up in her own home.
“Is she really a pixie?” the shortest—possibly the youngest—said. He gazed at her with wide, brown eyes as if she were a kraken or some other monster.
“She’s got wings, don’t she?” The one with long, blond hair poked at her right wing with a stick.
Tink hissed at him, “Don’t you dare.”
The boy jumped back, but she didn’t let up on her hard stare.
Red stepped forward. He was still a boy, but his wiry build and features marked him as the oldest, possibly almost a teenager. “Give us pixie dust, and we’ll leave.”
Dust? What could they want with—
The youngest grabbed onto Red’s shirt. “But you said we could stay,” he whined.
“This is my home, and none of you are staying,” Tink said. “You’re not getting dust either. Now untie me and go back to your parents.”
“We ain’ got parents,” Blondie replied.
No parents?A sharp ache slipped through her chest. Five children in torn and poor-fitting clothing stared back at her. Various expressions from pursed lips to pouts met her look of confusion. She knew what it was like to be separated from family. How much worse would it be to have none at all? Still, it didn’t explain their request. “Why do you want dust?”
The little one tugged at Red’s shirt. “Dan said it makes you happy.”
Tink groaned and strained against the ropes. “Dan is an adult?”
The little one bounced. Red put a hand on his head before answering. “Yeah, works at the bakery. Gives us bread sometimes.”
She’d have run her hands down her face if she could reach it. These kids had no idea. Pixie dust wasn’t magic—not the kind she could see written all over the hope in their faces. It could get a man drunk faster than a whole bottle of rum, and all they’d remember was whatever happy thought it conjured.
“You’re too young.” She shook her head. “Besides, it’s not what you think.” Humans couldn’t use it to aid nature either—not likepixies did by working it into the ground and helping plants to grow.
“We’re not too young!” the freckle-faced one yelled.
“Yeah!” the others chimed in. One even stomped in indignation.
She sighed, rotating her shoulder as the rope loosened a bit.What a mess.
“Tinker Bell!” The deep, roaring yell seeped in through the cracks of the treehouse.
Her heart dropped.And getting messier…
