The early spring morning was punctuated by bird song and the soft approaching whir of wings. When it came close enough, a golden hand snaked out and snatched the miniature fairy from the air, drawing it into the shadows of the oak.

It squeaked and bit the hand on the webbing between thumb and palm. Blood welled up as it wriggled about, some of the blood covering the tawny head. It wasn’t the kind of fairy children stories were filled with. This one had furred wings. It was thin enough to be called skeletal and sported a rather dangerous set of teeth in a tautly drawn mouth. Eyes of an ocher hue stared up at the man holding it. It hissed and spines along its bony back sprang out from its body, diving into the hand holding it, further releasing more blood.

He shook it. Hard.

Knock it off or I’ll eat you.

With a whimper, the fae’s eyes widened. Spines that it had shoved so deeply into flesh disappeared instantly.

Convinced that it would make no more motions to harm him, he dropped it upon the ground where it groveled like a beaten dog.

Oh don’t be stupid. I want answers to questions.

It flared the slits it had for nostrils and shook itself. Then it slowly settled on its haunches, stared up at him. "Questions? I’m rather good at questions," it assured him.

Yes, I suppose you are. Were you in the city?

"I was," the fae retorted and stuck its tongue out. "It stinks. I stink." It lifted a arm and stared at the blood that covered it’s side. "Even more now," it mourned.

Clean up then. What did you find?

"The humans, they move. Many of them in metal shiny plates," the furry creature hissed and began to lick at the blood in its fur, spitting now and again in distaste. "They go from here to there and then they don’t come back. I think they’re searching for … her." It grinned up at him and then hunched at the look of rage on the man’s face. "They’ll not find her. We haven’t found her. If we can’t find her, no human can."

I made the mistake of underestimating them before. I’ll not make that mistake again. Where is the oracle?

"Oracle.. oracle.. oraclllllleee…" the small thing purred and then reached for a tail that was heretofore out of sight. It caressed the scaly rat like appendage in clawed fingers and then brightened up as an idea came to it. "I’ll go watch! Let me, yes? Oh please!" It danced about on the dirt path and its eyes glinted in delight. "I’ll make her like me, see?" With a shimmer, the fae leapt into the air and tinkled bells that appeared along its ears. It was a tiny creature, smaller than before it had jumped. It shone under golden fur and its eyes had changed to a dark, limpid brown. It smiled happily, showing the same teeth which now seemed to not hold the malevolence of before. "Oh - she doesn’t like humans much but she’ll like me. I’ll be a pet. I’ll tell you what she says. I’ll say what she does. I’ll find out."

The man stared down at the creature and then sighed, standing and rolling his head about on his neck. Human bodies were so painful sometimes, put together awkwardly. Very well. Go.

He flicked his fingers and in a golden burst of fairy dust, the small form was gone. The man chuckled low. If humans knew.. how many of his people walked in their midst. Why, they’d do more than tell tales, wouldn’t they?

He stared down the mountain side. Below, many miles away, beyond the foothills, lay the realm of man. The world they had created was distanced, past the swamps that created a natural barrier between his land and theirs (though they insisted on mapping his mountains as well). The swamp was a misty place of magic older than his own. There, things were truly wild not bent to the will of magicians and witches, sorcerers and conjurers. Men often went around it, rather than through it. It made the Northern Pass and some short ways south of that, the Dragon Peaks, a place which only the most intrepid of heroes attempted to reach.

The swamp, from his vantage point, was only a misted valley, long and slender, though he knew it was many miles across. It was not so far that he could not still see the first of the mankind dwellings just beyond. Like a darkened smear, the closest village had scarred the land, clearing trees to make room for more men, more fields, ploughed and just now sown. He gritted his teeth as he stared at the closest of the outposts. They feared the swamps but the wild magic never left the confines mankind had pushed it back to. The men trusted their magic too well. Eventually they would find that confining it was like attempting to confine Murrag’s Road. The magic would swell and burst the well made dam. Then their world would be his once more.

But first, he had to keep his watch. He had to keep them all from finding the chosen one. He had to keep her from ever entering this world.

__________________

‘What will my death be like?’ he thought- and knew at once
with abrupt certainty, that it would be just like his life:
... the same balance of bearables.
~Amis