She will not be so easy to classify, to stuff inside a box and affix with the perfect label. She will resist her taming, and climb all over sensibilities with the wicked mischief of her imagination. She will dream it all and make it happen with the strength of her will. She will fight and question and be a wild thing, dancing her way through silence. And if you ever cross her, she’ll fill your tea with fairy droppings and you’ll never be the wiser.
“A caterpillar got me,” the leaf told the fairy.
She nodded, he was the fifth leaf this morning. “Hold still,” she said as she mixed up a poultice of wild strawberries and spittle bug spit to apply to his wounds. “No dancing on the wind for at least forty-eight hours.”
The fairy heard the children coming along and froze mid-dance. She struggled to keep her balance and wobbled a bit when most of the children were looking away. The one child that did see was never believed, but gained a lifetime of wonder just the same.