As he gazed at the stars, the dark cloud moved closer to him, slowly at first, but with increasing speed. When the cloud was nearly on top of him, Phinnegan rose to his feet and began to trek in the direction that the cloud was moving, trying to stay ahead. He had no idea where he was going, but perhaps he would find some kind of shelter.
After walking for some time, Phinnegan noticed that the area around him began to slowly fill with trees, first one then two and then ten. The open expanse of land was giving way to a forest, and in short order, Phinnegan was indeed within the borders of a dark and brooding wood. The trees became closer together and began to crowd around him. There was a path, but it was narrow and overgrown, and weaved amongst large trees such that a group would have needed to walk single-file to stay on the path.
When the first drop of rain fell on his head, Phinnegan shivered, both from the sudden chill of the rain and the wind that rustled the leaves about, as well as the memories of Darkwater forest and the Faolchú.
He walked on for perhaps half an hour more, always following the winding way of the path deeper into the wood. The trees were of varying types, elm and oak, ash and birch. One oak that he passed was darker and larger than any other tree around. Its branches were thick and gnarled, and hung gravely over the path. But Phinnegan paid it little mind.
Until he passed it a second time.
Even in the dim light of a cloudy night, the tree looked familiar. The same dark trunk, the same gnarled branches hanging over the path. Phinnegan stopped and looked long and hard at the tree, but the rain continued to pound and so he continued on.
Phinnegan shivered uncontrollably now; the rain was dreadfully cold and he had little to keep himself warm. The ice like rain and the increasing wind was draining his strength quickly. Phinnegan continued to search for a shelter: a bough that could shield him, a hollow, rotting tree in which to hide. But there was nothing. He continued to trudge through the forest, but his steps began to slow.
A flicker of motion caused him to raise his head. A speck of light like a firefly on a mid-summer’s eve blinked not more than ten paces in front of him. It blinked a second time and then was gone, only to re-appear a few moments later more than twenty paces ahead.
It must be nice to be your own light
.
He continued on, stumbling occasionally over the sinewy roots that ran from the trees and broke free of the ground. He moved as though within a daze, and more than once his feet seemed to know something that his mind did not, for now and then he would turn right, and then left, but could not remember deciding to do so. More than once, another speck of light, another little firefly, blinked somewhere in front of him. It could, of course, have been the same speck of light, but that thought never crossed his mind.
When the trees finally parted, Phinnegan stood in a small clearing, barely able to see more than a few paces in front of him. The rain had increased and the night was dark. But just ahead lay something even darker, like the great gaping jaw of a beast, black and ominous even in a black world. Just in front, to the right of this darkness, a firefly flickered.
Phinnegan stumbled forward several feet, coming ever closer to the gaping mouth in the darkness. When his steps finally brought him to the edge, and he crossed into this darkness, the rain stopped. The air here was warm, and an odor assailed him, though it was neither pleasant nor foul, only the heavy scent of fertile earth.
Wiping the water from his face and pushing his hair back, Phinnegan turned around. Only just behind him, the rain continued to fall and splash in newborn puddles. He could just make out the rough, rocky outline of the great gaping mouth that had been visible in the darkness. He was in a cave.
It was not a large cave, but the ceiling was tall enough for him to stand. The entry way was narrow so that his outstretched arms allowed his fingertips to graze both walls, but this throat widened into the belly of the cave, which was large enough for several people.
Though he was now out of the rain, Phinnegan was still cold and wet, not to mention hungry. He was also exhausted, which dampened his hunger. One glance into the downpour outside of the cave was enough to resign him to bed without supper.
He moved towards one corner of the cave, but just at the edge of his vision, he spied a small speck of light blinking furiously in the opposite corner. Something pulled him to this speck, but when he reached the corner, the speck was gone. The corner itself was extremely warm. The rock was almost too hot to touch.
Phinnegan pressed his back against the wall and began to lower himself down to the ground. When he placed his hand on the ground to brace himself, his fingers touched a pile of small, round objects. At first, he took them to be rocks, but a handful and a quick trip to the mouth of the cave showed them to be nuts. Nuts! Pecans and walnuts, chestnuts and acorns, as well as others he did not recognize. Upon his return to the corner, he found more than several pockets would hold.
A nearby rock serving as a nutcracker, Phinnegan ate nut after nut, smiling to himself that he should have such luck to find this cave with so warm a corner and such a lovely dinner.
When the last nut had been cracked, and Phinnegan’s stomach was full to bursting, he lay down and curled himself tightly into a ball amongst the scatterings of shells. Within moments, he was fast asleep.
Phinnegan awoke with a jolt. He rolled his head from side to side, checking the area around him, but no one was there. From where he lay, the morning light was just visible, creeping in through the mouth of the cave.
He pushed himself to a seated position and stretched his arms high overhead with a yawn. His stomach rumbled but when he searched the floor around him, there was nothing but shells.
As he pushed himself to his feet, Phinnegan leaned close to one wall of the corner. On this wall there was a cleft in the rock, a little ledge, no bigger than would hold an apple. While there was something on this ledge, it was no apple, nor anything of the sort. There was, instead, a woman. No taller than a man’s finger is long and as slender and lithe as a willow branch, she had been sitting with her knees pulled to her chest, but now bounded to her feet when Phinnegan’s eyes fell upon her.
“Good morning!” she chirped in a voice that was small without being meek.
Phinnegan, his eyes wide, was speechless. The little woman cocked her head to one side, staring back into his wide eyes. Her skin was fair and her hair hung long and straight just past her waist, its auburn color the most natural that Phinnegan had seen in this world. But she was more than just a tiny woman. There, folded upon themselves, and sticking up just behind each shoulder, were wings. As translucent as the wings of a bee, but with a tint of orange, they seemed to sprout from her back.
But as odd as these wings were, Phinnegan did not look at them, nor did he look at her beautiful face. He stared at her feet, the red in his cheeks deepening.
She was, of course, as pixies tend to be, almost entirely naked.
“Hello?” she chirped again. “I said ‘Good Morning’.” Had Phinnegan looked at her face, he would have seen that delicate brow furrow as she placed her hands upon her hips. “It is very rude not to return a greeting. Didn’t your mother teach you manners?”
“Ummm…good morning,” he said, keeping his eyes on her feet. The pixie nodded satisfactorily.
“That will have to do, although you could speak more clearly. It is very hard for my tiny ears to understand you.” Phinnegan only nodded, continuing to stare at her feet.
“Why are you looking at my feet?” she cried, her voice rising in alarm. “Are they dirty? Do I have mud on them?” Pixies are of course very particular about cleanliness, and this one was no different. She turned each foot around, and bent it back and forth, scrutinizing every spot until she was satisfied. But she remained puzzled, for Phinnegan continued to stare at her feet.
“What
are
you looking at?”
“Nothing…it’s just that…well…”
“Well what? And I told you about speaking clearly,” she scolded.
“Well…” he began, his cheeks darkening further. “You’re naked.”
The little creature’s lips parted in confusion as she cocked her head to one side.
“So?”
“Umm…well I’ve never, you know…” he stammered at first, but then found his voice. “Shouldn’t you be wearing clothes?” She shook her head.
“I don’t have any.”
“Oh.”
Anyone could see that Phinnegan was quite uncomfortable, including the pixie. She looked around the ledge for a moment before finding what she needed. After a few quick movements, she stood proudly before Phinnegan.
“There, all better.”
Phinnegan slowly raised his head. She had indeed covered herself, although just barely. Here long hair now draped in front of her shoulders, concealing her breasts. About her waist, a small ivy leaf hung precariously.
He looked to her face and found that the pixie smiled at him sweetly.
“Did you sleep well?” she asked.
“Yes…actually,” he replied, his voice bearing an edge of surprise.
“Good. I could have led you elsewhere to something more comfortable than stone, but this cave was so near I thought it would do.
“What? You led me here? I don’t remember that.”
“Well what do you remember?”
“I remember,” he began, squinting as he tried to remember the previous night. “I remember walking through the rain, though my memory is kind of foggy…”
“Quite natural, really. What else do you remember?”
“Well…not much else about the walk. Just that it was dreadfully long and cold. Then I came here, and it was dry and warm and I found a pile of nuts just there,” he said, pointing to the ground around him. “And then I fell asleep.”
“Nothing else?” she asked, leaning forward on her toes. Phinnegan appeared to think for a moment, but then shook his head.
“No, sorry.”
The pixie frowned, and her shoulders sagged. She sat down on the ledge, her legs dangling off the end.
“I thought you might have seen me,” she said with a heavy sigh. “No one ever notices me.”
“Oh, well, I think I would have remembered if I had seen you.”
“Really? Why?”
“Ummm…well you’re very pretty. I think I would have remembered that.” She laughed lightly like the song of a bird.
“Thank you.” But her smile faded and she swung her legs restlessly.
“But I was there. No one ever notices poor Mariella.”
“Mariella? Is that your name?” When she nodded, Phinnegan quickly added, “It’s a very pretty name. I’ve never heard it before.” The little creature shrugged.
“It’s pretty common where I come from.”
“My name is Phinnegan. Phinnegan Qwyk.”
“Nice to meet you,” the pixie said, her voice hollow and distant.
The two remained in silence for some time, the pixie swinging her legs over the ledge, her chin resting in her hand, while Phinnegan racked his brain for his memories of the previous night.
“I’m sorry,” he said at last, shaking his head. “ I don’t remember much about last night. I remember the cold, the rain, the walk through the forest, and this cave.” After a moment, he added, “And then there were those little fireflies.”
“Little what?” she asked, her head rising.
“Fireflies. I saw several last night. Little bugs that light up at night. They were everywhere.”
With a broad smile, the little woman jumped to her feet and unfolded her wings, which fluttered gracefully, lifting her so that her pointed toes were an inch off the ground.