Faerie Tales from the White Forest Omnibus: Faerie Tales from the White Forest

Copyright © 2011, 2012, 2014

by Danika Dinsmore

All rights reserved. Except for brief passages quoted in a newspaper, magazine, radio, or television review, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Author or the Publisher.

ISBN 978-0-9890828-5-3

Cover art: Copyright © Julie Fain

http://juliefainart.com/

Book 1 chapter heading art: Copyright © Larry Ho

Books 2 & 3 chapter heading art, maps, and illustrations: © Alison Woodward

alisonannwoodward.blogspot.com

Omnibus cover design: Christian Fink-Jensen

finkjensen.com

Published by:

Hydra House

2850 SW Yancy St. #106

Seattle, WA 98126

www.hydrahousebooks.com

These are works of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, situations, faeries, Nhords, Saari, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Introduction

Faerie Tales from the White Forest

OMNIBUS Edition

Iam pleased to present to you a collection of the first three books in my Faerie Tales from the White Forest fantasy series for young readers (and for the young at heart). What a thrill to have these books in one collection. The adventures are far from over, though, and I hope that you will continue along with Brigitta and her friends as they face greater and greater challenges in their quest to unite their world.

I would like to thank my publisher (Tod McCoy) for the suggestion for such an omnibus, my writing group (Chris Fink-Jensen, Tony Ollivier, Lois Peterson, Esther Sarlo) and critique partners (Sara Nickerson, Natalie Smith) for their support, my various focus group readers over the years (Ivaly Cline, Heron and Liz Collins, Lilly Era, Kate Fink-Jensen, Kelly and Karen Hoskins, Emma Kahn, Darline Sanderson, Ella Shaw, Andy Smallman, Angelica Taggart, and Jeremy Zimmerman) for their input, and my Sweetwood Tribe for making it all worthwhile.

Danika Dinsmore

For my father, Stanley Dinsmore,

who introduced me to my first imaginary worlds

(1929 – 2006)

Chapter One

Brigitta leaned out the window of Auntie Ferna’s cottage and balanced on her stomach in the sill. She spread her arms wide open and slowly lifted her legs. Her balance shifted forward and she dove, head first, out the window.

She somersaulted through the air and caught herself just above the large rock burrowed partway up Fernatta’s ancient tree. She fluttered the rest of the way down to the rock and looked back up at the window.

Not bad, she thought.

She turned and sat down, facing north, so that the entire village-nest of Gyllenhale was spread before her. She tucked the loose strands of her dark auburn hair back into her hair bands and settled into a patch of moss, listening to the children’s voices drifting out the window. Brigitta’s little sister Himalette shrieked from somewhere inside the cottage and Brigitta cringed.

All eyes up front! called Auntie Ferna from inside and the voices quieted. Today’s lesson will be on the history of the Festival of the Elements.

Brigitta groaned and pulled her knees to her chin. She narrowed her olive eyes and watched the flow of faeries zipping in and out of the busy marketplace below.

Several high-pitched squeals pierced the air and Brigitta turned her attention toward the sound. Two male Elder Apprentices hovered at the top of a very tall tree. Suddenly, they dropped, free-falling until they caught themselves in the air directly in front of the excited faces of three Water Faerie girls sitting on a long branch at the bottom of the tree. Brigitta recognized them; they were from Rioscrea, the village-nest southeast of her own home. The girls applauded and squealed some more as the two boys took a few bows.

Big deal, muttered Brigitta.

Sliding from the branch, the girls took to the air, playfully circling each other as they made their way through the trees. Brigitta caught sight of the shiny new markings at the ends of their wings.

They’ve been changed! she gasped.

She glanced over her shoulder at her own dull green and yellow wings, then back at the young faeries who disappeared into the busy marketplace.

Brigitta leapt from the rock and flew down past Fernatta’s garden arranged like an enormous leafy welcome mat in front of her tree. She glided over the path that led down through the village-nest and descended to Spring River. She landed on the shore at the edge of the marketplace, which was alive with dancing and singing and shouting and laughing under a hundred woven tents pitched on both sides of the river. Dozens of Water Gardeners bobbed in their reed boats, flitting their wings and calling out the names of their crops. Sharmock! Gundlebean! Dragon flower!

Brigitta took a deep breath and entered.

Busy stalls crammed the riverbank where Water Faeries offered weather spell ingredients, Fire Faeries displayed feather paints, Air Faeries bartered with bolts of cloth, and Earth Faeries spun delicate candle webs. Brigitta caught a whiff of baking pipberries and her stomach growled in response.

She spotted the three girls as they passed the pink and green tingermint tent, their fresh destiny markings taunting her as she buzzed along behind them. Tilan, the eldest, proudly sported wings marked with a blue moon and three silver shooting stars, the symbols for a Star Teller.

That wouldn’t be so bad, staring up at the sky each night, thought Brigitta as she dodged a family of burly Earth Faeries.

Tilan and her two friends stopped at a tent where a wispy Air Faerie woman was weaving white lyllium flowers into a basket. Brigitta landed behind them, stumbled on a tent peg, and knocked into the weaver. The girls laughed as Brigitta apologized to the Air Faerie.

Brigitta of Tiragarrow! said Kyllia, a radiant golden-hued faerie whose wings bore the markings of a Village-Nest Caretaker.

Running errands for your momma and poppa? asked Tilan.

No . . . I . . . Brigitta stepped back and tucked in her immature wings.

Where’s Himalette? You’re not babysitting today? Tilan looked around the marketplace.

No . . . well . . .

Why don’t you come with us then? teased Dinnae, pink and plump with a wide smile. She leaned closer. We’re going to the Center Realm to watch the festival preparations. She fluttered her rosy wings, freshly colored with an inner eye glyph and two radiating lines at the tip of each.

You’ve got your destiny markings, said Brigitta, pointing at Dinnae’s wings.

Well, nothing gets past you, does it? said Dinnae. You must get your smarts from your poppa.

The other two burst out laughing.

The two male Center Realm faeries emerged from the crowd and presented Tilan, Kyllia, and Dinnae with yellow flutterscarves. Brigitta stood quietly as they all turned to leave.

Aren’t you coming along? asked Tilan, waving her new flutterscarf.

Brigitta wondered how many gundlebeans her momma would ask her to shell if she ditched Himalette in Gyllenhale. Sure, I’ll . . . first . . . I have to . . . Brigitta motioned vaguely behind her.

Get permission from your Auntie? suggested Dinnae.

The three girls batted their eyelashes at Brigitta, who said nothing.

Come on, let’s go, said one of the Elder Apprentices.

They left Brigitta standing there without a good-bye, laughter trailing after them like their scarves.

Brigitta landed on Fernatta’s porch and entered the cottage. She could hear her Auntie in the gathering room, deep into her lesson.

Auntie, I was just wondering— began Brigitta as she stepped into the room.

Do not interrupt, child. Fernatta glanced up from her Chronicler’s book, her silvery hair dancing like fire.

Sitting on the floor in front of her, a dozen large-eyed faerie boys and girls burst into giggles. Himalette sat in the front row playfully shaking her finger at her older sister. Brigitta glared at her.

Yes, Auntie. Brigitta slid down to the floor.

Fernatta turned back to her students. Although all teachers in the White Forest were called Auntie and Uncle, Auntie Ferna really was Brigitta’s Auntie. She was her Great Auntie, her poppa’s mother’s sister, and Brigitta often flew between their two village-nests trading objects back and forth for them. She didn’t mind flying errands so much, as long as her momma didn’t make her drag Himalette along with her.

Like every other teacher in the White Forest, the ends of Fernatta’s wings were marked with two circles, one inside the other, resembling the two moons or the inner part of an eye, and two radiating lines. The direction of the radiating lines, downwards toward water and earth, meant she was a Chronicler, and was in charge of teaching the children faerie lore and history.

It is important to remember, Fernatta addressed the children, "that the Festival of Elements is not all fun and games. Our forest depends upon the magic of the festival. The exact combination of elements protects the forest from the beasts who would love access to our home.

As long as the Elders balance the elements at the end of each growing season, the forest is protected, Fernatta continued. Brigitta mouthed the rest of the familiar words as Fernatta spoke them aloud, And those nasty beasts can only dream of getting inside.

Folding her arms over her knees, she sighed and stared at a patch of light streaming in through the window. She pictured Dinnae’s new destiny markings: inner eye circles with lines radiating toward fire and earth. So, she was to become a Cooking Teacher, thought Brigitta. How terribly dull.

A fluttery shadow appeared and danced in the light. Another shadow joined it and Brigitta watched as the two shadowflies flitted around each other. Up and down and around, the shadows made their way across the floor and onto a set of old books in a bookshelf made of interlocking tree branches.

The shadows danced a moment more, then disappeared from the light. Brigitta stared at the spines of the books on the bottom shelf. She turned her head sideways so she could read the titles: Faerie Lore & Lineage . . . Songs & Dances . . . Potions & Recipes . . . Maps & Passages . . .

Brigitta glanced up at Auntie Ferna, still absorbed in her lesson, then slipped Maps & Passages from the shelf and opened the book. The first page contained a map of the entire White Forest. The Earth Realm was spread across the top, the Air Realm to the east, the Fire Realm to the south, and the Water Realm in the west.

She flipped through the pages. There were detailed maps of each village-nest, starting with the Earth Realm: Dmvyle, Grobjahar, Ithcommon, Gyllenhale . . . She flipped past them all until she got to her home, the village-nest of Tiragarrow in the Water Realm.

A blue line marking Spring River flowed east of Tiragarrow. She followed the line down to where Spring River ended at Precipice Falls and the water tumbled down into a series of underground caverns running the length of the White Forest. Dozens of dotted lines spread out from the falls across the page. She traced the dotted lines with her finger, then stopped. The dotted blue lines . . . the underground caverns . . . someone had mapped them! Someone, at some point in time, had explored the caverns and drawn up this map.

She turned back through the pages and took a closer look at each one. There were dotted lines running through every single village-nest. Some branched off of others, and some seemed to start and stop at random. She wondered who had mapped them all and how come she had never heard anyone mention it before. All faerie children were told the caverns were water channels that kept the forest lush and fertile. She hadn’t even considered that it was possible to explore them.

Auntie Ferna’s voice cut into Brigitta’s thoughts: The Great Hourglass of Protection was a gift from the Ancient Ones when they brought us north to this land long ago. It sits in the Center Realm where the High Priestess and Council of Elders preside.

The Center Realm! Brigitta searched through the book until she came to a map of the Center Realm. In the middle of the page, the Hourglass of Protection was labeled in dark silver. Off to the side, a dotted line led from the drawing of a tree stump into the Elder Chambers, fondly referred to as the Hive.

She looked up from the book. Who else knows about this passage, she wondered, staring out over the heads of the young faeries. Turning back to the map, she re-examined the dotted lines. Then, with her heart pounding in her chest, Brigitta carefully and quietly began to rip the page out of the ancient text.

Ever since the Great World Cry many seasons ago, Faweh, the world outside the White Forest, has been in complete elemental chaos.

Fernatta paused and Brigitta’s fingers froze in mid-tear. She peered up at her Auntie, who was leaning in close to her huddled students. There exist dangerous beasts with hideous hearts and haphazard magic. No place for faeries.

Brigitta gave one last quick tug and the page came loose. She folded it twice and tucked it into her tunic pocket.

This is why we must set the Hourglass of Protection just right every season-cycle, so that our forest remains protected. Brigitta?

Brigitta whipped her head up and slammed the book shut. Yes, Auntie!

You had a question?

Uh . . .

The faerie children laughed as Fernatta studied her great niece. Her mouth was stern, but her eyes twinkled. She removed a small turquoise keronium glass from the shelf.

I have something for your poppa. She handed the glass to Brigitta, who got up off the floor and took the fragile object from her Auntie. Be careful with it. This one had to be melted down and reblown four times to get it right.

Brigitta imagined being shut inside a furnace room for many moons and shivered at the idea of being destiny-marked as a Keronium Glass-Blower.

Why don’t you take it to him? I’ll bring Himalette home after her lesson. Fernatta winked at Brigitta.

Of course! Brigitta called, sailing out the door.

Chapter Two

Brigitta sped through the forest to the Center Realm. She dodged the festival organizers and headed to the top of the Water Faerie grandstand. Dozens of faeries had erected booths outside the immense festival grounds and were preparing them for displays of arts and crafts and inventions. She scanned the booths and then turned her attention inside the festival grounds. In three suns time, every faerie in the White Forest would be gathered in the grandstands to watch the resetting of the Hourglass.

The grandstands were divided into four sections, one for each elemental realm, forming a U around a large silver oval platform. Five ornate wooden seats were positioned in front of the platform for the Elders and High Priestess. Suspended above the platform was the gigantic Hourglass of Protection, held in place by a twisted mass of tree branches emerging from two enormous uul trees on either side of the festival grounds.

Brigitta spotted Tilan, Kyllia, and Dinnae at the top of the Air Faerie grandstand, peering over the backside. She fluttered across the arena and landed next to them.

Well, look who’s here! said Tilan in mock amazement.

Where are the boys? asked Brigitta.

They had important work to do for the Elders, said Dinnae.

The festival’s in three suns time, after all, Kyllia pointed out.

They turned to watch four faeries hauling decorations out of a carved trunk. Brigitta examined Kyllia’s wings. Two deep green wisps adorned the ends.

Are you sure you want to be a Village-Nest Caretaker? Brigitta finally asked.

It’s my Life Task, Kyllia said, shrugging her shoulders. Ooh, look! She pointed as the decorators began to string shadowfly lanterns in the trees.

But it’s just one thing. What if you stop liking to do it? What if . . . ? Brigitta couldn’t think of a single thing she liked enough to do for the rest of her seasons.

A dark-haired sprite zipped past, disturbing Brigitta’s thoughts as it narrowly missed her head with the large seed pod it was carrying. Brigitta steadied herself and watched as the sprite dashed off like a mad thunder-bug toward the uul trees.

Did you see that? she asked, pointing toward the unapologetic sprite.

The three girls looked up at Brigitta.

That sprite. It nearly knocked me over with a—with a—big ugly seed pod!

The girls stared at her blankly.

Oh Brigitta, sighed Tilan, who cares about fringe faeries at a time like this?

I know you’re probably a little jealous of our new wing markings and have to make up stories for attention. Dinnae patted Brigitta’s arm as if she were a child.

Brigitta fumed. I’m not jealous. It’s just that—Look, it makes complete sense that my poppa has the markings of an Inventor and my momma has the markings of a Feast Master. They like those things. They’re good at those things.

Oh, right. The only thing Brigitta’s good at is daydreaming, said Tilan, winking at the other girls.

I’ve never heard of destiny markings for a Day Dreamer, Kyllia teased.

Maybe she’ll be the first! Dinnae chimed in.

This sent the three faeries into fits of laughter. Brigitta’s ears began to burn.

I’m good at plenty of things . . . Brigitta grumbled. She felt the folded piece of paper in her pocket. I’m good at . . . I’m good at . . . reading maps!

What’s that got to do with anything? asked Tilan.

Follow me and I’ll show you, said Brigitta.

Are we done playing around in the brush? asked Dinnae, examining her hands. She wiped them on a leaf. Let’s go to the river and lie on the sundreaming rocks.

Brigitta and the others were searching through the trees behind the Fire Faerie grandstand. Brigitta gripped the map in her pocket as if that would magically lead them to the hidden entrance.

Yes, let’s, agreed Tilan. I’ve had enough treasure hunting.

Here it is! Brigitta shouted and fluttered her wings. She pointed to an old tree stump, covered in vines. She dropped down and pulled the vines away to reveal a large hole at the base. The others drew in around her. Brigitta poked her head inside and felt a cool breeze. This way.

The entrance was tight. They had to crawl through one at a time until it opened up into an underground passageway carved into the earth. Her friends stumbled and giggled in the dark.

Shhhhh! Brigitta hushed them.

The girls pushed each other along and after several twists in the passageway they saw a dim light streaming in from the stone wall. They gathered around and peered through the gap.

On the other side of the wall was an entryway and past the entryway was a chamber. On the far side of the chamber, illuminated by dozens of long silver candles, High Priestess Ondelle of Grioth was leading the Elders through their spell rehearsals. Ondelle stood tall on her dark frame. Her fiery red wings quivered. Both were marked with a large golden eye and four golden lines radiating in four directions, the destiny markings of a High Priestess.

Each Elder held a miniature hourglass in one hand and a yellow keronium glass in the other. One at a time, Ondelle faced the Elders and waved her hands over the objects. Brigitta held her breath, mesmerized by Ondelle’s long slender fingers dancing so effortlessly, as if supported by the air itself. Ondelle’s deep black eyes glimmered in the candlelight. She turned and pulled her scepter down from a nook in the wall.

Brigitta moved closer to the gap as the Elders gathered around Ondelle and raised their arms. Ondelle turned around in a circle, pointing her scepter toward the Elders.

By the authority of the Eternal Dragon, by the wisdom of the Ancients, by the power of faerie Blue Spell—we charge these sands.

You’d think they’d be sick of practicing by now, they’ve been at it for moons, whispered Dinnae.

They have to get it right. They have to practice because of Hrathgar, Brigitta whispered. A long time ago she tried to steal the power of the Hourglass and was banished from the White Forest.

Everyone knows that, said Kyllia.

The Elders and Ondelle all closed their eyes and began to chant. Brigitta could feel the reverberations of their voices inside her body. Losing herself in the rhythm of the words, she leaned toward the Elders.

Brigitta, move back, we can’t see, shot Dinnae, tugging on Brigitta’s pack.

Ondelle suddenly stopped chanting and opened her eyes. She stared across the room to where the four faerie girls were hiding. Brigitta’s three friends gasped and leapt to their feet, but Brigitta was frozen in place by Ondelle’s black moon eyes. They grew wide and her face stiffened.

Come on! Tilan pulled Brigitta up by her pack straps.

The others fled down the passageway and Brigitta followed. As they emerged from the tree stump, the girls squealed with the delight that mischief brings. Brigitta pretended to laugh with them, looking back over her shoulder, expecting at any moment for Ondelle to come flying out after them.

Chapter Three

Brigitta left her friends in the Center Realm and flew through the forest until she came to Spring River. She headed south with the river, racing the leaves caught in its current. The trees broke away and she turned west into the lyllium field that bordered the Water Realm. The smell of the flowers comforted her, and she slowed down to touch the tops of their white petals. She plucked one and stared into its dark center, picturing Ondelle’s face and her black moon eyes.

She hadn’t dared tell the other girls how that stare had penetrated her. They would have laughed and accused her of trying to draw attention to herself. How easily they had dismissed the entire incident, caring more about which boys they would dance with at the festival. But Brigitta couldn’t shake the feeling that Ondelle had known it was her behind the wall, and that Ondelle’s look had meant something.

Brigitta hovered in the middle of the field and stared across the dreamy whiteness. She thought about flying down to Precipice Falls to see if she could find another secret passageway, but then remembered the delivery she had for her poppa. Instead, she blew a kiss to the lylliums and headed toward Tiragarrow.

Brigitta’s cottage was on the southern edge of the village-nest above a moss glade. The trees in back of their cottage were covered in tangled vines on which the girls could swing into the downy green.

She arrived home to find Auntie Ferna and Himalette sitting on the front porch shelling gundlebeans and singing one of Himalette’s made-up songs. Brigitta’s momma, Pippet of Rioscrea, emerged from the cottage, followed by the aroma of familiar spices used in her famous goldenfew. The fermented gundlebean stew was a festival favorite.

Just in time, her momma laughed, handing Brigitta a glass of iced frommafin. She handed drinks to Himalette and Fernatta. Like your poppa, she added, holding up a fourth glass for Mousha as his ruddy face appeared in the doorway.

So, Mousha of Grobjahar, you haven’t disappeared into the ether after all? Fernatta teased her nephew.

Mousha pouted as he handed a well-worn potion book to Fernatta. If I’d known you were going to collect your book today . . .

You may borrow it back again after the festival, said Fernatta.

Hey, Poppa, here. Brigitta pulled the turquoise keronium glass from her pack.

Mousha’s eyes lit up and he clapped his hands in approval. He ran back to his cluttered laboratory to search for a proper gift in trade.

Fernatta examined the bright pink liquid in her glass and then sniffed it. Pippet paused at the door. Her golden hair was swept into a haphazard pile on her round faerie head. Loose curls stuck to her face and the backs of her dusty coral wings.

Fernatta took a slow sip, swirling it around in her mouth before swallowing. Ahhh! she exclaimed. How do you make such a perfect refreshment every time?

Pippit only smiled as she made her way back to the kitchen, taking Himalette and the shelled gundlebeans with her.

Mousha re-emerged and presented Fernatta with a tiny red spout snake which she accepted with a gracious smile. Brigitta waved good-bye to the snake as Fernatta tucked it into her tunic pocket. She bid them good-bye and swooped off the porch, leaving her signature cloud of crotia flower scent behind. Mousha patted Brigitta’s head and retreated to his laboratory with the keronium glass, his little yellow wings tapping together like contemplative fingers.

Brigitta followed him into the lab and sank down into her favorite mushroom chair, watching his round body bounce about the room. His right wing was stubbornly twisted where he had injured it collecting thunderbugs as a boy. The brown marks on the ends of his wings looked like dot-less question marks.

Poppa, Ondelle’s a deodyte . . . said Brigitta.

Mousha held his new keronium glass up to the light. Magnificent.

She has two elements, Air and Fire.

What’s that? Oh, yes, two elements. Very rare. Rare indeed. He set the glass down and pulled a jar from the shelf.

But what’s that feel like? Is it like having another faerie inside of you?

Three glassfuls? Mousha asked himself. No, four. He reached into the jar and began to scoop keronium glassfuls of a powder into a large beaker of liquid. The liquid turned deep purple. He gave the beaker a little shake.

Brigitta sighed and got up from the chair. She fluttered to the door. The frame was wrapped with a gundlebean vine on which Mousha strung his thunderbug symphony during special occasions. Brigitta stroked the leaves of the vine. They resembled enormous green dewdrops. One of them began to vibrate.

Poppa, are you going to string the symphony? she asked hopefully, opening the vibrating leaf.

Mousha grumbled from inside the lab and Brigitta looked up as a sad poof of purple smoke fell off the table and landed on the floor. Bog stench! he swore.

Brigitta turned back to the vine just as an orange thunderbug darted up from the opened leaves. It weaved through the air and into Mousha’s lab. It flew about his head and he absentmindedly swatted it away as he examined a large vial of smoke-colored liquid.

Brigitta watched, amused, as the bug explored the room. Mousha poured the smoky liquid into a tube of pink liquid. It immediately bubbled over. He lifted the vial up to the light and gave a satisfied nod. The thunderbug buzzed over and landed on his hand.

Ahhh! Mousha shrieked and fumbled the vial, spattering pink liquid across his face and chest. The vial fell to the ground and shattered.

You . . . you! he sputtered pink bubbles from his lips. He searched the room for the intruder as it hovered high above his head.

Brigitta put her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

Mousha looked up. Aha!

He picked up a crystal atomizer and squeezed it at the thunderbug, missing it entirely. The bug zigzagged around the room as Mousha chased it with his bug stunner, flinging pink spots across every wall. The thunderbug landed on a shelf above his work table.

Mousha fluttered up to the shelf on his little wings. I’ve got you now!

Brigitta! her momma’s voice called.

Brigitta turned toward the kitchen. Pippet stood in the doorway with a spoon in one hand and a handful of gundlebeans in the other. Himalette peered out from behind her.

You know your poppa is working very hard and—

There was a CRASH from the laboratory. Pippet and Himalette rushed to the door. Pippet tried not to laugh as she caught sight of Mousha, bug stunner in one hand, shelf in the other, pink liquid dripping from his chin. In the window sill, the thunderbug sat cleaning itself, emitting low drum beats of annoyance.

I won’t be working on anything at all, Mousha said, frowning at the floor, until I get this mess cleaned up.

They all looked at the broken shards on the ground.

Sorry, Poppa, said Brigitta sincerely as Mousha stared weepy eyed at the remains. His yellow wings tapped together.

Come on, then, said Pippet, rolling up her sleeves. Let’s help him out.

They cleaned up the lab, caught the thunderbug, and put it in a jar for Himalette. When they were done, Pippet gave a satisfied nod. Then her face fell. My stew!

Pippet and the girls flew to the kitchen, where the fermented gundlebeans blurped away. Pippet took one whiff and shook her head. Well, this won’t do.

I’ll get rid of it for you, Momma, said Brigitta.

Take Himalette with you, said Pippet as she doused the fire. I’ve got a lot of chopping to do.

My friends don’t have to take their little sisters with them everywhere they go!

Please, Brigitta, just take your sister and dump the stew. Pippet eyed Brigitta sternly. No shenanigans and no trips to the Center Realm.

I could do it faster on my own, said Brigitta.

That’s enough.

Brigitta grumbled to herself as she poked a stick at the dying embers beneath the hot vat. Suddenly inspired, she turned to her sister, Himmy, make yourself useful. Grab Poppa’s bug stunner and his globelight and the vine from the doorway. We’re going to fix up his symphony.

Brigitta and Himalette peered over the northern edge of Tiragarrow. The warm vat of goldenfew sat between them. Together they tipped it and spilled the stewy contents over the side. Himalette squealed as it sloshed over the trees and bushes and onto the ground below. Brigitta crouched down at the edge of the village-nest and Himalette crawled up beside her.

Maybe they won’t come? she said. Maybe they don’t like goldenfew anymore. Or maybe it’s a specially bad batch.

Shhhh, Brigitta silenced her sister.

Himalette leaned her chin out over the forest. She made soft popping sounds with her lips for a few moments and then rolled over onto her back and stared at the patches of sky through the tree branches. A loud buzz careened past and they both sat up. They watched and listened as hisses came in swarms from the river, sparkles came in flocks from the lyllium field, and buzzes came in bursts from every other direction. A silent formation of tiny shadows flitted through the trees and landed on a stew-covered branch.

Shadowflies! Himalette floated up on excited wings.

Brigitta yanked her back down. We’re waiting for the thunderbugs.

On cue, there was a burst of little clashing beats. Ricocheting off the trunks of the trees, vibrating beasts of all different sizes, shapes, and colors made their way to the steamy mess below. All the other flying, blinking, and zipping beasts abandoned the meal and slipped back into the forest.

Once the thunderbugs had polished off the stew, they settled into the branches to digest it, emitting a steady stream of drunken hiccups as they lazed and swayed. The faerie sisters leapt off the edge of the village-nest and glided to the ground. Brigitta examined four thunderbugs wobbling across a branch while Himalette plucked a tiny yellow beast from a leaf and placed it in a jar.

Only the biggest and loudest ones, Himmy. Brigitta pulled out the atomizer and sprayed a vivid pink bug with an enormous vibrating bottom.

I’m going to make up a song for the thunderbugs! declared Himalette. Thunderbugs, how you twinkle and shine, how you twinkle and shine . . .

Thunderbugs don’t twinkle. Or shine. Brigitta sprayed and plucked a drunken thunderbug from a branch and placed it in a jar, doing her best to pretend that Himalette was in another world, one that was so far away she couldn’t be heard.

She practiced her favorite ignoring technique, a hum that radiated from the space between her eyes. Hmmmmmmmmmnnnnnnnn . . . she hummed as she continued through the trees, spraying and plucking thunderbugs until she reached the lyllium field. She placed the jars of bugs inside her pack and turned back toward Tiragarrow.

Himalette? Brigitta called. Then louder, Hima-lette!

Her voice echoed through the trees.

Himmy! she growled.

The faint sound of laughter danced in the air.

Brigitta followed the laughter into the trees until she came across a large fallen log that sounded suspiciously like a giggling young faerie.

Himalette, come out of there, Brigitta commanded.

I found a sprite! I found a sprite! Himalette called back from inside the log.

Leave it alone.

She’s pretty.

Don’t touch it! Brigitta climbed into the long, narrow log. She could see Himalette farther down, illuminated by a blue light. Himalette squealed, and then the light vanished.

Brigitta removed her pack and dug out her poppa’s globelight. She rubbed the globe a few times to charge it. After it lit up, she made her way through the log, scrunching down as it narrowed. She held the light up to Himalette and gasped. The globelight flickered.

Himalette was blue from her face to her feet. Even her pink wings and blonde hair had blue tints to them. She waved her blue fingers in front of her eyes.

Aw, Himalette, I told you not to touch it. Brigitta shook her head. You know sprites are full of stupid tricks.

She gave me her blue, Himalette said, checking the underside of her arms.

What do you mean she gave you her blue?

She gave me her blue. Then she went up there. Himalette pointed to a hole in the top of the log. Brigitta squinted up at it and saw nothing but forest and sky.

Come on, twerp. Maybe Poppa can turn you back. Brigitta smirked. Maybe, she said under her breath. She turned to exit the log.

Himalette pouted and rubbed her shoulder against the rough interior of the log.

Brigitta, it itches, she whined.

Serves you right.

Brigitta grabbed Himalette’s hand. The warm blue instantly shot from Himalette’s hand up Brigitta’s arm all the way to her face. She could feel it spreading down her body and legs and finally her toes.

Oh, great. I should have left you tied to a tree, Brigitta moaned as she pulled Himalette toward the opening of the log.

There was a bright flash from somewhere outside and a loud, low hum. The log trembled; the globelight went out. A moment later everything was dark and still.

What was that? asked Himalette, frozen mid-scratch.

I don’t know.

They quietly felt their way through the log. They emerged from the end and peered through the trees. Nothing looked any different, but there was something odd about the forest, something Brigitta couldn’t quite place. Out of Water Faerie instinct, they both looked to the sky. The sun was out, there were very few clouds, and Brigitta could feel no storm on the horizon.

I’m scared, whispered Himalette.

Shhhhhhh, said Brigitta.

I want to go home.

Stay here.

Himalette sat in the mouth of the log, scratching her itchy blue face, while Brigitta made her way back toward the lyllium field. When she got there, it looked the same as it had before, but something was definitely wrong. After a moment, she realized what it was. The field was too still. There were no buzzing or flying beasts anywhere.

Not one shadowfly, Brigitta muttered as she looked across the field to the other side. Not one—

Himalette’s screaming cut the silence and Brigitta raced back to the log to find her sister pressed up against it.

What? Brigitta shook Himalette. What!?!

Himalette pointed to the ground with a trembling finger.

The sprite lay there, motionless and gray.

Brigitta picked up a stick and poked at the sprite. It didn’t budge. Brigitta bent down and touched it, then retracted her blue hand in horror.

It’s turned to stone! she exclaimed.

Himalette began to cry.

Stop that! Brigitta scolded, more harshly than she had intended.

She opened her pack and pulled out one of the jars. Three stone thunderbugs sat inside. It was definitely some sort of sprite trickery, Brigitta tried to convince herself, she’d make a complaint to the Elders. She dropped the jar back into her pack and put it on so that it swung from the front. Come on, lola, I’ll carry you home.

Himalette sniffled as she climbed onto her sister’s back and snuggled between her wings. She folded her own wings flat along her backside. As soon as Brigitta was airborne and heading toward Tiragarrow, the image of Ondelle’s face interrupted her thoughts. That expression Ondelle had made, she suddenly realized what it meant. It was the look of someone who had just been warned.

Chapter Four

Himalette’s head bobbed up and down as Brigitta wove around the rocks and branches. The eerie stillness followed them. No buzzing. No chirping. No fluttering.

Brigitta stopped and gazed up at their village-nest. No sounds echoed from the trees. Himmy, I have to put you down, all right?

Himalette stepped down from her sister’s back.

Stay behind me, Brigitta warned, and don’t touch anything.

They flew up to the edge of the village-nest. It was completely still. No faeries flew in or out of the nest on festival errands. The nearest cottage belonged to Orl and Edl Featherkind. Orl was Tiragarrow’s Caretaker and Edl harvested tingermint in neat little rows in front of their home, which resembled a giant yellow squash stuffed inside a tree with a porch bursting outward from the front door.

Edl Featherkind sat near the doorway with a pile of tingermint sprigs in her lap. She wasn’t paying attention to the sprigs, however, she was squinting into the forest.

Edl Featherkind? Brigitta called. Edl didn’t move. Not an eyebrow. Not a wingtwitch.

Brigitta and Himalette crept closer until they noticed a peculiar grayness to Edl’s skin. They gasped as they realized she had turned to stone.

They leapt back in fear, knocking into Orl Featherkind who dangled by his foot from a vine, his eyes wide in alarm. They stared as he swung back and forth. The trees creaked above them.

Brigitta reached out to stop him from swinging. The creaking ceased and a moment later, Orl plunged to the ground and landed with a loud crack as his right arm broke off.

Himalette shrieked, piercing the stillness. Brigitta grabbed her and pulled her close.

Be quiet, Himmy. Shhhh. Brigitta scanned the surrounding trees.

But you killed him, Briggy, you killed him! cried Himalette.

I didn’t kill him, Brigitta insisted, feeling sick to her stomach.

You broke him!

I—I didn’t—he can be—fixed.

They looked down at Orl Featherkind. He was definitely broken. They looked back up at each other in panic.

Momma and Poppa! the sisters cried.

The young faeries entered their cottage and made their way to the kitchen. Pippet’s stone body leaned over her new pot of bubbling goldenfew. Her head was turned toward the window, a startled look upon her face.

Momma! Himalette ran toward her mother, but Brigitta yanked her back.

Brigitta nodded in the direction of the broken faerie outside. Himalette stood there shaking and whimpering as Brigitta tip-toed to the counter and picked up a pitcher of water. She leaned over and doused the fire underneath the pot.

Don’t go anywhere, Brigitta whispered. I need to check on Poppa.

Himalette nodded gravely as Brigitta made her way to Mousha’s laboratory. She froze in the doorway.

Mousha was balanced in the window sill on his hands and knees.

Himalette entered behind her, crying into a pillow.

Shhhhh! Be careful, Brigitta warned. We have to get Poppa down.

She took a cautious step toward him. Then another, and another. She slowly reached out for his left wing. Himalette drew in her breath. Mousha’s balance shifted and he plummeted over the side of the window.

No! The girls screamed as they heard his stone body crashing through the branches below.

Brigitta zoomed out the window faster than she’d ever flown before. She dove after Mousha as he fell through the trees. She grabbed a hold of his leg and flapped her wings as hard as she could, but she could barely slow him down. She felt movement above her, and then Himalette was there, grabbing her leg.

As they rapidly approached the ground, they became tangled in the dangling tree vines. The vines wrapped around their legs and bodies and pulled them back, catching their fall just before they hit the ground. They hung there, frozen in disbelief.

Brigitta finally let out her breath. Can you untangle yourself?

I think so, whispered Himalette.

Be careful.

Himalette unwrapped herself from the vines and fluttered to the earth. She dragged a large clump of moss from the glade and they lowered Mousha onto it.

They dropped down beside him and inspected him from head to toe.

I think he’s okay, Brigitta sighed, other than . . . She glanced over at Himalette, who was stroking their poppa’s stone head. Brigitta felt a storm of tears gathering inside of her. She immediately swallowed them and tightened her jaw.

Himalette looked up at her sister. Her cheeks were stained with blue-tinted tears. Brigitta wiped them with her sleeve. Come on, she coaxed, we’ll go to the Elders. They’ll know what to do.

The sun was sinking over the forest by the time Brigitta and Himalette arrived at the Center Realm. They were exhausted and Brigitta was worried about her sister. Himalette had never been so quiet in all her life. Under different circumstances, Brigitta would have been overjoyed by the absence of silly songs and annoying questions.

As soon as Brigitta and Himalette landed, they knew all the faeries in the Center Realm were turned to stone as well. They held each other, trembling, as they passed two faeries frozen in the middle of raising a banner. Another three were assembling booths. Brigitta swiftly herded Himalette away from a faerie whose leg had broken off when it fell to the ground, and past another whose wings lay shattered beneath her. There were frozen faeries in mid-taste of food, showing plans to festival organizers, and sitting in the trees holding decorations. All of the faeries’ faces were turned in the direction of the Hourglass.

Brigitta and Himalette made their way past the grandstands and into the arena. They surveyed what looked like a battle scene, or at least what Brigitta imagined a battle scene looked like, as she had never witnessed one. Everywhere she looked there were frightened stone faeries: some in the stands, some on the ground, some hanging in the giant uul trees, some whole, some broken. Himalette gripped Brigitta’s hand as they stepped through the arena toward the platform.

They had never been this close to the Hourglass. No one was allowed on the platform without an Elder. They climbed the silver stairs and gazed, dejected, at the figure of Ondelle, their High Priestess. She stood overlooking the festival grounds with a determined expression. Her scepter lay on the platform in front of her. Himalette reached down to pick it up, then stopped herself before Brigitta could scold her. She scratched her blue shoulders as they stared at Ondelle’s stone face. Brigitta could no longer hold her tears. They streamed down her cheeks as she choked on her sobs.

Briggy?

Brigitta didn’t respond. She wiped her tears away with quivering fingers and did her best to compose herself. She studied Ondelle’s eyes, no longer intense pools of black, but hard and gray. Even turned to stone, Brigitta thought she was the most beautiful faerie in the White Forest.

She turned and looked in the direction Ondelle was looking. Every other faerie Brigitta could see was facing the Hourglass, but Ondelle had her back to the Hourglass, and was looking out over her faeries. Brigitta gazed down at the scepter.

She had the look of someone who had just been warned.

She stared back up at Ondelle, willing her eyes to tell her something. What had she been trying to do?

Priestess Ondelle . . . it’s Brigitta . . . of Tiragarrow . . . Please . . . help us.

She reached out and touched Ondelle’s hand. The coldness of her fingers shocked Brigitta and she leapt back. Her foot hit the scepter, knocking it from the platform, down the steps, and into the dirt below.

Horrified, Brigitta flew down to retrieve it. Next to the scepter was an open black seed pod, the same kind the rude sprite had been carrying earlier that day.

She picked up the seed pod and examined it. It was surprisingly light, but firm. She knocked on it with her knuckles and turned it over in her hand.

Hey Briggy, watch! called Himalette from the platform.

Brigitta placed the seed pod in her pack, retrieved the scepter, and flew back up to the platform. She found Himalette pressed up against the branches that cradled the Hourglass, watching the sands inside fall like a heavy, rainbow-colored rain.

Himalette reached out to touch the glass.

No! cried Brigitta.

It’s okay, Himalette insisted and she tapped on the glass. As she did, little blue sparks flew off her finger. See? It likes me!

Brigitta pulled Himalette’s finger away. That’s enough.

Brigitta turned to survey the scene once more. She went back to Ondelle and carefully placed the scepter in her hand. Then she looked out to the frightened faeries on the festival grounds. What were they all looking at?

Maybe this is where the bright light came from? Himalette offered, before everyone became . . . Her voice trailed off and her eyes filled with tears.

But the Hourglass protects the White Forest, Brigitta insisted, gazing up at it. The top half was nearly empty. The bottom half held a mountain of multi-colored sands.

Briggy, what happens when the Hourglass runs out?

Chapter Five

For the first time in her young life, Brigitta wished she had paid more attention to her Auntie Ferna’s lessons. Being able to string a thunder-bug symphony wasn’t going to help them now. She didn’t know exactly what would happen when the Hourglass ran out since no living faerie knew a time when the Hourglass hadn’t protected the forest by keeping the elements balanced and harmful beasts at bay. And even though she couldn’t remember the details, she did know that without the Hourglass there would be no White Forest. It was how the Ancients had protected them long ago and how it had been ever since.

Brigitta began to suspect that she and Himalette were the only two unchanged faeries left in the forest. Their spirits sank lower and lower with each stone faerie they passed. Eventually, it dawned on them that all the other beasts were stone as well: the snakes, the birds, the beetles, the grovens. The grovens were especially pitiful, with sad wide stone eyes and clownish stone lips. Himalette patted the top of a groven’s head as she passed, then reached down and gave it a careful squeeze. Its bulbous toad-like face didn’t respond.

There was only one faerie left in the entire forest who Brigitta thought might be able to help them. This was truly her last hope, and she didn’t have much hope at that, but she didn’t say this to Himalette as they flew northwest toward Gyllenhale.

When their wings grew weak, they ran. When they could no longer run, they plodded along until Himalette tripped over a root and collapsed into tears. She climbed onto Brigitta’s back. With aching arms she held Himalette steady with one hand and the flickering globelight with the other. She hummed along the way to keep them both company.

Himalette was falling asleep by the time they arrived. Brigitta roused her, for she was far too tired to carry Himalette up to Auntie Ferna’s cottage. With the last of their energy, they fluttered up to their auntie’s porch.

Brigitta handed Himalette the globelight.

You stay here, lola, Brigitta said, I’m going to see if Auntie Ferna is home. If she’s—

Broken? Himalette asked.

Just stay here, Brigitta instructed.

Briggy, how come everyone turned to stone except us?

I don’t know.

What are we going to do? Himalette was too tired to cry.

We’ll stay the night here and decide in the morning.

Brigitta entered the dark cottage and waited for her eyes to adjust. She eased her way toward the kitchen. Auntie Ferna? she called as she picked up a breath-lantern. Brigitta blew into it and a small orange flame appeared inside.

Auntie Fer— she stopped herself as she entered the den and spotted Fernatta, who stood immobile over a potion book on a pedestal. She lifted the lantern and craned her neck. It was the same book Fernatta had retrieved from Mousha earlier that day.

She looked up at her Auntie’s face as every last bit of hope drained from her body. Fernatta was looking anxiously out the window, no doubt just as surprised as everyone else by the strange and sudden flash of light.

Himalette screamed from outside. Brigitta flew through the cottage smack into Himalette in the doorway.

I saw something! Himalette cried. Something moved in the forest.

It was just the wind in the trees, Brigitta said.

They both listened. The night was completely still.

Come inside, Brigitta said, guiding Himalette into the cottage. Let’s see if we can find a way to change our skin back.

Himalette scratched her blue face as she entered. Brigitta glanced out into the trees one last time before closing the door.

After placing a scarf over Fernatta’s head to cover her face, Brigitta set Himalette in front of a warm fire in the den and grabbed the potion book from the pedestal. Sorry, Auntie, she said.

She looked down and spotted her poppa’s tiny red spout snake peering up at her from inside Fernatta’s pocket.

Hey there, cooed Brigitta. She grabbed a small vile and slipped the spout snake into it. She capped the vile and held it up to her face. You’re lucky you’re an invention, or I bet you’d be turned to stone, too.

She warmed some gundlebeans and made a pot of tingermint tea. She served up the modest meal in the den. Himalette ate quietly by the fire, scratching her legs between spoonfuls, while Brigitta perched at a high table surrounded by pots and jars. She placed Fernatta’s potion book on the table.

I should have paid more attention to my lessons, moaned Brigitta, searching through the book. She located a color changing potion and hoped it would work. She wasn’t sure if it was meant for faeries, but it was the only thing she could find. She didn’t understand how Fernatta’s book was organized and there weren’t many illustrations.

Dragon Flower dew . . . Brigitta read the labels off all the jars. Aha. She grabbed the jar, opened the lid, and sniffed, Hmmm . . . She poured a yellow keronium glassful into a bowl.

Himalette picked a stick out of the woodbox and poked at a stone spider on the hearth. Even the spiders are turned to stone, Himalette sighed.

Dried sharmock root . . . Brigitta counted three sand-petals full of the dark orange shrivels and added them to the mix. Then she added a few drops of a dark brown syrup simply labeled alterings.

I wonder if the worms underground are stone, too? continued Himalette.

Mix with licotia nectar . . . Brigitta poured the various liquids into a large beaker. Allow bubbles to settle to the bottom . . .

And little baby birds inside of eggs.

Done, Brigitta declared, I think. She peered suspiciously at the dark mixture, then sniffed it. Only one way to find out. She retrieved two chalices from the cupboard.

Himalette threw the stick into the fire and crawled over to the stone spider. She tapped it with her finger.

"But he doesn’t turn blue, like when