by Gail Herman
Okay, she thought. All I have to do is take off this mosscloth and I’ll be perfectly fine. I can get back to work.
Smiling happily, she removed the mosscloth. “Oh, no!” She drew in her breath. Her eyesight was even worse!
Her nightstand looked like a shapeless blob. Her bed was a bigger blob.
Oh, tracks and trails! She couldn’t bear to stay in her room, resting, another minute! She had to move, had to track, had to scout.
Would it make that much difference if she got up and got going? Clara had said her eyes would heal by themselves, hadn’t she? And didn’t that mean with or without rest?
Myka felt around under the bed. She pulled out her shoes, then slipped them on. Somehow, she’d have to act the way she always did. Somehow, she’d disguise the fact that she even had a problem.
Myka stood up tall. She was ready…for dinner.
She flew down the hallway but paused at the door to the tearoom. Getting there was simple. She’d flown up and down the Home Tree halls so often, she could do it in her sleep. She knew the layout of the tearoom as well. The scout table stood along the far end, facing the biggest window. All the scouts sat there in a row, looking out into Pixie Hollow.
Myka stepped lightly into the room. It should be fine if no one flew too close.…
“Watch out, Myka!” A fast-flying fairy zipped past. Myka pressed herself against the wall. She waited a moment. But she couldn’t just stand there forever. Was anyone else coming?
Her nose and ears tingled, and her fingertips itched. Her other senses were on high alert.
Myka heard the kitchen door swing open. From inside came the soft clatter of plates being lifted off trays. The aroma of sweet biscuits drifted past.
A fairy fluttered close by. She smelled of flour and cocoa and cinnamon.
Dulcie!
“Dinner looks delicious, Dulcie,” Myka said.
“We’re having my four-layer maple cake tonight!” Dulcie told her. “Thanks to your help, of course! I’ll ask the serving talents to serve the scout table first, in your honor.”
Myka sniffed. Was that a lavender scent now? “Why, Lily!” she cried. “Late for dinner?”
“Just a little!” Lily laughed. “You’re not even sitting yet!”
Smiling and nodding at fairies she could barely see, Myka made her way to the scout table. She strained to hear every voice.
“Look, there’s Myka.”
“She actually found a needle, and the dish covers for Dulcie!”
“I guess she doesn’t have a problem after all.”
“Did you see the new portrait of Queen Clarion?”
“I did! It looks absolutely lovely!”
“I passed it in the lobby just now!”
Myka edged around some chairs. Now she smelled berry paint and brush cleaner.
“Congratulations, Bess!” she said to the dim shape in front of her. “Your portrait is a big success!”
“That’s nice of you to say, Myka,” Bess replied.
It’s working! Myka thought. I have everyone fooled!
She slipped into her usual seat at the scout table. She nodded all around, hoping she was actually looking at fairies.
She worked extra hard at reaching for dishes. She couldn’t see much. But she sensed objects, and that was a help.
Serving talents whisked away plates. Myka sighed. Dinner was almost over. Only dessert remained.
“So.” She turned to Trak, sitting on her right. “Should we plan that group patrol?”
“Sounds good,” Trak began. He paused so that a serving talent could place dessert on the table. “Let’s—”
“Stop, everyone! Stop!” Iris rushed into the tearoom. Myka had no trouble recognizing her panicked voice. “Don’t eat the cake! Don’t even touch it!” she shrieked.
“Why, what’s the matter?” Dulcie hurried in after her.
Iris whirled to face her. “Those dessert dish covers Myka brought you?
They’re not bellflowers. They’re phlox-gloves!” She waved her book in the air as proof.
Myka’s heart sank. Did that make a difference?
“Phloxgloves are poisonous!” Iris cried. “The cake is poisoned!”
Everyone gasped, then fell silent. Myka felt their stares. Quickly, she stood up. Her chair fell backward.
No one else moved.
Myka edged clumsily from the table. Flustered and upset, she couldn’t find her way.
She smelled berry paint and knew Bess was at her side. “It’s all right,” Bess said. “No one was hurt. Don’t worry.”
“Yes, Myka. Don’t worry.” Myka heard Queen Clarion’s calm, steady voice from across the room. She felt the air move around her, and the queen stood next to her. “The kitchen and cleaning talents will scrub everything free of poison—including themselves.”
Myka took a deep breath, relieved. Then she felt everyone’s eyes still on her. They were all judging the scout who couldn’t tell one flower from another.
They all knew her eyesight was failing.
Queen Clarion touched her arm. “But Myka, I need to see you in my chambers.”
QUEEN CLARION LED Myka to her sitting room. “I’ve asked Clara to come, too,” the queen explained. “I thought it might be helpful.”
The queen was being kind. But Myka knew what she really meant. The nursing talent would make sure she didn’t try to scout—maybe ever again.
Just at that moment, Clara flew in. Myka heard the sound of her wings.
“Now then.” Queen Clarion settled onto the couch. Myka and Clara sat on chairs across from her. “It seems to me that Myka should be off duty.”
“But—” Myka interrupted.
The queen held up a hand. “For now, just for now.” Her voice was calm and soothing. “This isn’t a punishment. No one doubts how much you want to help. But this is for your own good. You need time to heal.”
“That’s just what I told her!” Clara put in.
“I know you’re not happy about this,” the queen went on. “But you have to wear the mosscloth all day, every day.”
Clara scribbled on her clipboard.
“B-b-b-ut then I won’t be able to see at all!” Myka protested. “How can I do—”
“Exactly!” said the queen with a smile. “You can’t do anything—but rest.”
Clara wrapped the moss around Myka’s eyes. Everything went dark. This was so unfair! Doing this to a scouting talent!
Myka sniffed. Berry paint!
Bess must have come in. “Bess will take you to your room now,” Queen Clarion said. “I hope you feel better.”
Myka nodded, miserable. Her room! She’d be stuck there. Just like a bird with a broken wing, unable to leave her nest.
“You’ll see,” Bess said as she guided Myka through the halls. “You’ll be better in no time.”
She patted Myka on the shoulder. “We’re here. Will you be okay in your bedroom?” Bess asked.
There was no way Myka was going to stay inside. A prisoner!
“Sure,” said Myka. “Fly with you later.”
She waited for Bess to turn and go. Then, trailing behind, she followed Bess’s scent—all through the Home Tree and outside to her studio.
“Myka!” Bess spun toward her, surprised.
“See?” Myka grumbled. “I can still get around. I’m not totally useless.”
“No one said you were. But what about resting?” Bess asked.
“I can rest right here,” Myka said.
“I guess so. It would probably be lonely up there, anyway,” Bess agreed. “But you still need to keep that moss on!”
Myka smiled. At least she’d scored one small victory. “Need any scouting work done?”
Bess led her to a small walnut table. Myka began pulling mouse hairs from a pile. Using her sense of touch, she could find the very finest hairs. Bess would want those for her new paintbrush.
“Everything started when I landed in that field of strange flowers.” M
yka shook her head in disgust.
“Strange? How?” Bess asked.
“Well, the flower petals came together in a ball shape. Then they opened up and puffed air.” Myka thought for a moment. “Those bursts of air were so sharp and strong. I can almost smell them now!”
Bess was quiet for a moment. “Hmm. I feel like I’ve seen those flowers somewhere.…They puffed air.…”
Suddenly, Bess jumped up. “Come with me!” She took Myka by the elbow and led her back to the Home Tree, through the hall, and to an out-of-theway branch. In the back, near the top, Myka guessed. She’d never even known there were rooms here.
Bess pushed open the chipped, heavy door. “Not many fairies know about this room,” she explained. “Really, only art talents.”
Myka stood at the door. Then she edged inside, feeling around. “Careful!” Bess warned.
Myka’s fingers told her that cracked and peeling paintings lined the walls. In one corner, she felt pictures stacked floor to ceiling. In another corner, dusty books filled a honeycomb bookcase.
“What is this place?”
“It’s not quite a storage room and not quite a museum,” Bess explained. “It’s a little of both. This is where we keep all the ancient paintings. Some are very powerful, like this painting of Havendish Stream on a foggy morning.”
Bess pulled Myka close to one painting. Myka felt mist swirling from the picture, settling around her.
Bess, meanwhile, was lifting paintings and searching in corners. “I seem to remember one picture in particular. It reminds me of that field.”
Carefully, Bess moved some paintings out of the way. “Here it is!”
Myka heard her grunt, then carry a painting closer. Oh, how she wished she could see! Myka touched the canvas. It felt flower-petal soft. Then she smelled it. Nothing.
She heard a low hiss. Then she smelled again. And there it was—that same tangy scent!
“That’s it, Bess,” Myka said. “Those are the flowers. I remember the smell!”
“Myka, I just remembered a story about the art talent who made this painting. It’s a pepper puff field. And while he was painting it, his eyesight started going. He could hardly see at all.”
Bess grabbed Myka’s hand. “Maybe that’s what’s happening!” she said. “You landed in the pepper puffs. And the spray from the flowers is hurting your eyesight!”
Myka took another sniff. The plants in the painting were the same plants she had seen in the field. She felt sure of it.
“Let’s tell Clara,” Bess said. “Now that we know what caused it—”
“She may know how to fix it!” Myka cut in. She let Bess lead her out of the room and straight to the infirmary.
CLARA OPENED A tattered book and flipped through its pages.
“This is the tale of the pepper puff plant,” she explained. “According to legend, the plant has a powerful, dangerous spray. If a fairy lands in a pepper field early in the morning, the flowers wake up cranky and out of sorts. They let out bursts of peppery spray. If the spray settles on a fairy, it weakens her eyesight.”
“So?” Bess asked eagerly. “What else does the book say? Is there a cure?”
Clara frowned and shook her head.
“What?” Myka leaned forward. “Did I miss something?”
She’d been letting Bess do the talking. But she was curious about the legend.
“The only tried and tested cure is rest,” Clara told them.
Disappointed, Myka turned to leave.
“Wait,” said Clara slowly.
Beside Myka, Bess’s wings fluttered with excitement. “Go on, Clara. Please!”
“Well,” Clara continued, “the book does mention a very ancient story of another cure. But it’s never been proved. A bandage made from shimmer moss. The moss grows in one place in Never Land and one place only—a cave behind Indigo Falls.”
“Indigo Falls?” Myka repeated. “That huge waterfall in Tammarin Gorge? I never knew there was a cave there.”
“Well, there’s a reason you didn’t know about it. It’s kept secret.”
“Why?” Myka asked.
“The cave is filled with danger. The bewitched water of the falls snuffs out fairy glows. Inside, it’s darker than any other place.”
Myka laughed. Right now her whole world was as black as a starless night. “That would hardly bother me!”
“There’s a bottomless pit right in its center,” Clara went on.
“So?” Myka shrugged. “I can just fly over it.”
“Your wings will be wet from the waterfall. You won’t be able to fly.”
“Is that all?” asked Myka.
“No.” Clara shook her head.
“Snakes and poison bugs! They live in the depths of the cave.”
Myka sat forward. Now, this was getting interesting! “You think they live in the cave,” she said. “But it’s all just a story.”
“No, no,” Clara insisted. “Don’t think about going into that cave, Myka. It’s much too dangerous. You need to stay home and rest. Wait a few days, and then see what happens.”
“I don’t want to wait!” Myka declared. She fluttered her wings, impatient. The more Clara spoke of the dangers, the more Myka wanted to explore the cave. She couldn’t just sit around Bess’s studio sorting mouse hairs!
“I’m going!” she announced.
“I’ll take you,” Bess volunteered.
“I don’t need anyone to take me,” Myka scoffed. “I’m not some newly arrived fairy. I don’t need anyone’s help.”
Then she paused and spoke quietly. “Bess, I’m a scout. This is something I have to do on my own.”
Myka thought hard. To get to Tammarin Gorge, she’d have to fly through the orchard, over Wough River, near Torth Mountain. She’d been there many times. Of course, that was when she had perfect eyesight.
But it shouldn’t be that difficult, she reasoned. She still had her scout’s sense of direction. Not to mention her other senses, too.
First things first, she thought.
She undid the moss. At least now she could see some light and shapes.
Myka flew to the edge of Pixie Hollow. If she concentrated, this part wouldn’t be hard. She knew the trees and fields and streams as well as she knew her own room. Then she reached the orchard. She took a deep breath.
“Here goes,” she said.
Myka flew slowly. She strained to hear leaves rustle and birds chirp. These were all clues, telling her which way to fly. When she heard a soft rustling to her left, she flew right.
“There!” she said, missing a tree.
She heard a sound to her right and swerved left to aviod a family of robins.
Tap, tap, tap, tap. That was a wood pecker straight ahead.
ZzzzZzzzz. Mosquito to her side.
Myka sniffed. A field of sweet violets.
I’m getting closer! she thought. She was almost there. Just a few more—
Thwap! She flew into a spiderweb.
STICKY THREADS CLUNG to Myka’s body. She was stuck! She couldn’t see where to pull, or even where the spider was!
She twisted and turned. But she only got more tangled.
“Here, let me help.” Bess’s calm voice was close by. Myka felt the web lifting away from her shoulders…her legs…her feet. She was free!
“Bess!” Myka hugged her friend. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to bring you this. For the moss!” Bess held out an acorn basket. “So I followed you.”
“I’m glad you did!” Myka said. Then she added quickly, “But you know, I would have been fine.”
“I know,” said Bess.
“Well, now that you’re here, I guess you can come, too.” Myka paused. “You need to stay out of the cave, though.”
With Bess leading the way, it didn’t take long to find Tammarin Gorge, a deep, narrow valley. Myka heard the roar of Indigo Falls and pictured water flowing over the sheer drop.
Together Myka and Bes
s flew down the cliffside. Myka felt the light grow dimmer. Water thundered. A strong and steady mist filled the air.
The fairies hovered in front of the falls. Bess peered up and down, side to side. “I don’t see any way in,” she said.
Myka fluttered around, one ear cocked. She stopped in front of a long, flat ledge. Water rushed over its side, dividing into two fast-running streams. “I think this is the spot. It’s quieter. There must be a break in the water.”
Bess peered closer. “I see something!” she finally exclaimed.
“All right!” Myka nodded. “I’ll be out as soon as I can.”
“I’m going, too.” Bess sounded as determined as her friend. “I want to see the cave. I want to paint a picture so everyone will know what it’s like.”
“What about the snake? And the bugs?” Myka asked.
Bess laughed. “You don’t believe that nonsense, Myka. You said so! Fairy glows extinguished? Wings magically washed free of dust? Ha! Besides, it might be helpful to have a guide. Not that you need one,” she added quickly.
“Fine,” Myka agreed. “But I go first.”
Holding hands, Myka and Bess slipped through the waterfall curtain. Inside, they landed on dusty ground.
Sssstttttt! Their glows sputtered out. The roar of the waterfall stopped. Silence pressed in on them, as if there were nothing and no one outside the cave. “Uh-oh,” Myka said quietly.
The friends stood in total darkness. If that part of the legend was true, then maybe the other dangers were real, too. Myka flapped her wings. They were too wet to fly.
Myka felt Bess tremble. “I can’t see anything!” Bess whispered.
“I can’t see, either,” Myka told Bess.
But she had other senses. Senses, she realized, that she’d been relying on all along. Hearing. Smell. Touch…and her scouting sense.
“Maybe we should leave,” Bess said.
Leave? When they were so close? Myka couldn’t. What would make Bess as brave as any scout?
Art! Bess just had to think about her painting, and she’d feel strong.
“I’ll use my senses to describe the cave,” Myka told Bess. “So you can still paint it.”
