by Kiki Thorpe
Without a word, Tink set down the bucket and flew away.
“THERE YOU ARE, Lily. Good as new,” Tink said a few days later. “Well, almost, anyway.”
Tink handed the repaired rake to her friend. She had straightened every one of the tines and fixed the broken piece. But she hadn’t polished the handle. She guessed Lily might prefer it the way it was.
“It’s perfect!” Lily gushed. “Oh, I’m so glad to have it back.” She combed it across the grass a few times, just to try it out. “Thank you, Tink. I’d like to do something nice for you, too. Can you stay for tea?”
Tink shook her head. “Another time. I have something important to finish right now.”
As Tink flew back to her workshop, she spotted Rolo in front of the Home Tree. He was whispering something in a fairy’s ear.
Tink smiled to herself. The day before, Rolo had brought the Secret Keeper into her workshop, and together they’d broken the lock. Tink had promised to fix it. But she had a feeling that it was one repair she’d never get around to making. Rolo didn’t seem to miss it.
And there, passing through the courtyard, was Trindle. Tink waved to her, and Trindle waved back. She was dressed in a full-length orange tiger lily dress, with green spider-silk stockings and a red mushroom cap. The Decider was still in Tink’s workshop, too, waiting for her to add pink.
“I’ll get around to fixing that Decider one of these days,” Tink called out to Trindle.
“Take your time!” Trindle called back.
Tink grinned. She’d known Trindle wouldn’t need the Decider anytime soon. Rosetta had praised Trindle’s wild outfits so much that Tink had a feeling Trindle would never go back to wearing just one color.
As for Rosetta, Tink hadn’t seen her in days. She was too busy practicing with her two dancing partners—Blaze and Herk.
Tink arrived at her workshop. She went inside and sat down at the table. But she’d only just begun tap-tapping with her tinker’s hammer when the bell over the door jingled. Dooley came in.
“Fly with you,” Tink said to him. “What’s new today?”
“Nothing good,” Dooley replied with a woeful sigh. “My ear itches, and I’ve got a hole in my sock. I took a wrong turn getting here. And this morning at breakfast my tea was cold. Ah, me. It’s a sad, sad life for poor old Dooley.”
Tink shook her head. “I wish I could help you,” she told him. “But I don’t fix fairies.”
“Oh, that’s not why I’m here, Tink. I came about my wheel.” Dooley set a rusted old wagon wheel on the table. “The wheel’s got a wobble, you see. Not that anything can be done about it,” he added glumly.
But Tink brightened. “A wobbly wheel? Why didn’t you say so! I’ll have it fixed in no time. Just put it on the workbench there.”
Dooley did as she said, then turned to leave. But something on Tink’s worktable caught his eye. “Say, that’s nice! What is it?”
Tink held up the necklace she was making. It had a silver pendant shaped like a flower with three curling petals. “It’s an iris for Iris,” she explained. “I thought I ought to do something nice for her. She put up with a lot from me.”
Dooley took the necklace and turned it over in his hands. “It’s awful pretty. But there’s a flaw here.” He pointed to a rough spot on the edge of the iris.
“I know,” said Tink. “I put it there.”
“What for?” asked Dooley.
“It makes it more interesting,” said Tink. “It’s a bit like fairies themselves. After all, who doesn’t have a flaw?”
Dooley raised his eyebrows thoughtfully. “I’d say you’re right about that, Tink. Anyway, I’ll bet Iris will like the necklace.” He handed it back.
Dooley bid Tink good-bye. Then he left the workshop, singing to himself.
“I’ve got a hole in my sock
And a cold cup of tea.
There’s an itch in my ear—
Ah, woe is me….”
Tink smiled and shook her head. “Funny old Dooley,” she said.
Then, with a happy sigh, she got back to work.
Queen Clarion’s Secret
Just as Prilla was about to land, a shadow crossed the ground in front of her. She looked up and her eyes widened. A huge bird was soaring across the sky. It was unlike any bird Prilla had ever seen. The bird was as colorful as a parrot, but it was much longer. Its wingspan was as wide as an eagle’s.
The bird traveled so fast that it left a multi-colored streak in the sky behind it. Prilla felt a shiver of fear. A bird so big and fast could be dangerous to fairies. She would have to warn the queen.
But when she looked back, Queen Clarion was gone.
Myka Finds Her Way
Myka had to get closer. She had to see what was happening. She flew toward the noise and lights. The rumblings turned to roars. The flashes grew brighter.
Everything looked strange in the on-again, off-again flare of light. Boom!
She saw a gnarled tree bent over, its bare branches sweeping the ground. Boom! She spotted a towering beehive. It swayed from the thick trunk of a maple tree.
She swerved around it and kept flying. Boom! The spooky light cast long shadows from trees…plants…rocks. Everything seemed different. But she was a scout. She had to keep going.
Vidia Meets Her Match
Wisp’s whole face lit up. “Race? With you? I’d love to!” she cried. “I hear you’re the fastest fairy in Pixie Hollow.”
“Mmm. Well, we’ll see, won’t we?” said Vidia.
Wisp’s wings were already humming. “Where should we race?” she asked.
Vidia looked around. “From here to that tree,” she decided. She pointed to a peach tree at the edge of the orchard. “To finish, touch the peach hanging from that low branch. Ready?”
Wisp nodded. The two got on their marks.
“Set…,” said Vidia.
They spread their wings.
“Go!”
Silvermist and the Ladybug Curse
By now, other fairies had gathered around Silvermist. The ladybug sat perfectly still atop the water-talent fairy’s head.
“You know,” a garden-talent fairy named Rosetta mused, “there’s an old superstition about white ladybugs. They’re supposed to bring—”
“Bad luck!” Iris said, screeching to a stop in front of Silvermist.
A few fairies chuckled uncertainly. No one took Iris very seriously. But fairies were superstitious creatures. They believed in wishes, charms, and luck—both good and bad.
“The white ladybug!” Iris’s voice rose higher and higher. “It’s cursed!”
Prilla and the Butterfly Lie
An uncomfortable silence filled the tearoom. Some fairies studied their forks. Others examined their dinner plates very closely. No one would look up.
“No volunteers,” said the queen. “This is indeed a problem. What are we to do?”
“I know!” said a voice. “There is a fairy who would be happy to help out. She loves butterflies.”
The room began to buzz once more. Everyone wondered who the butterfly-loving fairy could be.
Prilla sank into her chair until her head was barely level with the table. She had completely forgotten about her butterfly lie.
Tink, North of Never Land
She’d been flying for a quarter of an hour when she looked down. Her heart sank. She was just crossing Havendish Stream.
At this rate, it will take me weeks to reach the Northern Shore! she thought.
But as luck would have it, the wind suddenly shifted in Tink’s direction. She felt the carrier bumping against her heels.
Tink climbed into the basket. She let the wind speed her along. In no time, she had reached the edge of Pixie Hollow. Never Land’s forest spread out below her like a great dark sea.
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