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The Fae Child- Curious Creatures The next day, Chase went with his kirin friend to check the traps. He found two rabbits in human snares. The first one, a young hare, was still alive. He calmed it down as he cut it free with a knife the blue Fae had traded from the dwarves. The second rabbit was already dead. He brought it back to the Fae, along with three hares from Fae traps. The Fae used traps that only sprang if the rabbits were large enough to eat. He hated when he found small animals dead in human traps. Why kill something they couldn't eat? It was just horrible.
As he was gathering berries in the forest, a Will-O-Wisp appeared and called to him. He looked up and asked, What is it?
The Will-O-Wisp bobbed away. He got to his feet and followed it, the kirin close behind.
Before he ever saw the source, Chase began to hear a strange noise. It reminded him of once when he'd gotten something the Fae called 'hiccups'- only this sound was somehow... sadder. He brok
The Fae Child- Time passes In the Fae wood there is no way to count the days or years, and so the child grew in ignorance of his true age.
Outside, however, time passed much more quickly than it did in the Fae wood. A hundred years went by in the time the child learned to speak the Fae language. Another hundred passed as he learned to hunt from the backs of kirin- the deer with one antler each and scales like dragons'- and to make trousers and boots from animal skins. In total, three hundred years had passed before a human village sprang up on the edge of the Fae wood. He knew nothing of the time which passed outside the wood.
The Fae were troubled. Would the humans come into our forest? Would they crash around as they did so long ago?
The blue Fae turned to look at Chase. The boy sat near the bonfire, helping the purple and green Fae gut fish. Sensing the blue Fae's gaze, he looked up and asked, What is wrong?
There are humans near the wood, t
The Fae Child- Decisions How surprised were the Fae Folk when the human was still there in the morning! They inspected this queer child with some hints of curiosity.
When he woke, he found three faces hovering over him. There was a green one, and a blue one, and a white one. All of them blinked.
The boy let out a yelp and scrambled to his feet. The Fae stepped back to allow him room to stand. He stared around him in awe.
The invisible people from last night were solid and very real come daybreak. They had not payed him any attention earlier; humans didn't remain in the woods for long, one way or the other. But to find him still in the same spot in the morning... this was unknown even to them.
Finally the child composed himself enough to ask the blue one, "Who are you?"
The blue one said something in a strange, flowing language.
"I can't understand you," the boy said.
The Fae looked trou
The Fae Child- Fae Fire The birds were singing, and the sunlight shone through the leafy branches. That was all Chase could remember of his time in the Fae woods alone.
Of course he could remember the Will-O'-Wisps, the whispering blue lights that led him across the wood to the Fae. But by the time he saw them, he was no longer alone. He was being watched- regarded and considered by the people whose woods he was intruding into. They were trying to decide what to do about this human trespasser.
Drive it out, one suggested.
Let the beasts take it, proposed another.
Turn it mad, advised yet another.
No, decided a fourth. It comes alone, you see? It carries no weapons. It must not mean us any harm. Let it stay.
Why? The rest wanted to know.
The Fae did not reply, for it was not sure. Chase didn't learn of this until much later.
At that time, for a lonely child wandering the woods by himsel
The Fae Child- Tale Retold Legends tell of an enchanted wood in the far northern mountains. It is a place of sorcery and magical beasts, dwarven mines and scaled deer, fae folk dancing around a bonfire under the stars.
Humans were never meant to enter this realm of the unnatural and unknown. Any who do will not return unscathed. Men driven raving mad, women turned to evil witches. And those were the ones who even returned at all.
But there is one legend, a tale passed down in secret, of an orphan who came somehow to live among the Fae. A human boy, abandoned in the mountains of the Fae Wood. His true name has been long lost as the story was told and retold, passed from parent to child to grandchild. Though his name is a mystery, his title remains the same.
He is called the Fae Child.
That One Class (Chapter 3- Manny) I noticed later that day that Manny seemed to sleep through absolutely everything. Besides lunch. It seemed like she woke up for long enough to inhale all of her lunch, as well as what she could get from the people around her, and then put her head right back down and went to sleep.
“How does she do that?” I asked Shelli.
Shelli shrugged. “She was in band last year. Apparently when you're in band, you learn to sleep anywhere, anytime. And I have seen the band students practicing all the time- it's a miracle they get any of their homework done and still have time to sleep. I guess they just sleep when they can. Don't think Manny's ever going to stop, though.”
I looked back at her. She turned her head and I saw her eyes were still open. She blinked at me for a second, squinting. Her glasses were on her desk. Instead of putting them on, she just shrugged and closed her eyes again.
The blond girl
A Turning Point in the Clockwork WarA war of attrition
depends on supply and drawdown,
how much you have and how much you use up.
With personnel, the balance concerns
the influx of recruitment versus
the outflow of casualties, deserters, invalids.
There is only so much loss
that a fighting force can sustain
and still fight.
Pilot Claude Archer was the first
to challenge his invalid discharge.
"I don't need legs to fly," he said,
patting the healed stumps of his thighs.
"My Osprey runs on elbow grease."
The members of the discharge board
paused and looked at each other.
What he said was true.
The Osprey-class fighter jets
relied on hand controls,
and a sharp eye and iron nerve.
Fingers flicked through the stack
of discharge papers -- so many, many pages.
So many soldiers lost, never to fight again.
They could not afford to let slip even one
who might be retained, somehow,
to face the front line once more.
Far less could the war effort spare
one of its best pilots.
So they put Pilot Archer back on the roster,
may as well buy another packcollapse, and breathe into the carpet:
sunday mornings are not
for falling apart, but damn
the amphorics, this
is not an atmosphere.
you fell in love like you always
wish you didn't, made all their
smiles replaceable, interchangeable,
fell asleep with shadows and kept
drinking, just letting yourself sleep
with blue pills
and tried not to scream.
(keep this image in your head:
fire and nectarines, a sudden jerk
of realization, inspiration
breaking your neck and leaving you forever
breaking bones is not so different
from breaking hearts - it's all about
the leverage, the angle, the mode
(and at least it wasn't personal;
it can color in your own guilt
for starting lines and never ending
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