As I lay at the edge of the cliff with my arm draped over the side, I wonder what day it is. Not how many days I’ve been trapped
here – I’ve long lost count of that – but which day exactly? Thursday? Saturday? Is it Tuesday back in the Hollow where Poppy, Tin
and Tracker are enjoying their day off? Maybe they’re down by the river again. Oh, how I miss them. Even Nutty Nutmeg. I’d happily
take a stinger to my bum and be the butt of her jokes now.
I’m not sure when it began, but I’m blacking out a lot now. Sometimes when I come to, I find myself working a different station than I
last remember. Did I wander aimlessly from station to station, or did a night pass and I not even realize it? How can someone lose
that much time without the slightest idea?
When I ask Willow about it, she looks at me like I’m an idiot.
I feel so lost. Maybe even a little broken. There’s this fear eating me up from the inside out that I’ll never leave this place. Maybe that’
s why I’m blacking out. Maybe my mind is trying to protect me from the emotional trauma I’m on the verge of encountering.
Please, Mother Nature. Please. Send someone to save me. Anyone.“What?” I whine, my hand reaching out to stop the foot digging
hard into my side. I’m too weak to actually stop it so I’m grateful the foot’s owner stops on their own.“Would you please stop?”
Willow. Her voice comes off as tired and whiney as mine.
I groan, rolling from my stomach to my left side. “Stop what? You’re the one kicking me!”“You keep singing in your sleep.”
Dumbfounded, my head rocks side to side. “I’m what? What am I singing?”“I don’t know,” she says, moaning the last word for
dramatic effect. “By the sound of it, neither do you.” Her eyes close and her palms go up in the air and bounce with each word,
“Please. Just. Stop.”
I huff. “I’m sorry. I’ll try.”
My right hand goes to my forehead as she makes her way back to her side of the pit. Even if I was singing, I’m surprised she heard
it way over there. I stroke my eyebrows outward in. I release a heavy sigh and my arms fall lifelessly back to the ground.
The sky is really dark so sunrise is still a ways off. As I lay there in the stillness of the night, tears make their way down my cheeks
and splash to the parched earth beneath me. That’s funny; I didn’t even feel my eyes swell or the muscles around my eyes tighten.
Come to think of it, I don’t feel my stomach processing my dinner or my feet aching either. I didn’t even feel the tension in my head,
but I found it necessary to stroke my eyebrows absentmindedly. Am I really that out of it? I hope not. I don’t want to be here, to know
what I know and see what I see, but I don’t want to become one of the lifeless pixies around me even more.
But what if it’s something I can’t stop?
Today was hard on my body. Really hard. My bowl of mash sits beside my sprawled out body, still full because I have no desire to
touch it. There’s been a constant numbness in my forehead all day. Like I’m on the verge of a headache that never comes.
A storm is coming; at least for the opposite side of the canyon. No matter what seems to happen over there, it never ever happens
here. Rain never comes to quench the thirst of the land, wind never brings scents or pollens, animals never travel through, birds
never nest. I can’t remember the scent of rain anymore. As much time as I spent atop the canopy of our Hollow, how can I possibly
forget that? I remember it has earthy smells; I just can’t remember the exact scent or the taste of rain on my tongue.
Gentle hands graze the side of my body.“Don’t give up on me, Rosalie.” It was a slow recognition but my head finally lifts toward
Juniper. “Look deep within yourself. You’ll find the strength to see yourself through this.” I sigh, lift my upper body off the ground and
place my chin atop my knees. She softly massages the back of my head, and although it feels good, my head feels heavier and
groggier than ever. “Don’t allow yourself to fall into despair like the others.”
I lay my head sideways on my arm and glance around at the others. They’re quiet, dazed. They almost seem numb. “Why not? Why
can’t I just zone out and forget too?”“Because you’re stronger than that.”“I’m not that strong,” I mutter. “Definitely not compared to
most of the pixies back home.”
Juniper pulls her hand away – strange that I immediately feel a sense of loss – and sits down beside me. Her joints are stiff and her
movement shaky, so she uses my shoulder to support herself to the ground. “I meant you’re strong of mind, strong-willed. I knew it
the moment I learned you survived the additional day in the hole. You’re a fighter, Rosalie. A survivor. And I need you to stay that
way. To step up and lead these pixies once I’m gone.”
My neck snaps so fast I’m lucky it didn’t break. “What?” I ask a little too harshly.
Juniper peers over the cliff and scans the world of life beneath us. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I almost forget at times that beauty still
exists. Flowers still bloom, animals still play, trees still dance in the wind.” I look to the few straggly trees outlining our prison. Nothing
moves here. It’s like we don’t exist so the wind doesn’t bother to come. Juniper sighs and spreads her lips outward. “Nature is a
beautiful thing.”
A wave of guilt overwhelms me. Here I am drowning in my own self-pity because my life has been stolen and turned upside down for
a few weeks, when poor Juniper has been suffering here for more than a decade. I’m such a selfish brat.“How are you doing these
days, Juniper?”
Her mouth twitches and her eyes dart frequently at the distant landscape, not focusing on anything for more than a second. “I’m not a
young pixie anymore. My body fades a little more each day.” She turns and her glistening eyes meet mine. At least something still
sparkles naturally. “This is why I need you to be strong. You’ve seen these pixies. They need someone to lead and take care of
them. Together I think you and Willow can do that.”“Willow!” I burst. I sense a few pixies hear and turn our way, but since Willow
sleeps on the other side of the pit, I’m hopeful she’s deep enough in sleep to not hear. “She’s not going to work with me. She hates
me.”“Willow’s hatred lies solely on the faeries and spriggans that keep us here. Try not to judge her too harshly. Her anger is how
she deals with our situation. It’s what keeps her strong and moving forward. I’ll take that over defeat and submission any day.”
Those last few words make me feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach. I don’t mean to be submissive, it just creeps up on you.
“Juniper, what was it like back home for you?”
A weak smile curves her lips. “You know, no one’s asked me that in a long time.” She stares off across the canyon, and her lips
twitch, as if she sees something that reminds her of home. “I came from Birch Hollow. They’re skinny little trees so we didn’t live
within them like most Hollows. Instead we’d find a clump of several together and build a home between them using the trees for
outer support. I imagine it wasn’t too unlike your tree house, Rosalie.”“I wouldn’t mind one of those right now.”“Me too,” she says,
sighing. She grabs my bowl and holds it in the air before me. Reluctantly I take it, but I manage to slowly get it down while she talks. “
My best friend was Mimosa. Mother Nature we were a handful growing up. Our families lived side by side and we did everything
under the sun together. We ate together, pranked together, explored the forest and worked the same jobs together. We even pined
over the same teenage pixies when we were older.”
Juniper pauses and I turn to see her golden eyes begin to glisten. “But then…Mimosa fell ill when we were eighteen. The elders said
it was a type of rare disease pixies sometimes got from an unknown source in the forest. A pollen maybe, or a fungus that grew on
our food that wasn’t completely washed away. They really didn’t know. A few pixies overcame the disease, but Mimosa wasn’t one
of them.” I feel pressure behind my eyes as tears began to fall from hers. “I was so distraught. There was this hole inside me that I
was never able to fill again. My family was upset because they didn’t know what they could do for me. I moved out on my own,
choosing not to take a mate. I just wanted to be left alone. I felt guilty about taking Mimosa throughout the forest exploring new
things, because maybe that’s where she caught it. And I felt guilty for not getting sick too, and surviving in this world without her.”
I look to her solemnly, trying to decipher the meaning behind her words. “You think you deserve to be here, don’t you?” When she
doesn’t answer, I know I’ve hit it on the mark. “Juniper, what happened to your friend wasn’t your fault. Pixies get sick. None of us
deserve to be here. Being captured and thrown into this pit isn’t your punishment for not getting sick. Mimosa wouldn’t want this for
you. You have to know that.”
The old pixie just shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll be seeing her again soon enough.”
It disturbs me the way she says that, and the way a smile creeps across her cheeks.“Don’t say that. You’re the strongest pixie I
know. And these pixies need you. I need you.”“They only need comfort and guidance, Rosalie. You have a generous heart, and I
hope you’ll be able to provide that for them when the time comes.”
She rises, pushing down on my shoulder for support, then hobbles away. The night is beginning to really darken, but flashes of light
over the horizon light up the pixies sleeping in the pit. They’re all such pitiful creatures these days, but I know their beauty still resides
beneath their weather-worn, damaged skin. There has to be a way to get them out of here and back to the life they deserve.
A collective gasp comes from two tables up. My brows furrow as I lean into the walkway, expecting to see a spriggan coming down
the line before scheduled. But what I see is the frail form of a pixie crumpled up on the floor. I gasp and rush towards her, just as the
pixies surrounding her fall back into work mode. Their lack of action still surprises me, even though I know most lack the emotion to
respond appropriately. But still. How could they be so flippin’ heartless? One pixie continues to look on, her face filled with longing,
as if she envies the pixie on the floor.
I gasp again, this time with a force so strong my lungs feel the urge to burst. Oh no-no-no-no-no!
Even in darkness, the flickering flames on the tables light up something very familiar: dark hair wrapped in a tight bun at the crown of
her head, silvery streaks trying to gleam. The weight of my body crashes on my knees and the burn tells me I’ve scuffed some of the
skin off. I feel the heat radiating off her skin as I pull to cradle Juniper in my arms. But as hot as the cave is, the heat feels worse than
it should be. It seeps into my skin, almost burning me.“Water!” I yell. “Someone get the bucket!” No one directly around me moves
but I pray to Mother Nature that one of the lucid pixies in this cave obliges.
The heat steams the lining of my throat with each breath. I know Juniper feels it too as her breaths become deep and almost painful,
her body collapsing in my arms with each exhalation. She looks up to me in a daze, her eyes glazed over. I wonder if she even
knows it’s me holding her. Or if she can hear me.“It’ll be okay, Juniper,” I say, rocking her gently back and forth. “It’ll be okay.”
A bucket scrapes the ground beside me. I catch a blur of violet with the next passing flicker of light. Light blue hands immediately
wash the sweat that swims down Juniper’s face and neck. Sudden coughing makes us both freeze and look to the entrance. A
spriggan makes his way towards us, long before scheduled, and I realize what an idiot I was to call out for help. Willow would have
helped me regardless.“Drop her,” Willow insists as she pulls out of sight.
Flabbergasted, I snap, “What?” She’s got to be kidding!“Drop her!” she hisses. She pulls on my shoulders. My body leans back but I
refuse to budge my grip on Juniper.
I’m engulfed by light as the spriggan nears me. Willow no longer urges me to abandon her and backs away. The noise of hands
thumping on tables increases as the pixies around me fearfully work harder. My heart speeds tenfold, now realizing the situation I’ve
put myself in. This spriggan seems lumpier than the others, with really extensive brow bones that shadow his eye cavities and make
him seem even more menacing than normal. He leans the lantern in for a closer look and cocks his head. His pause is frightening,
and I feel the tremble as it spreads through my limbs.
I take a quick breath, trying to find the courage to smooth the fear from my voice. “Please,” I plea, my voice cracking. “She just
needs food and some salve for the fever and she’ll be well again.”
He watches me intently for a moment, debating what to do. The lantern is set on the floor and he leans toward her face until he’s
close enough...to sniff her? What the heck? Dumbfounded, my jaw slackens and I’m left speechless over how to respond. He swirls
his head around and inhales a long, deep breath through his nose. He follows it up with three more sniffs in short bursts. He
suddenly winces, as if he inhales something foul. In one quick movement, one hand pushes me back by the shoulder as the other
rips Juniper from my grasp. The jolt is enough to throw me off my balance and roll me backwards until I’m on my bum on the floor.
The spriggan snags his lantern and holds Juniper awkwardly in his arm as he turns away.“No! Wait!” I yell. “Please!” I struggle
against the weight of someone grasping my arms behind me, holding me down on the floor. The spriggan ignores me and continues
on his way, bouncing Juniper so roughly I hope she’s unconscious. “Stop!” I plea one last time.
Once they’re gone from sight, my arms are released. Anger boils within me. Jumping to my feet, I abruptly turn and shove Willow
back, releasing my fury with each question I scream at her. “Where’d they take her? What the heck is wrong with you! Why didn’t you
help me?” The questions fly off me in one breath. “I can’t believe you would just let them take her! She’s like a mother to me! What
are they going to do to her? Answer me!”“I would if you’d shut it already!” She slaps my arms down as they thrust forward to shove
her again. “You can’t help her right now! And Juniper wouldn’t want you to get thrown back in the hole for her. Not when she’s…”“Not
when she’s what?” I holler, a little tiffed that she stops mid-sentence and leaves me hanging. The anger twitching in her muscles
softens. She doesn’t answer me verbally, but her eyes fill with grief and she looks at me solemnly. “What?” I ask quietly, meekly,
fearing the answer I know is coming my way.“Come on, Rosalie,” Willow says softly. “You know she’s fading. Fast. It’s why she’s
been pushing you to step up and be a leader. She needs a replacement.”
I think I knew this. No, I definitely knew this. Pictures reel through my mind: Juniper shuffling along slowly around the pit, her
emaciated body shrinking daily, her overall demeanor growing weaker. I just didn’t want to see it. Really see it. I mean, she has to
still be in her thirties. Back home in the Hollow pixies live well into their sixties. As exhausted as Juniper is, I always figured she’d
get through this. Because she was – I mean, is – young. She can’t be dying.
Not yet. Not when for the first time in my life I feel like I have someone that really cares about me. Someone that’s been like a mother
to me...or I guess what I assume a mother would be. Because I never really had that. No pixie ever gave me this kind of personal
attention. And I like that. I savor it. Crave it.
She can’t leave me now.
Willow turns and walks back to our station. She seems as dispirited as I feel, which is a far cry from the emotions the majority of the
other pixies are exuding right now, which is practically nothing. How can they be so far gone that none of them pay any attention to a
fallen pixie? I’m left to ponder their lack of sensation for the rest of my shift. I’m not sure if I actually do anything or not, but my body
stays hunched over the table. I certainly don’t remember doing anything. I’m nothing but a mindless blur.
As we trek back to the pit, I wonder what they did with Juniper. Is she back at the pit? Did they help her any? I gulp – was she thrown
in the hole to die alone? My answer comes as I break the glamour’s barrier and see her lying helplessly on the pit floor. Several
pixies were deposited before me but none have gone to aid her. Flippin’ lifeless pixies.
I rush to her side and gently roll her sideways. Her dark red skin is inflamed, flushed with heat and burned from the first real sun
exposure she’s seen in more than a decade. Her eyes are closed but her chest rises and falls steadily. “Juniper?” I ask softly.
Nothing.
I hear thumping reverberating in the ground near me. Willow is suddenly beside me, caressing Juniper’s face in a way that’s almost
an examination.“Juniper!” She shakes her gently at first, then more forcefully. “Juniper! Can you hear me? Wake up!”
Still nothing. Willow sighs and lays her back on the ground. She turns to gaze at the meandering pixies and shakes her head. “It’s a
wonder they can even remember to shower every night.”
It’s their routine. Get up, eat, work, eat, shower, go to bed. Over and over and over again. Back home, on mornings when I was really
sleepy, I found myself traveling from my tree house to the Hollow’s center without even realizing. One minute I was in the tree house,
the next I was in the village. Sort of like auto-flight. My mind knew what to do and how to get me there, but for the life of me I couldn’t
remember any part of it. I know it’s what these pixies do every day because I’ve done it a few days myself. Their minds are
protecting them from the horrors around us because they don’t know how to deal with it.
Willow rises slowly, releasing a sigh along the way. “Watch over her. I’m going to make sure the rest of them get some food and
water in them.” I nod my head silently and my eyes follow her over to Holly, who’s already working on tonight’s dinner.
Gee. Maybe we’ll have some fruit and seeds tonight. I almost gag at the thought. Once upon a time I liked them, but that’s when I
was free to collect what I wanted, when I wanted. I wonder if the lack of variety in our food is done on purpose. One more simple joy
they can take away from us. Flippin’ faeries.
I want to feed Juniper her mash and get some type of nourishment in her, but she just won’t wake. All I can do is keep cool, wet
scraps of clothing atop her skin in hopes it’ll cool her down a bit. It scares me how much heat is radiating off her body, even after the
sun goes down. I pull her against me in a futile attempt to transfer some of her heat to me.
It’s not easy to fall asleep. My emotions rip me in multiple directions. Anxiety eats at the lining in my stomach, making me feel really
queasy, and makes it impossible for my right foot to stop bouncing. Fear is the worst. Hearing the rasp in Juniper’s chest tells me
she’s having difficulty breathing. I’m deathly afraid she’ll never wake again. I lay on my side with Juniper in my arms, letting the
dancing stars distract me until I drift off into unconsciousness.
I awake in the middle of the night, startled. Something doesn’t feel right. Juniper’s body is still pressing into mine, her head resting
upon my chest. I feel her forehead – still warm to the touch. I gasp and hold my breath the moment I suspect, my heart speeding
along as if I just flew ten miles in fear.
Juniper’s body no longer rises with each breath. Her neck no longer pulsates. A strange noise escapes my throat: a mixture of
moaning, crying and screeching. In what feels like the longest gasp in my life, my lungs forget how to exhale. Fluid builds behind my
eyes and stings as it tries to seep through.
I scream. Really scream. But it comes out raspy and rough, and in bursts since my chest is spasming at the same time. I don’t care
who hears me, or if the spriggans come for me. I just don’t care. She was such a sweetheart. She loved and cared for me when no
one else did. She genuinely worried for my safety. And she had this way of simply touching my arm or rubbing my head and making
me feel like everything was going to be okay. She had the power to make me believe I could get through this. That I was strong.
That I was loved.
And now she’s gone. The one good thing in my life right now is gone.
I don’t know when Willow appeared beside me, but now she sits beside us on her knees, her body convulsing as much as mine. I
roll Juniper’s body softly to the ground and join her hands across her stomach. We each take up a respective side to mourn, lying
our heads on her shoulders. I gently caress Juniper’s hand and Willow surprises me by joining hers with mine. They’re cool and
shaky, her skin rough and scratchy like mine. I guess I never realized how close Willow was to Juniper as well. I knew they
conversed and that Willow was expected to take over, but I guess I never really thought their relationship went beyond that. Maybe
Willow saw Juniper as a motherly presence too.
We huddle together until the tears run dry and our bodies calm.
Finally Willow rises. It kills her to say what we both know must be done. “Help me move her to the edge?”
I nod and slowly rise to my feet. I feel utterly exhausted, both physically and emotionally, but I find the strength to lift Juniper and carry
her to the edge of the pit. To the spot I’ve slept in every night but this one. To the spot where I watched in horror as a pixie took her
own life. Now to be the spot where I say goodbye to a pixie that I barely knew but loved with all my heart nonetheless.
We lay her gently before the edge and kneel down to say our private goodbyes. Somehow my body produces more tears and they
begin pouring again. I wipe my nose and sweep the tears off my cheeks and eyes so I can see Juniper clearly. I ask Willow to lift her
shoulders off the ground and she does so without contesting or questioning. I unwrap her bun and let her long brown hair with silvery
streaks flow free over her shoulders. Free like Juniper’s soul now. Free to fly. Free to be. Free to play with Mimosa again. For the
first time ever her stress lines have softened, her skin no longer taut with frustration and worry. I’m finally beginning to believe this
was the face of a pixie in her thirties, and not the decrepit, malnourished version I saw wasting away these past many weeks.
“Normally we would take the clothing off the pixie at this point. Add it to the scrap pile.” Willow looks to her mangled two-piece, then
to Juniper’s one-piece made of multiple scraps of decent material. We still have some scraps that can be used for whoever needs
them. I just used some during the night to cool Juniper’s skin with. Lot of good that did. And most of these pixies are so out of it they
wouldn’t realize they were indecent at all if we didn’t keep an eye on their clothing for them. I can tell Willow’s having a hard time
debating what to do about Juniper’s scraps.“I know we need the material and I know Juniper would want us to do what’s best for
those still alive, but I’d rather walk naked than strip her of what dignity she has left,” she says.
I look to my own two-piece. Upon seeing the so-called clothing around my fellow prisoners, I’d been very careful not to snag the
material wrapped around me. But try as I have, the material is still thinning. Soon I’ll need to dip into the scraps myself, so I
understand the urge she feels to collect Juniper’s clothing. It’s no longer of use to her and makes a world of difference to us. But still,
she was our mother and I feel it disrespectful as well.“Why don’t we just take from the middle then? Turn her one-piece into a two-
piece. We’ll get a few pieces and keep her clothed at the same time.”
Willow’s eyes light up and for the first time ever, looks to me with a smile on her face. You know, she’s actually very pretty when she
smiles. “I like that idea. She was right to choose you as a leader.”
I return the smile and try not to cry over her kind words. It’s something Juniper would have said to me. And it makes me realize for
the first time that Willow was fit to be both controlling and caring.
We quickly untie the knots around Juniper’s midsection. Luckily the one piece is skin-tight so its integrity doesn’t weaken when we
remove the middle section. When we’re done we have enough material to settle our nerves.“Are you ready?” she asks wearily,
unable to stop looking at the frail body before us. “We should do it before anyone else sees. They’ll realize she’s gone, but
something about seeing the body being dropped off the cliff makes their condition worse. Traumatizes them even more.”
I nod in agreement. Watching that pixie commit suicide certainly damaged me a little. That vision still haunts me when I close my
eyes.
We stand and gently lift Juniper into a sitting position and carefully nudge her legs over the edge. Below us is the river. I know she’ll
fall directly into it. Just like that other pixie. I wonder where they go? Do they float wherever the current takes them? Or do they sink
and the river keeps them right where they land? I shudder to think the latter and pray for the former. Juniper’s finally free again. I
know her soul has left this place, but I want her body to do so too.“Goodbye, Juniper,” Willow whispers.“May Mother Nature take
care of you as well as you took care of us,” I add.
Without another word or a glance in either direction, we lift Juniper’s body over the edge. She slips easily in my hands. As much as I
’ll miss her, I’m happy to know she’s out of here for good. No more hunger. No more heat exhaustion. No more slavery.
Just a soul free to dance playfully in the wind with her best friend again.
We watch as Juniper hits the water below us. Watching is all we can do; we’re too high to hear the splash. Please float away.
Please. But I’ll never know if she did. Try as we do, we’re not close enough to see if something as small as a pixie bobs in the water.
We can only hope.
Needless to say, I couldn’t sleep after Juniper’s funeral. I kept worrying about my own mortality. I know I’ve only been here a little
more than a month, but I’ve seen what this place can do to you. It wears on you physically and emotionally. Those that don’t learn to
deal end up locked within their mind, completely numb and void of life. None of them deserve this life. To feel like the world has
abandoned them.
Why can’t our existence be like the stars? Happily twinkling and dancing in the night sky, bringing light and entertainment to all who
see? The stars make everyone ponder unanswered questions, makes everyone smile. And no matter who you are, where you are
or what you’ve done, they’re always there for you. No matter what.
I envy those stars, and I watch them until the night fades, then replaced first by morning twilight, and finally, dawn. The indigo sky
lightens and a few wispy cirrus clouds high in the sky begin to turn a pinkish orange.
It’s when I’m studying the sky that I notice it. A ripple in the glamour. I’ve always known it was there; I feel it each time I pass through
the magical layer. But something never occurred to me before. I jump to my feet and peek over the edge of the pit. A sense of
revelation pulses through my body and my heart quickens at the thought. I extend my arm as far down the cliff as I can and feel the
magical ripple against my fingertips, tingling my skin like when I pass through the illusion covering our pit.
What if?