Pixie-Led
By: Fiona Seckari

	It was dark, very dark, a light sprinkling of snow sat
upon the ground while dull green grass poked through in
splotches. The air carried the cool, crisp taste of winter and
the wind blew up my raggedy skirts. I might as well have
not been wearing any shoes at all, mine were so worn that
they were no protection what so ever against the snow that
was so very cold. 
	But there was no way that I was going back to the
village, not for a while anyway. I pulled my threadbare
cloak tightly around my shoulders as a gold drop of rain
plunked on my forehead. 
	I knew I wasn’t going back to the village, so then
where was I going? I looked around at my surroundings,
trees, trees and more trees. 
	Great, just great, if they wild killer squirrels don’t get
me the woman-eating trees will. 
	For a moment I had a wild fantasy about living the rest
of my life in the forest, I’d make my clothes out of killer
squirrel fur and I’d live in a tree. For breakfast I’d eat
salted snails with maple tree syrup, and for dinner I’d dine
on a fish from a stream. I’d run wild and free, with no one
to answer to and no problems, and no threat of marriage. 
	That was what had driven me out here, the threat of
marriage. Papa said that we could better ourselves if only I
would marry the preacher’s son. Paul was a nice boy, but I
didn’t love him, and it didn’t help matters much that he was
daft. He couldn’t sit straight up, and he drooled whenever
he spoke. His hands constantly twitched, and he made
strange sounds sporadically, sometimes he’d swear for no
reason, or shout a strange word in a language that only he
could understand. One day all he did was bark constantly,
and he was prone to rocking himself back and forth, back
and forth. 
	Papa wanted me to marry him! He said that the
preacher had money and that I would always would have
bread on the table. But Papa didn’t understand, to him
bread on the table meant happiness, but I wanted more.
	I sat on a cold log and squeezed my eyes shut,
remembering the scene that had driven me to the forest. 
	“What do you want Mary-Ann?” Papa’s sharp green
eyes had peered at me through a stern face as the firelight
casted shadows that danced upon his brow. “Mary-Ann, I
asked you a question!” 
	A loud crash resounded as he threw his now empty
bottle of bear against the wall and it shattered into a million
tiny pieces.
	A huddled further into my dark corner, “I want love
Papa.” 
	As soon as the word had escaped from my mouth I
couldn’t believe that I had said it. Love, the word which I
had spent so many hours contemplating so deeply, and yet
had never spoken aloud. I want love, Papa. Had I really
said that?
	Yes, the bruises on my ribs were proof enough, but the
scrapes that covered my hands, my black eye, and bloody
nose all made it more than clear what I had sent. I had
gotten the beating of my life for those three little words. I
want love. Who would have ever guessed that such a
beautiful phrase could be answered with such a hurtful
blows? I had gotten the beating of my life for those three
little words, but I didn’t regret them.
	A single tear rolled down my cheek as I pulled myself
back to the present. 
	Then I heard it, laughter, such pure laughter I had
never heard, such beautiful laughter. But “beauty,” was not
the proper term for it. It was masculine, and yet to gorgeous
to be deemed “handsome.” It seemed not to be coming
from any one direction, but resounding from the very heart
of the forest itself. 
	“Who’s there?” I jumped to my feet. Wasn’t that just
the most stupid question. Did I really expect an answer? I
suppose I did get one, in a way.
	As suddenly as the laughter had come, it stopped.
Then I saw a light in the distance. It wasn’t bright like fire,
but it was not at all dim. I suppose it was a bit like a fire
fly’s light, but more golden. 
	Deep down inside I knew what it was, but I refused to
admit it. It was the light of the Fair Folk, as plain as day. It
bobbed around a bit, as if making sure that it had caught my
attention, and then sat perfectly still on the horizon. It could
have almost been mistaken for an extremely low hanging
star. 
	Without a second thought I gathered my skirts and
headed straight towards the light. There was no way I was
going to allow myself to be pixie-led, I was just going to
walk a little closer to investigate. Or so I thought. 
	One would think that with the ravenous way I devour
books about the fantastical I would have known better,
there is no following a Faerie light just a little way. It holds
a spell on you, and even if you take a single step towards it
there is no turning back. 
	Perhaps I wanted to be pixie-led, or perhaps I was just
made reckless by my new found freedom. Either way, I
followed. I followed all through the forest, across a frozen
stream, through a clearing and up a hill.
	The light may have lead me leagues, but I didn’t
notice. I was filled with a sense of rejuvenation, and found
myself oddly inquisitive. I was no longer just following a
light, I was questing, questing for the source of the
beautiful laughter, and devil take if I couldn’t find it. 
	I paused for a moment and leaned heavily upon an old
oak tree, breathing deeply. A cold haze of rain slowly
began to beat upon my shoulders. The light bobbed about a
bit and then became perfectly still. 
	I stared blankly out into space as a momentary lapse
into sanity fell upon me. Where was I? Where exactly did I
think that I was going? My lapse didn’t last long though,
for not a moment after these thoughts trickled into my head
the light bobbled around even more, faster and more
attention grasping this time. It seemed as if it was a school
teacher, reproaching their way ward pupil for wandering
during their lecture.
	And so ounce again I followed the light. I became
absorbed in it. There were no other beings in the world,
save for me and that light. Ounce I found the source of that
light, I would find the source of the laughter and-
	“AAAHHH!” I screeched. I was falling, suddenly and
sharply. My mind whirled in a frenzy as thoughts flashed
before my eyes. That light! Danm that light, it had lead me
all this way, only to drop me into a ravine. I pressed my
eyes together and opened my mouth for what I thought
would be my final outcry, only to find a firm, strong hand
clasped over my mouth, and yet another grab my hair.
	“Yeow!” this time it was not a scream fear, but of pain
that escaped my lips as the firm, strong hands pulled me to
safety by my thick, dark hair. 
	“Why didn’t you tell me that you were part Banshee?”
I handsome voice asked.
	I lay curled up in a ball near the opening of the ravine.
Ever so slowly I opened my eyes, and looked up into eyes
of the deepest sapphire. 
	They were set in a fair face that carried a slight hint of
brown. Long blonde hair which was so blonde that it was
nearly silver cascaded down shoulder robbed in pure white.
From his back swelled wings that resembled those of an
angel, only more earthly. They had carried a peacock hue
and a sprinkling of what seemed to be golden glitter.
	But the most breath taking of all his features, were his
ears. Long, prominently pointed ears peeped throughout the
cascading blonde of his hair. 
	He arched an eyebrow inquisitively at me. “What?
You act as if you’ve never seen a Fae before.”
	All articulance left me at this point. “I haven’t.”
	Suddenly from his right hand sprouted a light that
illuminated both us and our surroundings, it also drew my
attention to his exquisite hands. It the very light which I had
been following!
	His mouth dropped, “Hey, you’re not a-”
	“You!” 
	“Well, I suppose you could put it that way.” He smiled
slightly, “No, you are not a ‘me’ so to speak.”
	“No, I mean, yes, I mean-” I took a deep breath.
“You’re the one that I’ve been looking for!” Without even
thinking I threw my arms around him, embracing him as
tightly as I could.
	“You’re the laugI sobbed for my alcoholic father, my
deceased mother and my unborn sister. I cried for the threat
of marriage, and weeped for the disappointment that I was
to my father. And it was as if he understood me. It was as if
this creature, no this Fae, could read my unspoken lament.
As if he understood fully hter!” and then I sobbed. I sobbed
for all the world to hear. all that ailed me, and as if he
cared.
	Perhaps it was his scent that caused such a break down
in me. He smelled slightly spicy, a bit like fantasia and
bayberry combined. He also smelled faintly of cleanness,
but not the clean scent that soap would cause, but clean like
a new spring day. The crisp smell of the beginning of
winter had caught in his hair and mingled with his scent.
	I felt his exquisite hands gently caress my back as I
looked up into his eyes. His eyes were now deep emerald
green, changing with his mood, perhaps?
	“It’s okay now.” His voice was nearly a whisper. And
I knew it was, it was more than okay now. It was divine. 
	I stood and unfolded a pair of wings much like his
own from my shoulders, only instead of carrying a peacock
hue they were pure white, like his robe. We were both clad
purely in white now, I in beautiful and yet simple gown and
he is white robe. 
	I looked deeply into his eyes as my three new words
escaped from my lips, “I love you.”
	His eyes spoke more than words could ever say as
together we spread our wings and flew while the first light
of dawn danced upon the snow covered earth.



	It took them but a few days to find her body, perfectly
preserved by the bitter winter cold. Her skin held an
unearthly blue hue, and her dark hair cascaded around her.
She had presumably frozen to death, lying there on the
ground. Likely enough, although temperatures had been
around freezing when she had run away that evening, they
had quickly plummeted as the sun disappeared from the
sky. They knew it would only be a matter of time before
they found the girl.
	The scene wouldn’t have been memorable at all, many
a kindred of the villagers had frozen to death throughout
the many harsh winters they experienced year upon year,
accept this one was strange. Although she had curled into a
small ball, her knees all the way up to her chin as shy lied
on her side, her eyes were wide open and seemingly fixed
on something distant, yet unmistakable beautiful. They
barely even carried the glazed look that death grants them.
Her full lips, a slightly darker shade of blue, were curved
into a slight smile, but strangest of all, her hand was
outstretched, reaching for something, almost grasping it. 
	
	How could they have known she was grasping
something, something wonderful and beautiful and divine?
She was holding the hand of her true love as they flew away
together from the cruelty and pressures of the world, into
the rosy dawn of sweet eternity.