“Oh, for Puck’s sake, Avy!” Zeb buried his hammer into the ground between his twin sister’s feet, “How many do we have left?”
Without flinching, Avy picked up the hammer and flung it back at her brother, “I would be the last female of our clan now, no thanks to Ramiah’s carelessness.”
“And how long has it been since we’ve seen another Quickling?” Zeb caught the hammer with lightning reflexes just before it could crack his skull.
“Not since we recruited her and her brother Ramah.”
He pulled a small nail from his mouth and hammered it into the bed frame he was working on with impetuous speed.
“Are you capable of finishing your sister’s work by yourself, Ramah?” Zeb pointed to a crude, half-finished, feather bed across the room.
“Uh, yes, Master Zeb,” Ramah stepped over to the pile of silk and feathers, “But now that my sister is dead, you have no bride to sleep upon the bed with.”
“I will have my bride!” Zeb bellowed, causing dust and debris to fall from the walls and ceiling of their makeshift nest of a room. Ramah was suddenly pinned to the wall with Zeb glaring at him face-to-face, “You and the rest of the men will search Harkin Mountain in its entirety. If you find no more Quickling women, then you will bring me another Fae woman of reasonable size to be my bride.” He flung Ramah at the three remaining males, knocking them all down, “Avy, you will finish the mattress.”
“What if no one wishes to be your bride, master?” Shage, the youngest, stumbled back to his feet.
“Then just kidnap the most beautiful Fae woman you can find and bring her to me,” Zeb explained after a rather heavy slam of his hammer on the wooden frame.

Osho sat up against his basket of nuts and berries to snack on a strawberry before returning to camp. He bit into it and closed his eyes, savoring the sweet fruit that he would normally have to give to his master. He had found more strawberries than normal, so no one would notice if he ate just one. When he opened his eyes again, he saw that four Quicklings, all with their daggers drawn, surrounded him.
“We are of the Blue Meanie Clan,” announced Quade, the tallest of the four, as Osho choked and spat out his mouthful, “Tell us where we might find more of our kind, or we will take the information from you.”
“We don’t interact with other Fae,” Osho stood and eyed Quade defiantly, “And it was to my understanding that your kind is the same way. Why do you assault me?” Quade bared his teeth and jabbed forward with his dagger.
Yaron, who appeared to be the eldest of the four, snatched Quade’s arm just before his blade met Osho’s throat, “I apologize for my brother’s hostility, cousin Buckawn. We do not wish to interact with your clan. We have been on a quest to locate others of our race and have been unsuccessful thus far.” Yaron pushed Quade’s arm down and put a hand on Osho’s shoulder, “I’m afraid we must resort to asking the local Fae if they have seen any around, so we might have a more specific location to search within.” His other hand now free, Yaron reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a plump, ripe Faeberry, “Oh, and providing us with such information will be duly rewarded.” Osho licked his lips as he eyes widened to the size of the lush berry that was held before him.
“Quicklings, yes. There was a band of about ten some 5 years ago,” he reached for the fruit, but Yaron held it up out of his reach, “The Silvermein Clan, I believe. They made awful enemies of those Pixies that live in Star Caverns. Um, the Twilight Clan, I think. Yeah. One day, they were just gone, the Quicklings, and no one ever heard of them again. Some say that the Pixies summoned Oberon himself to deal with them, and that he turned them into the poppies that bloom on the mountainside in the spring.”
“He’s right,” Shage shook his head and sighed, “My parents were from the Silvermein Clan. My sister and I left them because I knew those Pixies were up to something.”
Yaron dropped the Faeberry into Osho’s anxious hands, “Then it is the Twilight Clan that shall pay for the destruction of our brothers and sisters.” When Osho looked up to thank the Quickling, they were all gone.

Elana and Daren flew giggling amongst the moonlit underbrush away from the road.
“Did you see the look on that kid’s face?” Elana chuckled as she did a gentle belly flop on a soft patch of moss, “He actually thought you were Hades!”
Daren lay down beside her, “That’s just because you mimic voices so well.” “I couldn’t just let you rescue me all by yourself,” she rolled to her side and looked at him, her bright eyes shining in the moonlight, “And I doubt that boy will even think about trapping a Pixie again.”
“I don’t mean to hog all the credit, but I doubt the boy thinks you had anything to do with that illusion,” he looked over at her, blushed, then looked up to the moon.
“And just what were you doing following me around anyway, Daren Sunset?” she put a hand on her hip and smirked playfully.
“I wasn’t following you, Elana Luna” he mocked, then blushed even more and looked back down to the ground, “I wanted to talk to you, but you just move faster than me.”
“Uh-huh,” her grin widened as she began to blush, as well, “So, now you caught me. What do you want to talk about?”
“Oh, uh, um, I wanted to tell you that I liked the poem you read at the festival last night,” Daren gulped and turned to face her, “Who was it about?”
“You mean, ‘Who do I dream about?’,” Elana gazed into his eyes and they seemed to float closer to each other. Both of them gasped in pain as they felt something pierce their sides. Elana laid her head down as if she was dead, but Daren drew his dagger and lurched to his feet.
“Now she’ll have no choice but to dream about you,” came a squeaky voice from behind him as sinister, high-pitched laughter seemed to come from all around. He spun around a few times, swinging his dagger like a sword, then fell to the ground, too dizzy to function.
“So, this is the one that rescued her from the human before he could bring her to us,” Quade picked the Daren up by the throat.
“It doesn’t matter now,” Yaron said as Shage and Ramah picked up Elana’s body, “We have what we came for. Blind the boy and leave him.” Quade jabbed his dagger in both of Daren’s eyes, then threw him screaming to the ground and began to walk away.
“Elana!” Daren cried and he held his bleeding eyes. Quade turned around, went back up to Daren, and broke each of his wings over his knee.
“Tell your clan the next time they cross the Quicklings will be their last.”

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