The Gods of Bogs and Grasses

“Grandma always said that’s why we’re so ugly,” Raye said, with another laugh. “Our ancestor gave all our beauty away. But she also passed down the fans, so someday, if we figure out the proper magic, we could re-capture that beauty. Or we could just enjoy having a gorgeous hand fan. You know, it might be the perfect centerpiece decoration for the living room.”

She started to reach for the fan, when her sister finally spoke.

“That’s not how the story really goes,” she said.

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A Fairy With A Soul

No one calls me Hildegard. I insist that all who meet me and know me call me Gard. I was once a wanderer, but I truly am a guard now. This is the tale of how and when my watch began. For I have set myself the task of watching over a child, my sister’s child, a strange child. My hope is that hers will be a good strangeness. My fear is that it will be a wicked strangeness. She does not care for me, my niece, for I broke a promise I made to her many years ago.

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