Copyright 2013. PATG LLC. All rights reserved.

Chapter 4


Tock-Tock-Tock! Interrupted the knock.

Happy light glitters, shone through the lock.

Evanescent sparkles, floating to the floor,

Fell from the cloak that the knock knocker wore.

“Who is it? Who is it? Who is it? Who is it?!”

Both girls squealed, faces bright lit.

Running to the latch and opening the door,

In walked the Faerie Queen, in all her pompadour.

“Ebullient Birthday wishes!” the grand faerie bowed.

Merrily accompanied, by a small crowd,

Made up of sixty pixies, tiny in the air,

All with colored wings, and star flecks in their hair,

Each approaching Perlameen, beaming as they dare,

Mobbing her with presents, wrapped & bowed with care.

And also there came, joyous elves,

Lithe and lovely and tall themselves,

Beautiful as any faerie,

That trailed the Queen’s grand companary.

They smiled and glowed and sang with glee,

Joining in the birthday spree,

And when each pixie, faerie, and elf,

Looked at each other, and then themself,

But for the elvish lack of wings,

And pixies size, and tinklings,

All three races, there assembled,

Like one another each resembled.

It was as if they came to be,

From a common ancestor tree,

Of faerie, elf, and little pixie,

A berry branch split into three.

But outside the cottage, and birthday boon,

A spying black falcon flew past the moon.

Gliding far away, over tree and hill,

Out of the valley, aloft on windy chill,

A great plain it saw, in its eyes, in their sight,

Covered in white, an ice sheet of moonlight.

Rabbits, and rodents, and fox it saw there,

But fast flying onward, it searched other fare.

Then way down below, uncovered and slow,

A dot of a man it spied in the snow.

Wheeling and turning and guiding its flight,

Hawk dove to man’s body, straight from its height,

Deep digging its talons, with desperate bite,

Clawing and raking its master upright.

Ignited to life by talons grip,

The man stood up, with a stagger and slip.

Gasping and coughing, both eyes out of focus,

Unable to tell his current locus,

His eyes surveyed the snowy ground,

Of covered lumps odd shaped and round.

On one they peered with close intent,

Guessing what beneath was bent,

And then they jumped onto another,

And another and another,

Until they came to stop again,

Upon one lump not quite the same.

It was longer than the others,

And splayed beneath its snowy cover.

At this the man’s cold eyes sprung wide,

And sent him quick to snow lump’s side.

Doubled over, and mental with strain,

Fighting off his wounds and pain,

The man wiped off the snow lump clean,

Revealing a face, unconscious in dreams.

Groggy, foggy, chain armor soggy,

Bruises and breaks, wracking man’s body,

Freehand dragging a second man freezing,

Unconscious, bloody, barely breathing,

Man and falcon-hawk trudged snow together,

Strain compounded, by wind and weather.

And with a last spell, from his hapless hand,

Done without fanfare, plain and unplanned,

A full ten day trek, they magically spanned,

Speedily floating above the land.

Over white ice sheets, blinding in shine,

Up mountains steep, through sky touching pines,

The group of three raced, straight up to a summit,

Fingers and toes, fast frost biting from it.

Then with head throbbing, desperate for shelter,

Staggering, stumbling, helter skelter,

The man fell down fast, cold death in his belly,

As cottage appeared, down in the valley.