Dust (Of Dust and Darkness) - By Devon Ashley Page 0,1

I love my tree house. I’m sure if the right pixie is out there, he’s going to feel the same way.”

Her mouth drops and her face scrunches in such a way that screams an overdramatic oh, the horror, but she quickly answers with, “Whatever. Come on. The others are already gathering at the river.” She doesn’t wait for me to reply – probably afraid I would say no.

I step out of my tree house and onto one of the thick Lauralyn stems supporting my favored home. I built the structure way up high in the canopy. Partially because I love to watch the sky, but mostly because it offers me a sense of privacy I just don’t get down in the village. I give my wings a little shake and catch out of the corner of my eye the yellowish magical shimmer that courses through the veins and crossveins. I dive into the air and allow myself to fall head first with my eyes shut tight. I know exactly how long I can fall before my wings need to activate and curve my descent ninety degrees. When they do, I feel a hefty amount of air rage against my form, angry that I defied gravity once more. My eyes open and I shoot forward above the dirt paths lined with gorgeous green ferns that zigzag through the forest. Poppy dips from above and cuts me off, shaking her head at me for performing my nosedive. She finds my actions pretty reckless most of the time. I consider it enjoying life. I see her dive into a bush of miniature strawberries and exit the other side with a reddish blur secured under each arm. I follow suit and pluck two of the succulent ruby-red fruits from the stems for myself, the green leaves gently brushing against my skin.

I follow Poppy as she leads us into the heart of our Hollow.

Pixies of all ages are already up and about doing their morning chores. The older females are cleaning up around the homes we’ve burrowed into the tall Lauralyn trees. They use a cluster of pine needles to sweep the dirt and leaves that have blown into their homes during the night, the sap snatching everything within its sticky grasp. The younger males have already piled fresh twigs in bundles at each of the fire pits around the village. The older males are working on various jobs that keeps our little village functioning. Three are shaving wood into usable pieces of furniture. One is going around knocking down spider webs that went up overnight. Teenage females like Poppy and I gather fruits and nuts every morning. We deposit our strawberries to the pile already started on the large, flat river rock in the middle of the Hollow. I snag one of the wildflower seeds amongst the fruits and nuts, and devour the morsel as we continue on our way.

Poppy doesn’t take us out of the village though. Instead, she pulls her body upright and stops at the base of the home we share. When Poppy and I turned sixteen last year, we were allowed to move outside the pixling home and we chose each other as roommates. We’ll stick together until the end, unless one of us decides to bond with a mate, which surely Poppy will. I pull to a stop beside her. “I thought we were meeting the others.”

“We are. But seriously, you’ve got to change,” she complains, her eyes scanning my body with disapproval.

I shake my head in amusement, but push through the front door anyway. The width of our Lauralyn tree is smaller than most in the Hollow, but I don’t mind, seeing how I prefer the simplicity of my tree house anyway. Poppy complains about it all the time though. She’s still petitioning our elders to carve out a larger tree for us. But seriously, how much room does a six-inch pixie need?

The main cubby on the ground floor is the largest room we have. The tree is hollow, but leaves five inches all around to maintain the structural integrity of the tree. The walls are about a foot high and have a chiseled look to them. Most pixies sand down their walls and make them smooth, but we like that our walls look rough and raw. Well, I like it. Poppy just didn’t want to bother with that kind of labor. One would think hollowing out the base of a tree would be detrimental, and it would