Dust (Of Dust and Darkness) - By Devon Ashley Page 0,7
fellow pixies may think I’d up and bail on the village. If Poppy thought that way about me too, I’d really be depressed. Maybe this is why she gets annoyed when I don’t come home to sleep sometimes. Maybe she’s afraid she’ll awake one morning, come to look for me and I won’t be there anymore. We’re closer than most pixies think. She’s always been kind to me, even though I do seem to be a little different than the rest. But I have no interest in changing who I am or how I live. I always thought she got that about me, even when the others didn’t, but now Tracker has me wondering.
“Assignments for this month went up,” she says, breaking the lull between us.
Grateful for the change in thought, I say, “Oh yeah? What did we get?”
“You got seeding. I got cross-pollination, thank Mother Nature. Four weeks of fertilizing has totally singed my nose hairs, but the stench did keep me from eating so I dropped a quarter of an ounce.” That last part makes her scrunch her nose playfully and smile brightly.
I’m happy I got seeding. I enjoy plucking seeds from plentiful areas and replanting them in the more desolate areas of the forest. Not only do I get the satisfaction of knowing a seedling that wouldn’t have had room to grow in one area will grow abundantly in an area that really needs life, I also get to spend time in areas that are pixie-free. There’s nothing but bugs and small creatures to observe and learn from. I find the solitude peaceful.
Hmm… Maybe Tracker and Poppy are right about me being standoffish towards my fellow pixies. Truth is, I’m happiest when I’m out on my own, getting lost in nature.
Poppy shivers as the wind blows a fine mist our way, and little bumps speckle across her pale reddish-orange glow. The storm is approaching fast and her eyes fill with concern. She stands and shakes the miniscule drops of moisture from her wings. “I’m going back to the forest floor. Will you come with me?” There’s doubt in her voice because she already knows my answer.
“Nah. Think I’ll stay up here a little longer.”
The wind blows harder, bringing more mist this time. Poppy doesn’t wait. She drops beneath the canopy and the sound of her wings is lost instantaneously in competition with the howling wind. I inhale deeply and savor the smells of wet earth. Tiny specks of rain fall diagonally in the air and splash against my skin. Most pixies hate being caught in the rain because of the way it clings to our wings. Taking a bath and shaking the water out is one thing, but constant rainfall makes it nearly impossible to dry our wings. Just a single drop landing on a wing is enough to throw off our sense of balance. Saturated wings can weigh us down and make it nearly impossible to keep flight, stranding us where we land until the weather clears.
Me? I love the rain. And I don’t mind if my wings get a little wet. It’s not too hard to navigate once you learn how to compensate the weight of an unexpected raindrop. But for some reason, most pixies refuse to allow themselves to be put in that position to begin with. I know I’m not the only pixie in the Hollow that can fly in the rain, but I’m pretty sure I’m the only one that intentionally gets caught in it. Practice makes perfect, and I can fly with quite a bit of water on my wings, if needs be.
The wind picks up and swirls around me dramatically, whipping my hair loose from the strands of braided moss securing it back in a ponytail. The rain is heavier now, and stings when it strikes my delicately thin wings. Now is the time to go, before the storm escalates into something even I don’t want to get caught in. I stand upright, fighting the force of the wind smacking against me, trying to throw me around involuntarily. I startle as a group of birds take sudden flight just three trees away. Curiously, they head directly towards the storm instead of my way, towards safety. I watch in wonderment for a moment, then analyze their tree, seeking the reason of their quick abandonment. The storm makes it impossible to hear anything, and the erratic swishing and swaying of the tree limbs make it just as difficult to spot any anomalies