Once upon a time, there was a little white wood. This patch of wood grew on the side of a mountain, where every winter it snowed, every spring it rained, every summer it thrived, and every fall the leaves changed to yellow.
The wood was home to a family of deer, six colonies of rabbits, hosts of squirrels, and a little old gnome who was friends with Brimble Badger.
While the gnome, Woodstock, was engaged in merry conversation with Brimble, a tiny little faerie fell to the earth near their feet
You see, she’d fallen from the trees while trying to escape an evil crow who had chased her from the briar
Quite shocked, taken aback to many years ago when the Forest King had battled the Mountain Goats, Woodstock gasped, “Why what is this?”
Brimble bent down as the faerie sat up, “Hallo there little one, where did you come from?”
Shuddering the slightest, the faerie began to answer when the crow came shooting down from the sky. The faerie gave a yelp, jumping underneath Brimble Badger.
“Now see here, old Crow, whatever are you doing chasing this defenseless creature? Have you no shame?” Woodstock retorted angrily.
The crow furrowed his brow, “She has stolen my bell and I want it back.” The crow lied.
The gnome raised a brow, putting a fist to his hip, wagging the other to the crow, “Now see here, you are in the realm of the White Wood, and it is forbidden to chase Fae.’
“They are precious to the Forest King. And no matter what wrong she has done to you, you shall torment her no longer.”
Beady black eyes narrowed, were it possible. “She has to return to the briar some time. And when she does, the King will have no say in her Fate.” The crow took off, spraying bramble on them with his talons.
Continuing to tremble, the faerie needed coaxed to leave from under the warm chest of the badger. Brimble tapped lightly at her head with his claw, “My sweet, he has gone. You can come out now.”
An aura of orange emanated from the faerie, and they could see the thorns entangled around her leaf dress. Delicate leaves encircled her hair, which was pulled up with a rose stem
“Briar faeries are not so easily trusted.” She spoke timidly.
“I did steal his bell. But only because it was put on a cage, and the cage was meant to trap my sisters and I.”
Woodstock frowned, “And what would a crow do with faeries? Even those from the briar?”
It took the faerie a moment to respond, she knew the White Wood was a safe place, and yet she felt ashamed.
The Badger nodded, “Nevermind little one. Let us get you cleaned up and taken care of. You can tell us on the way to the King.”
“The Wood King?” She exclaimed with alarm.
“Indeed,” replied Woodstock. “He will want to hear of this terrible thing the Crow is doing.”
Pt 1. To be continued.