Every day I become more and more convinced that fairies are the most feeble creatures on the island.
Don't be so shocked, darling. Other fairies so often seem shocked at the things I say that, frankly, it has become irritating. Personally, I make it a point to never be shocked at anything.
But back to my argument.
Fairies are small and fragile. Practically anything can eat us (not that anything would want to.) Although we have wings, we still need a daily dose of pixie dust in order to fly. We can't swim because our wings weigh us down and, if we get water on them, those same wings keep us from flying until they dry.
You'd think that weak as we are, we would protect ourselves by wearing armor and carrying weapons. But, no, we wear petals and leaves and carry tools.
We are in danger of dying at any moment because, at any moment, some rotten child somewhere might decide to stop believing in fairies.
Simply put, we exist on dust and the beliefs of fickle clumsies.
Are you beginning to see what I mean?
I used to dream of becoming an eagle or a hawk. I dreamed that if I flew fast and far enough, the island would see my efforts and turn me into a strong fierce creature and then I wouldn't loathe what I was anymore.
Since then, I've decided that dreaming only wastes time and for a fast-flying fairy, time is too important to be wasted. Freshly plucked feathers make better pixie dust. Mother Dove has plenty of feathers to spare. So I plucked a couple and was far, far away before she could even cry out. I saved my special pixie dust. I allowed myself only a little, just to see what it was like.
It was like...becoming a zooming arrow. The world rushed by me at a speed that made even me dizzy. I cried out from both fear and bliss. But mostly bliss.
I wanted to pluck her again but after that, the other animal-talent fairies began to guard her. And queen Ree told me that I was "banished from her presence." Why did she assume that I would even want to be in Mother Dove's presence?
Of course there are brief moments when I wonder if along with Pixie dust, Mother Dove gives the others something else that I lack. Perhaps a daily dose of love and understanding?
Well, after all, you can't fly with those.