Prilla flew into a hanging basket. The basket rocked, spewing rivets. Tink was on the floor while picking up rivets, too angry to scold. She thought Prilla was as clumsy as a Clumsy!

"Sorry!"

"Nobody says sorry!"

Prilla picked up rivets too. The floor was painted white, so they were easy to see. She peeked at the room around her.

"Oh!" She sat back on her haunches, rivets forgotten. "Oh!"

The workshop walls and ceiling were covered in shiny steel. The room was circular, and the ceiling was domed.

Prilla wondered, "Am I…? Could it be…?"

Tink smiled at her astonishment. Prilla saw her smile and found the courage to ask, "Am I in a big… pot?"

Tink's smile grew wider. "It was a Clumsy's teakettle. I found it on the beach. At first it was in Tinker's Nook, but then it was moved here."

Tink had hammered out its dents, and had cleaned and polished it inside and out. She'd turned the spout upside down to make the door awning, and she'd punched out holes for windows and doors.

"We're inside a teakettle!" Prilla spun around. "A teakettle, oh, my, you're so talented, Tink."

Now she was saying it.

"Thank you." Tink couldn't help adding, "It's the only inside a pot workshop on the island."

Prilla said, "Could I see something you've fixed?"

Tink flew to a table by the door, which held items that hadn't yet been picked up by their owners. She picked up a frying pan.

"I finished this one yesterday. A piece had broken off."

"I see it!" Prilla said, following a jagged outline with her finger. She didn't think Tink could be so accomplished if her repairs stood out so clearly.

Tink started to laugh. "That's a…" she was laughing too hard to finish the sentence, "That's a…"

A minute passed. Tink kept laughing. Prilla didn't see anything the slightest bit funny.

Finally Tink's laughter died down. "It's a joke. That's not where it broke. I just put that there." Her laughter bubbled up again, "To fool everyone!"

Prilla smiled uneasily. Tink sobered. "Try to find the real place that it broke." It was a test as good as any. If Prilla found it, she must be a tinker.

Prilla's glow vibrated with nervousness. She took the frying pan and inspected it. "Um…" She brought the pan almost to her nose. She didn't see anything. Except for the false crack, the frying pan was utterly smooth, utterly black! She turned it over. On the back of the handle was Tink's talent mark in red berry paint of a tiny hammer made with a stick, a stone, and a blade of grass. On the hammer was the letters TB. Prilla saw the mark, but nothing else. She knew she'd failed.

Tink hadn't liked her much before, but she'd like her even less now. Tinker Bell hadn't bonded with Prilla over the talent issue. Sure, Tink hadn't wanted to be a tinker at first, but this was much different. Prilla's case was something unheard of in Pixie Hollow. A fairy who had touched every one of the items, but every one of the items had turned dark.

"I can't find it."

Tink was surprised how let down she felt. Now Prilla still needed fixing, and the tinkers didn't have a new fairy, and the ladle was still leaky.

"This is the real break," Tink said. She traced a crack that Prilla still couldn't see. "Come, I'll show you what I'm working on now."

Prilla forced a smile. Tink went to the pots and pans on her work table, a wonderful pile, days and days of puzzles for her to solve. She took the leaky ladle from the top of the pile and held it up. "This is it."

The ladle handle was made of Never pewter, a smoky blue variety, produced only on Never Land. The bowl part was made of an acorn cap.

"It doesn't always leak, but when it does, it leaks mulberry juice, only mulberry juice, no matter what liquid it's dipped in! It's a fascinating case."

The ladle would be needed often tonight, and if it wasn't fixed, it was sure to show up.

"I don't know," Tink went on, "where the leak is, or if it's a pinprick leak, or a squiggle leak." She sat on the stool by the work table; her legs curled under the table, and cupped her hands under the bowl of the ladle.

Tink used her fingers to feel the rough underside of the bowl. She forgot Prilla entirely. She wasn't trying to be unkind, but she wasn't trying to be kind either. Prilla hovered quietly, feeling lonelier than ever. 10 minutes passed. Tink selected jars and tubes of adhesive. She mixed a little of this and a little of that in a bowl. Prilla edged towards the door. Why did she have to stay here? Her talent, if she had one, was elsewhere. She should be looking for it. She reached the door and looked back. Tink's head was bent down over the ladle. Prilla said, too softly for Tink to hear, "I'm leaving now. Thank you for showing me your workshop. Goodbye."

She pushed the door open and slipped out.