Page 2 of Fairies Don't Fall

The werewolf girl, still in her beast form, slashed at the owl’s leg, the one that was holding us. The owl dropped us with a cry of pain. The sound of its screeching filled my ears and my head in an echo that went on and on forever as we tumbled towards the hard stone below.

I’m a fairy. Fairies have gorgeous wings that are also functional, right? Not when you shred them during a war and then you’re too sick to have beautiful new wings grow in after that set comes off. My wings were spindly, tattered, and dull. Still, I stretched them out and did my best to break our fall. A pity werewolves were so ridiculously heavy.

We hit hard, first her and then me, rolling across the jagged rocks and shredding my poor wings, shoulders, and knees, like my skin was as delicate as a flower petal.

The werewolf was on top of me, her beast’s elbow in my gut as the smaller owls started circling closer and closer, screeching louder and louder.

I sighed heavily and turned so I could frown at the beast girl. It was time to solve this problem I’d jumped into without considering what it would do to my mission. I was here to find the fairy who wanted to poison werewolves so I could stop them, not get entangled, literally and figuratively, with a massive monster that smelled like candied melons.

“What did you do?” I demanded, trying desperately to sound like I wasn’t afraid of wolves, or beasts, or little girls. Honestly, all three of those were terrifying.

She blinked and then the beast melted away and I was faced with the humanoid version. “I wanted a baby owl for a pet. I put the egg in a helmet, so it should still be safe,” she said quickly, nodding over her shoulder, and the backpack she wore.

“You stole that monster’s egg?” That’s exactly what I’d done at a certain age. “How old are you?”

“Thirteen. But I’m not a kid.”

She was thirteen? She wasn’t any older than that mama owl’s baby. Owl talons raked across her head, sending fresh runnels of blood streaming down her pale skin.

I pulled her backpack off, pushed her to her feet, and threw my shadow cloak over her. “Run!” I said as I put the backpack between my feet and stood up, facing the owls.

Apparently, I was here to protect all the wolves, even if the threat wasn’t from fairies. I was clearly still addled from my medicine, or I wouldn’t be about to fight an army of birds for a beast.

I took a deep breath and channeled the light and movement that I’d need to fight off the owls. Correction. I tried to channel light and movement, but failed miserably. I was slow, heavy, cut, bruised, and lethargic, both from my medication and the sickness. Apparently, I needed different medication if it made me this weak. No, the weakness was from the death sickness. The slowness was from the medication. Or maybe it was the opposite.

I did my best, but I wasn’t fighting those feathery beasts long before the sheer mass of them made it impossible to do anything other than duck and cover my head with my arms, and hope they got bored and went away.

A roar echoed through the cavern, not just a werewolf roar, but the roar of a werewolf warrior gathering his troops. A monster. A beast. The enemy.

The owls fled, leaving me there, wishing they’d come back so I didn’t have to face one of the real nightmares.

I started for the nearest exit, wishing with all my heart for my cloak while I stumbled along, my dark, sparkly blood leaving a toxic trail behind me. I didn’t even see the werewolf coming. Helunged out of the darkness, grabbed me by the base of my wings, and dragged me around to face him. He scowled at me through his dark beard, eyes like slivers of the golden moon beneath dark, disapproving brows. He looked so human, but he smelled of wolves. Of beasts. Of death and pain and losing everything you were supposed to protect.

I kicked at him, aiming for his knee, but he shifted so I got his thigh instead. I kicked again, thrashing, punching at him, but unable to hit anything other than his arm as he held me away from him, dangling by my wings.

“Let me go, you big, stupid, furry monster!” I screeched, kicking and thrashing like that would help. The way he looked at me was mostly irritated, but with a flash of amusement that made me kick harder. “I’m not a joke, you beastly beast! Let me down!”

He tsked, which was a far cry from the roar, holding me a little higher so he could look into my eyes. “You came to my territory to steal from the owl god and to insult the werewolves?” He nudged the backpack with one foot, shaking his head at me, like I was the young wolf who had so little sense. Also, the words, the tone, they were all so… commanding. Like he was in charge of an irritating child who didn’t understand sense or duty. He sounded like every bodyguard I’d ever had before my mother died.

I kicked at him. “I’m not a child! And I didn’t steal some ridiculous owl egg!”

He gave me a look then glanced at the helmet with its enormous owl egg. “You’re telling me that I’m seeing things?”

I struggled to slice at him with my wings, but the way he grasped them made it impossible. The werewolf knew how to hold a fairy the way that didn’t get you killed. “I’m telling you to put me down!”

“You’re telling me?” he asked, shaking his head. “You don’t tell werewolves anything. You ask. You beg. You don’t tell. Do you know what werewolves do with fairies?” he asked, raising his brows.

I stared at him, remembering so many horrible things I’d seen werewolves do to fairies. Eating them was probably the worst. Alive. From the feet up. Screaming.

Everything was getting far away and weird. I should get out of his grasp and shove my claws in his chest until he bled out, but I couldn’t reach him, so I just swung there, dangling from his fist, swiping at him and noting how pointless it was. Why struggle?

I went limp in his grasp, dangling like a carrot he’d just pulled out by the tops. All the memories, all the pain, the burden of a broken people when I was so broken myself, it ate at me more painfully than a werewolf bite. Even the kind that almost chopped you in half.

He studied me for a moment longer before he nodded decisively. “We rehabilitate them.”

I blinked at him. I must have heard wrong. “Reha-what?” I asked, squinting. The cavern was dark, but I could see in the dark as well as a werewolf. I still couldn’t see what he meant by that word. I knew the word itself, but for a werewolf to use it in this case was nonsense.

“Therapy. If you were out of it enough to come to my cavern, you deserve what’s coming to you.”

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