Page 4 of Perfectly Petite Shorts
Walking down the winding garden path, Nirgal headed toward the forest edge. His impromptu entourage included Gashan, Cassius, and LizAnne. Cradling the box presumably containing the remainder of the sprite colony, LizAnne kept a steady pace.
Stepping past the tree line, Nirgal spread his hands wide. “This, my little sprite, can all be yours.”
Nirgal heard the sprite inhale before it zipped from his head and headed into the forest. That buzz of light could be seen dashing this way and that, landing fleetingly beforetaking off again.
“Sir?” Cassius cautiously questioned. “Am I to assume King Moony has gifted you with a colony of sprites?” Cassius inclined his head toward the box in LizAnne’s hands.
“I believe so, should they agree to the move,” Nirgal answered.
“Why would they decline?” Gashan asked.
LizAnne spoke up. “Sprites require a healthy forest to thrive. They can revive a failing forest but cannot bring back one that has deteriorated too far. Sprites thrive on insects and need good trees from which to carve homes. In this day and age, they also require protected land.”
Cassius bristled. “Our forest is impeccable. I do not see how they can find fault.”
Nirgal’s amusement grew. “I suspect sprites have a much different opinion regarding what makes animpeccableforest than you or I.”
“Possibly,” Cassius reluctantly conceded.
“I have to say, I agree with Cassius,” LizAnne stated. “This forest appears to be perfect for them. I do not believe there will be any concerns.”
The sprite’s glow grew brighter until it hovered in front of Nirgal. “I need to speak with my colony.”
“Please do,” Nirgal answered.
A cacophony of sound erupted as soon as the sprite entered the box. Cassius and Gashan flinched while Cassius complained, “They are certainly a noisy group.”
Nirgal couldn’t fault his nestling and so remained silent as he eagerly awaited the verdict. He didn’t need to wait long. The sprite flew back out and this time alighted on Nirgal’s outstretched palm.
“Have you come to a decision?” Nirgal asked.
The little sprite crossed his arms and answered with a question. “The forest is yours?”
Nirgal nodded. “It is.”
“And you protect it? No humans allowed?”
“No humans would dare,” Nirgal confidently answered.
The sprite’s face split into a wide grin, his wings buzzing with excitement. “Then we happily accept.”
With a high-pitched whistle, the sprite called to his colony and a flood of firefly lights dashed out of the opening. They circled Nirgal’s head, flying higher and lighting the area with their joy. Throwing his head back, Nirgal’s lips pulled away from his fangs, their ivory glint exposed for the world to see as he let loose a joyful laugh.
“King Moony and Peaches will be pleased their gift was accepted,” LizAnne said, her own smile lighting up her features. “They will be very pleased indeed.”
Peat
“We need to talk, Peat.”
Peat wondered if anything good had ever come from hearing those four words.We need to talknever preceded anything favorable. He should know. Peat had lost count of the number of times he’d heard them. He’d also lost count of the times he’d seen the pitying smile plastered on Mr. Cunningham’s face. Not his face, in particular, simply any and every living creature that had a face.
Peat didn’t bother asking what the problem was while he followed Mr. Cunningham down three flights of stairs and into a sitting room that had been transformed into an office. The Dunleavy Estate and Botanical Gardens was a small, privately owned and financed acreage. The original owner, Marcus Dunleavy, was long since deceased. The estate had been passed down through the centuries until either Marcus ran out of heirs or those heirs ran out of money. Peat wasn’t sure which and cared even less. Over the years, the estatepassed into disrepair until it was purchased by a human with more money than the Goddess herself.
The property was being rehabbed and altered to become an event location that would host weddings, reunions, corporate retreats—those kinds of things. Renovations were nearing completion, and due to Peat’s hard work, the small castle was magnificent once more. As a home-and-hearth pixie, he would have been ashamed if it were anything less than glorious after two years on the job. No doubt, Petal, the nature pixie who’d been hired to care for the gardens felt the same.
Jerry Cunningham was the human who hired Peat. He wasn’t the owner of the property. He was the manager. Mr. Cunningham did the hiring and firing. He put out fires and lit just as many under the workers’ asses. Peat had grown to like the aging human, and if he read him correctly, Mr. Cunningham liked Peat too. Mr. Cunningham often said Peat was the one employee he didn’t have to micromanage. He’d said Peat was the best hire he’d made. While the owners had deep pockets, they skimped where they could. That’s where Peat came in.
Mr. Cunningham slipped into a large chair nestled behind an even larger, ornate wooden desk. The modern computer sitting atop it appeared out of place.
