The first time I met one of the Fae, I was 15 years old.
When I was little, I constantly stayed away from the forest, terrified of the Faerie Folk that lived there, preying on young girls such as myself. Parents told their children awful tales of what happened to people who went into the woods and met a faerie; they were stolen away, or killed, or enslaved.
Everyone in the stories had one thing in common: none of them came out of the forest alive.
And so, I stayed far from the woods, and lived at home like a good little girl, watching Netflix and hanging out with my friends, and doing what everyone else my age did.
My best friend, Zoe, adored the stories of the Folk. “Tell it again!” She begged, whenever hearing a particularly awful story of some mortal getting brutally murdered by a Fae. Meanwhile, I hid my head under a pillow and told myself it wasn’t real.
At age 15, everyone knew the truth; the Fae weren’t real! They were just a silly story, made up by parents to keep us out of the woods, away from wolves or bears, or whatever really lurked in there. But magical creatures? Yeah, right.
People started daring each other to do stupid things, like run into the woods and yell made-up magic words, or carve stuff into trees. You couldn’t back out if you were dared to do something like that. You’d be called a coward, or a chicken, and everyone would make fun of you.
So that was how I found myself stumbling through the forest one summer evening, clutching a pocket knife and planning to carve my initials into the first birch tree I saw. That was the dare, made up by my friend Laura, and of course I couldn’t refuse.
I finally spotted the white, papery bark of a birch, and walked towards it. Holding up the pocket knife, I hesitated for a moment.
“Whatever are you doing?”
I let out a shriek at the voice, spinning around so fast I almost fell over.
A girl who looked about my age stood a few feet away. She was staring at me, head tilted slightly to the side, like a curious puppy. She had the brightest red hair I’d ever seen, so glossy and scarlet I was sure it must be dyed. Her eyes were as green as the spring foliage above, and narrow like a cat’s.
The longer I looked at her, the stranger she seemed. It was little things; her eyes a little bit too wide and set too close together; her skin so perfect it looked like it was made of porcelain; the tips of her ears pointed and sharp. The tilt of her head didn’t look puppy-like anymore – it seemed condescending, like a professional artist looking at a child’s drawing.
I must have looked as startled as I felt, because she smiled at my shock. Her teeth were sharp and pointed, like fangs. Her smile was unnerving; she looked like she had been studying human smiles, but hadn’t quite mastered the art.
I knew, immediately, in that moment, what she was.
A Fae. This was a Fae.
“Hello,” she said, her voice like tinkling bells, soft and clear. “What’s your name?”
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. I wasn’t sure if I should tell this creature my name.
“Um,” I managed at last.
She laughed again, and I felt uncomfortable. “It’s all right. There’s no need to worry. What’s your name?”
Her voice got slightly sharper. Her eyes seemed to grow larger and greener, and before I could stop myself, I blurted, “Valerie.”
“Valerie,” she repeated, the word falling like honey from her lips. “That’s a nice name. My name is Kaira.”
I nodded breathlessly.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her pointed ears. “What are you doing?”
I glanced down at the pocket knife. It was lying innocently on the mossy forest floor, having slipped from my grasp at some point. I hadn’t even noticed.
“Uh, no- nothing,” I stammered out, panicked. I knew how powerful Fae were rumoured to be, and now one was standing in front of me.
Kaira didn’t seem angry. If anything, her smile grew. “How interesting! I always knew mortals could lie, but I’ve never seen one do it before.”
It was then I remembered an important note from the stories I had grown up listening to; Faeries could not lie. They could misguide or mislead, exaggerate or understate, dance around the truth as much as they liked, but they could not lie.
Still, I was wary. I took a step back, a twig snapping beneath my feet.
“Oh, don’t go!” Kaira looked truly heartbroken at the idea of me leaving. “We’ve only just met!” She had a funny way of talking, as if she was from one of those old English books I read in school. Her accent was unique, though; I didn’t recognise it.
“I gotta get back,” I said, my voice a bit higher pitched than usual. “My friends will be worried.”
“Oh, don’t be silly,” Kaira said dismissively. “They can wait. That’s all you mortals really do anyway, isn’t it? Wait around until you die?”
I spluttered indignantly. “No! We do other things.”
“Oh, of course!” Kaira said soothingly. “You live very fulfilling lives, I’m sure. But wouldn’t you mind waiting and talking to me for a bit longer? I’m very lonely, you see.”
I hesitated. “Well. . .”
She did look so upset, and her voice sounded sweet and genuine. After all, the Fae couldn’t lie. Maybe she really was lonely.
“Okay.”
Kaira smiled so warmly I felt like there was a fire lighting in my chest. “Wonderful!” She waved a hand, and a picnic blanket appeared on the forest floor, laden with treats and snacks. My mouth watered.
The Fae took a seat, tucking her legs neatly underneath her swishy blue skirt that reminded me of ocean waves. “Do sit down. You can eat whatever you like.”
I wasn’t stupid. I’d heard all the stories about Faerie food. One bite and you’d be condemned to work for them for a thousand years, or worse. I didn’t take anything, instead sitting down, shifting uncomfortably.
Kaira studied me carefully – like a bored teenager who was about to dissect a frog, and wasn’t going to be very careful about it. Her green eyes seemed to stare straight into my soul. I wondered if Faeries could read minds. I’d never heard about it, but it sounded pretty plausible to me.
“So, tell me,” Kaira said calmly, picking up a knife and slicing into a large lemon drizzle cake, “I haven’t been to the mortal realm in far too long. How are things going over there?”
I shrugged. “Uh, things are fine, I guess.”
“Oh, don’t be silly,” Kaira said with that same tinkling laugh. I wished she’d stop. She was making me feel like an idiot. “Something exciting must have happened. You mortals always do something interesting. What has happened in the last century?”
I couldn’t just get up and leave, so I started talking. I didn’t have much to say for myself, but I found myself talking for what seemed like forever, but was probably only a few minutes. Eventually I ran out of steam and sat there, waiting for her verdict.
Kaira had finished nibbling on her square of cake (she reminded me of a squirrel, though obviously I didn’t say that) and smiled at me. “How quaint. It’s never boring in the mortal world, is it?”
I shook my head, unsure of what answer she wanted me to give. That must have been the correct one, though, because she smiled at me again. “Perhaps it’s because you lead such short little lives. Faeries live forever, so I suppose we don’t feel the need to create so much drama and excitement to fill our place in the universe.”
I wrinkled my nose slightly. Did she mean to be so patronising?
Kaira just giggled at my expression. “Oh, I didn’t mean to offend you, I promise! Don’t be upset. I don’t want to drive you away.”
“It’s okay,” I said weakly, because what else could I say? I couldn’t do anything, even if she offended me, but if I offended her? She could kill me with a mere snap of her fingers.
“I have to go,” Kaira said after watching me squirm for a moment. She stood up, brushing imaginary crumbs from her skirt. “You will come back, won’t you?”
“Yes,” I said without thinking. “Sure.”
Kaira smiled, and then slipped away into the trees. I sat there for a moment, until I realised the picnic blanket was gone and my jeans were covered in moss. I scrambled to my feet, and ran back through the woods, back to where my friends were waiting.
I had no idea just how soon I would be back.
