The Fairies of Sherwood Forest

Ella was helping a beetle out of a footprint when Celine landed beside her. The footprint was wider than a lily pond. At its bottom, the beetle waved six muddy legs. Ella touched a trailing vine and coaxed it down the slippery side. The beetle climbed out, shook itself, and hurried underneath a leaf. Celine looked from the footprint to the flattened ferns beyond it. Something enormous had walked through Sherwood Forest.

Ella and Celine were six years old, best friends, and fairies. Ella had a short dark bob that fluttered when she flew. Celine had two dark braids that bounced behind her shoulders. They were small enough to sit together on an oak leaf, and they looked after the forest around their tree. Usually that meant freeing tangled seedlings or finding a lost snail. Today, it meant following footprints that swallowed the whole path.

At the forest edge stood a village with a well, a bakery, and little gardens. Now a gate lay flat across the road. Cabbages rolled in the ditch. A woman was fitting a board over her window when Celine landed on the sill. “Every night,” the woman told her. “They come every night. We mend the fences in the morning, and by bedtime they break them again.” From inside the house came the worried bleating of a goat.

Ella flew to the broken gate. Deep marks led away from it and back between the trees. Whatever had made them had gone home. She pointed out the trail to Celine, who gathered a little ball of light between her hands. It shone over the roots as they followed the marks into the darkest part of Sherwood Forest. Behind them, the bakery shutter closed with a bang.

The trail ended at a hole beneath a rocky hill. It was so enormous that an oak tree could have fitted inside without bending its branches. Ella and Celine crouched behind a fern beside the entrance. Something scraped in the darkness. Then came a cough, a rattle, and a voice complaining that someone was standing on its roof. Celine squeezed Ella’s hand. The sun slipped behind the hill.

The first monster stepped out wearing a dirty coat with buttons as big as plates. It looked like an ugly villager stretched taller than a cottage, with a lumpy nose and a crooked, scowling mouth. It kicked a stone into the bushes. Behind it shuffled a snowman, much taller than any snowman children could build. Sharp needles poked out of its snowy head. When it shook itself, the needles clicked together like knitting needles in a bag.

Next came an alien with long knees and eyes that seemed to be looking in different directions. It looked so dizzy that it steadied itself against the hillside before taking another step. A creepy house squeezed out behind it on four thick legs. Its windows blinked yellow. Its front door opened into a mouth, and smoke puffed from its chimney when it grumbled. Ella watched a loose shutter flap against its cheek.

The fifth monster crawled out, unfolded its long legs, and stared at a pebble. It had a wide, blank face and a puzzled expression, as though it did not know anything at all—not even what a pebble was. It tucked the pebble into the fold of one enormous ear. Last came a skeleton, so tall that its skull brushed an overhanging branch. Its bones made a soft clatter as it carefully bent beneath it.

The other monsters were already striding away when the skeleton stopped. A fallen branch had pinned a little sapling to the ground. The skeleton lifted the branch, eased the sapling upright, and pressed the soil around its roots with one finger. Celine watched it straighten a curled leaf. Then the house called from farther down the path, and the skeleton hurried after the others.

Ella rose above the fern. All six were heading toward the village. Celine put out her light so they would not be noticed, and the friends flew through the branches, taking the shorter way over the hill. They reached the forest edge just as the monsters came around the bend. The house’s window-eyes glowed. Beyond the last trees stood the village, with every door shut. Ella and Celine flew down to the broken gate.

The villager-monster lifted one huge boot over the gate. Ella could see mud packed into its sole and a twig caught beside the heel. High above her, the monster was looking at the bakery roof. It never glanced down at the two fairies beside its foot. Celine crouched behind a cabbage leaf while Ella laid both hands on a vine growing along the ditch.

“Curl,” Ella whispered. The vine wound around the monster’s ankle. Ella leaned backward and gave it a sharp tug. The boot stopped in the air, wobbled, and came down in the mud instead of on the gate. The monster grabbed its coat to keep its balance. “Who pulled my foot?” it roared. Ella ducked beneath the leaf beside Celine. Neither of them made a sound.

The snowman pushed past, its prickly head scraping the lowest branches. Celine slipped out and gathered a bright spark. She sent it darting straight toward the snowman’s nose. Pop! The snowman jerked backward, slapped its own face, and showered the path with snow. “Something poked me!” it cried. Celine guided the spark away from the cottage and toward the alien’s long knees.

The alien spun after the light. Its elbow struck the house’s loose shutter, which banged shut over one window-eye. “Stop hitting my face!” boomed the house. It shoved the alien with its front step. The villager-monster turned to complain and trod on the house’s back foot. Soon three enormous voices were arguing above the fairies’ heads. Ella took the chance to wind a second vine around the snowman’s ankle.

The puzzled creature spotted Celine’s spark and cupped both hands around it. She whisked the light between its fingers. It opened its hands, inspected them, and tried again. This time Celine sent the spark behind its ear. The creature turned its head to follow it, and the pebble dropped onto the house’s roof. The house gave such an offended rumble that soot shot out of its chimney.

Under cover of the noise, Ella pulled her vines toward the forest. Celine kept the light dancing just beyond the monsters’ hands. Step by grumbling step, the giants moved away from the nearest cottage. Behind a shutter, the woman with the goat peered through a crack. Celine gave her a quick wave, although she doubted the woman could see anything so small in the dark.

Then the villager-monster planted both boots and pulled. Ella felt the vine stretch through her hands. With a crack, it snapped. She tumbled backward into a clump of grass. The monster stamped on the loose end. “It’s the bushes!” it announced. It seized a handful of branches and shook them, while Ella crawled out with a grass seed stuck in her hair. A single vine was much too weak.

Celine flew close to distract it, but the house swung its great shutter through the air. The gust threw her sideways. Her spark went out. She caught a twig with both hands and hung there until her wings stopped trembling. She could move her light while she could see it, but a fright could scatter it in an instant. Below her, the monsters fell quiet. They were listening.

Ella reached Celine’s twig and helped her onto a fence post. The snowman turned toward them. It lifted one broad white foot, blocking out the moon. Before the foot came down, a bony hand caught its ankle. The skeleton pointed toward the bushes on the other side of the path. “Over there,” it said. The snowman lurched away to search, leaving a cold drip on the post.

The skeleton knelt. Ella held a broken piece of vine in front of her, although it would not have stopped even one finger. Celine pressed close beside her. The great skull lowered until its eye sockets were level with their hiding place. The skeleton rested its hands on the ground and spoke so quietly that its jaw barely rattled. “I can see you.”

Celine recognized the careful hands. They were the ones that had freed the sapling. She stepped out from behind Ella’s shoulder. “You moved that branch,” she said. The skeleton nodded, then reached slowly into its ribs. Ella tightened her grip on the vine. But the skeleton brought out a small village basket with three potatoes still inside. It set the basket gently over the fence.

“I pick things up afterward,” the skeleton explained. “And I ask them to stop. They never listen.” It glanced toward the others, who were lifting bushes and peering underneath them. The house was demanding that the attacker come out and fight something its own size. Celine looked at the returned basket. Picking things up was kind, but tomorrow there would be more broken things unless they stopped the monsters tonight.

Ella lowered the vine. “Will you help us stop them before they break anything else?” The skeleton looked at the village, then at the enormous hole the snowman was stamping into the path. It laid one finger beside Ella’s hand. “Yes,” it said. Ella tested the finger with a small push. It was solid and strong. She began to think about the vine that had snapped.

There was an old clearing a little way inside the forest. Ella and Celine played there sometimes, racing between its mossy stones. A broad stony track led to it without passing any houses. Thick vines grew around the edge, where they had tangled together for years. Ella could not hold a monster with one strand. Perhaps many strands, braided like Celine’s hair, would be different.

Celine flew up to inspect the track. The narrowest gap was between two bare rocks, and even the house could fit through it. No nests hung overhead. She returned to find Ella explaining the clearing to the skeleton. Celine gathered a small light above her palm. “They keep trying to catch this,” she said. “I can take it along the track, and they can follow.” This time, she would keep well away from the shutters.

The skeleton led them through a gap in the bushes while the other monsters searched the roadside. In the clearing, Ella knelt beside the old vines. She coaxed three strands together, crossing one over another until they formed a rope. The skeleton pulled on it carefully. It held. It pulled a little harder. The rope creaked but did not break. Ella grinned and began adding more strands.

Together they arranged five broad loops across the clearing. The skeleton lifted each heavy braid into place while Ella guided the growing ends around the low, solid rocks. They left the middle open so the monsters would have room to stand without falling into one another. Celine checked each loop from above. The one for the house needed to be wider. Much wider.

Ella worked until her fingers tingled. Celine brought a bead of water on a leaf, and they shared it beside the largest rock. Then Celine practiced making her light appear over the center of the clearing while she hovered nearby. The skeleton stood at the far edge, ready to catch the last loose braid. The plan would work only if all five monsters came in before Ella tightened the loops.

Through the trees came a deep slam. The house had finished searching. Its windows swept yellow beams across the track and settled on the village. “I’m going to the bakery,” it announced. The villager-monster followed, with the snowman, alien, and puzzled creature behind it. Ella still had one loose end to fasten. Celine could hear boots crunching toward the broken gate.

She took one breath, then another, until her hands were steady. A light gathered between them, bright as a lantern. Celine flew out over the stony track and sent it flashing past the house’s windows. The house stopped. Five enormous heads turned. Celine drew the light toward the forest, and the first heavy footstep followed her.

Celine kept just above the light and guided it between the rocks. Behind her came thumps, scrapes, and the clacking of needles. The monsters watched the bright moving ball. None looked closely enough to see the little fairy flying in the dark above it. The puzzled creature hurried after the light with its hands open. The house called for everyone to move aside so it could catch the thing first.

The alien slowed at the clearing entrance and looked back toward the village. The skeleton stepped into the path behind it. “The light went this way,” it said, pointing between the stones. The alien turned again and followed. Celine reached the middle of the clearing. She lifted her light a little higher and counted: coat, snow, long knees, roof, puzzled face. All five were inside.

Ella pressed her palms against the braided vines. The loops rose from the ground and curled around enormous ankles. One settled around the house’s four legs. Another caught the snowman just above its broad feet. The monsters tried to stride forward and found they could take only tiny steps. The villager-monster stared down at its boots. “Who keeps doing that?” it bellowed.

The house gave a furious heave. A braid slid halfway over the smooth rock beside Ella. She clutched it, but the pull dragged her across the moss. “The loose end!” she called. The skeleton reached for it just as the house leaned again. Celine swung her light toward the house’s other window. The house turned to snap at the spark, briefly taking its weight off the vine.

The skeleton caught the braid in both hands. Ella flew to the rock and coaxed the slack around it twice, tucking the end beneath the crossed strands. Then she moved clear. When the house pulled again, the braid held. The other loops held too. Celine let her light settle into a soft glow. In the sudden quiet, everyone could hear the house’s shutter squeaking.

Ella flew up beside Celine. Together they rose until they hovered in front of the villager-monster’s lumpy nose. Its eyes crossed as it tried to look at them. The snowman bent forward. The alien stopped turning. “You?” said the house, in a voice so much smaller than before that its door only creaked. Celine’s braids stirred in the warm air from its chimney. “Both of us,” she said.

“You broke the village gate,” Ella told them. “And the fences. And all those little trees.” She pointed toward the dark forest path. “You’re going to mend them.” The villager-monster began to argue, but the skeleton stepped beside the fairies. It was just as tall as the others. “I’ll help with the mending,” it said. “I won’t help with any more breaking.” It folded its arms and stayed where it was.

The monsters looked at the vines, then at the skeleton. At last the villager-monster sat down on a flat stone. “There are tools in our hole,” it muttered. They made an agreement: no more raids, no more taking food, and repairs before anything else. Ella loosened the villager-monster’s loop first. The skeleton went with it to fetch the tools and the stolen baskets. Celine watched from the path while Ella stayed beside the remaining knots.

By sunrise, all five had begun helping. The house carried fence posts across its roof. The snowman held them upright while the villager-monster hammered. The alien untangled a crooked gate hinge. When the puzzled creature picked up a fence rail backward, Celine showed it which way to turn it. Nobody asked the villagers to trust them all at once. The woman kept her goat indoors until its fence was finished, then came out to inspect every post.

The next night, Ella and Celine waited on an oak branch overlooking the village. No enormous boots came down the path. The bakery window grew dark, and the goat settled behind its repaired fence. Below the branch, the skeleton pressed fresh earth around the last damaged sapling. Celine rested her head against Ella’s shoulder. A beetle climbed past their feet, found the path clear, and went quietly on its way.