The mercy of the fey...

Sionnach was in a real bind. He'd always been known for his curiosity and cleverness, but this time that curiosity of his landed him in some serious trouble. The trinket he'd found had clearly belonged to the elder fey. Knowing that, he hadn't intended to do something stupid like steal it or break it. He'd just meant to give it a little look-see. Now, he was trapped. Somehow fey magic had captured him and wouldn't let him go.

His head was encircled by some translucent forcefield. It was almost invisible, but it caused just enough distortion to give him a headache. What was worse, it trapped his breath. It seemed to allow just enough air to flow that he wasn't about to suffocate, but most of the air he breathed in was the hot sticky air he'd breathed out a moment ago. The only thing he could smell anymore was his own breath.

The real danger lay in his inability to pass food or water through the magic. Whatever transgression Sionnach had committed, he hadn't thought it was deserving of a slow and agonizing death by thirst.

But that was the way of the fey. They were strange and cruel. They were as likely to give the gift of food as they were to condemn you to death over some minor infraction only they seemed to perceive.

None of Sionnach's friends or family could help. At first, they'd been curious, but as his distress became evident, they'd cried and pulled at the strange trinket to no avail. Through the field encompassing his head, their voices sounded twisted and distorted, making them sound like the banshee cry of the fey..

Thinking quickly, Sionnach realized there was only one chance left. If this was the magic of the elder fey, then only the fey could remove it. So, with a confidence born of the realization that this was his only chance at life, Sionnach set out on a journey to find a fey or die trying.

The problem was, there was no guarantee they would help him if he should find one. When a fey offered you food, sometimes it was given as a gift with no strings attached, but other times the recipient was whisked away into the night. Some never returned. Some were dropped off impossibly far from where they'd been stolen. Others were barely missed before they came back. But you could always tell the victim of the fey when they returned. They were forever changed.

There was a haunted look in their eyes that never went away completely. Sometimes they'd become obsessed with the fey, forever looking to follow them into their magnificent halls and join in their decadent feasts. Others developed a deep fear of the fey and would jump and cower at any unexpected noise forevermore.

But Sionnach had little choice. He simply had to hope luck was on his side this night, and he'd find one that was benevolent rather than... Well, that was best not thought about.

-

As his long journey continued, Sionnach was getting tired and thirsty, but he dared not lay down and rest. If he gave up now, he might never awaken.

As tired as he was, Sionnach felt a flair of hope when he found a trail left by the fay. There was no mistaking one of their trails. They were lined by stones of unearthly quality. Everything about these trails looked, felt, and even smelled wrong. It was a clear message that no one not of their world was welcome there.

If you absolutely had to cross a fey trail, it was best done as quickly and silently as possible. The fey rode up and down the trails with wild abandon. Their mounts had fierce glowing eyes, breath that smelled of smoke and fire, and their cries sounded as if the very devil was on the hunt. If anyone was unlucky enough to find themselves in the path of one of the wild hunts, there was no mercy to be found. They were trampled to death, and their bodies were left as a warning to everyone else, as if to say, "This is fey land, and only the fey are welcome here." Sionnach's mother had made sure to show him one such body when he was still very young. He'd never forgotten the reek of death and the memory haunted him all the more at this moment.

Sionnach had no intention of crossing the path and incurring their wrath, but perhaps if he wandered close enough to it, he'd eventually stumble upon a fey willing to help.

-

Sionnach's journey had failed. He was past his limit and simply didn't have the strength to go on. As he laid by the side of the path, he contemplated how absurd this all was. He was doomed to die for something as simple as a little innocent curiosity. It just wasn't fair...

That was when Sionnach noticed movement in the light reflecting through the magic. Even distorted, he could hear a voice that clearly belonged to one of the elder fey. It lacked the sharp, crisp sounds of a normal voice and instead rumbled and meandered as it morphed from one sound into another with barely any hesitation. It was as if the thing striding toward him didn't need to pause for breath as it sang.

Sionnach was suddenly filled with terror. This was a dark fey, he knew it! It was obviously here to mock him in the end, or maybe to make his last moments that much more agonizing. He struggled to get to his feet, but he was too heavy, thirsty, and tired. He was barely able to bat weakly at the giant fey as it grabbed hold of him.

The strength of this monster was beyond Sionnach's comprehension. The amount of power behind each finger was more than Sionnach had in his entire arm. All it would take was the slightest of squeezes or a quick twist, and he would be dead.

As he'd feared, the fingers began to squeeze. But just as Sionnach feared his bones would start to crack, they stopped. It was a firm grip, and not at all comfortable, but Sionnach could tell the fey was being oddly careful as it held him. Then the giant started pulling at the trinket which had him captive. As the trinket began to move, it got caught on Sionnach's ears. He was starting to fear they'd be torn from his head when with a sudden pop, the cursed thing came free.

Sionnach could finally hear, smell, and see once more. But perhaps that was the last cruel trick of the fey. He was free at last but too weak to do anything other than lie down and die. Sionnach would have cried if he had any water left for tears.

That was when the fey turned and rummaged through one of those mysterious packs some of them liked to carry. Sionnach didn't have long to wonder what he was looking for because soon, the fey pulled out a beautiful crystal container filled with glorious water. Then his mysterious savior took out a sheet of wood and bent and twisted it into an odd bowl, which he filled with the water from the crystal vial.

Sionnach hesitated a moment, remembering the tales of those whisked away by the fey for the sin of accepting an offered gift, but he was in no position to reject that which was before him. He took a careful sip. This was the purest, most wonderful water he'd had in his life!

Slowly at first, then with increasing eagerness, Sionnach drank his fill. Though he kept a close eye on the fey as he did so. He only stopped when his benefactor flashed its teeth in warning. Perhaps he'd gone too far and pushed the patience of this great being?

Best to not hang around and find out. With the energy born at the second chance at life, Sionnach rose to his feet and retreated back away from the dreaded path. He was expecting to be grabbed any moment but made it to the treeline without the fey moving from his spot.

Sionnach looked back at his savior. He was more grateful than he could express, but all he could do was bark out his gratitude before retreating back into the forest.

-

Eric watched the poor little fox retreat into the treeline. He'd come across the thing with its head stuck in a bottle. It had been too tired to escape, so he'd taken the chance to pull the bottle off and free the little guy.

Even then, the fox didn't get up and run away like it should have. With a sinking feeling, Eric rummaged through his backpack, looking for his half-drunken plastic water bottle. Not having a cup, he folded a sheet of paper into a makeshift bowl and filled it with water.

When the fox first began to drink, Erik noted how weak he seemed, but eventually, the little animal seemed to regain his strength, and it brought a smile to his face.

Right then, the fox darted away. While Eric was sad to see him go so soon, he was happy to see it feeling so much better. Once it got to the treeline, the fox looked back and let out the cutest little yip before disappearing.

As Eric cleaned up the mess and continued walking home from school, he did so with pride, knowing he'd made the world a little better for at least one little creature.