Copyright © 2008 Joe Miller
All rights reserved, Wild Child Publishing.
My wanderings led me to a little creek. Without memories, I couldn't be sure, but there must be a rule requiring you to play on the rocks any time a small creek is found. The cool, clear water tickled my legs as I waded up to my knees. I stared down, and crystal green eyes in a round cherub-like face stared back at me. With long, slender fingers, I freed a twig I'd missed earlier and let it drift downstream. I wiggled my bushy eyebrows and laughed as the creek made the same faces back at me.
The water became an insistent play-friend...it constantly pushed and murmured, "Hey, go this way." The creek played a simple game of "Find the end of me!" I knew the creek would win, but I played it a while regardless.
My shadow hid from the sun underneath my feet when I spied a stand of bushes that had seen more action than the previous ones. These must be magical bushes, for whenever I ate one of these berries, the leaves rustled louder. With a contented sigh--not unlike the bear's sigh earlier--I felt I had eaten my fill and happened to look...up. In every tree around me, and many in each, pixies sat or stood with uncanny grace and poise. Their skin shimmered, and their wings fluttered. I looked from pixie to pixie, and every one of them had an arrow pointed at my chest!