Shenrah’s tiny fingers combed the tangled, black hair away from her pointed ears. Brown eyes searched the leaves and flowers until she found enough morning dew for a bath. Afterwards her soft, green wings flexed and spread, fanning her dry.

She was one of the young fairies of Gleth Forest. They slept in beds of vining ivy and awoke each day to leaf carpeted branches covered with flowers. High above the forest floor they were safe from the Barthdread, a hideous, furry beast that considered fairies to be a delicacy. There was a time when the fairies danced and sang. Every day was a holiday. Now everything was different. Shenrah knew why but she told no one.
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