Hiding in the bracken with her face cast milky by the moonlight, was a pixie. I can never tell how old they are, for they look like children to me with their slender limbs. From under a sage green cap tumbled auburn curls and her hazel eyes grew wide. I looked away. There is nothing noble is scaring these mythical creatures. They look so human but they don't think like we do. They dance, they sing, they make merry all their days. Wherever they walk they do so in harmony with the spirit of the earth and all creation. Their fear of us comes direct from their intuition. Though we love and create family bonds as they do, our inner natures still hold the violence our ancestors needed to survive in a warring world. When I turn back the spot she had crouched in was empty, though on the springy tu
