Chapter 1: Activity at the Manor

The air was cool, penetrating the layer of fur on Virna’s exposed legs and arms, but she remained crouched on the damp sod underneath the large fern. Through the green fronds, she saw the wide expanse of neatly trimmed lawn that stretched from the dark woods to the large stone building at the top of the little hill.

The manor had been abandoned for decades, and it was the favorite place for the sprites¹ to play – even though they were not supposed to go anywhere near the place. The gardens were wildly overgrown, the old halls dusty and forlorn, and the walls filled with wonderful cracks, crevices, and holes to play hide and seek in.

“This is all wrong,” Virna whispered to herself.

Something had recently trimmed the garden and cut the towering sea of grass down to Virna’s waist. From beneath the fern, she could see all the way up to the manor, something she could never do before while grounded. She felt a tug at her skirt, and the sprite1’s large ears twitched.

“Virna, I have a bad feeling,” Orry said. His eyes were wide with fear, and he had drapped his wings about him like a cloak.

“We should go home,” Yola, his younger sister, murmured timidly.

“Fine.” Virna sighed.

Orry unfurled his wings, the thin transluscent membrane shimmering slightly in the damp air, and let out a whistle. The row of ferns shook as thirteen other sprites left their hiding places and joined Orry.

“We are leaving,” the young sprite said authoritatively.

Everyone nodded in agreement. He took ahold of his sister’s chubby hand, and the whole group quickly darted back into the woods.

Virna hestiated, pulling one of the fronds down to give the old manor one last look. As she was about to turn away, her eyes caught movement in the grass. A shadow was slinking towards the far corner of the garden where the ferns grew. It approached slowly, crouching low to the ground. A strong scent assaulted Virna’s sensitive nose, a horrid mixture of foreign smells she could not distinguish. Then her eyes saw a long tail the size of a sturdy branch flicker in the air.

Suddenly, the giant shadow sprang at her.

With a laugh, Virna took flight, easily dodging the outstretched paws. She noticed the creature’s paws were armed with sharp claws the size of her own arm. The shadow was a carnivorous animal, though nothing like a fox. His yellows eyes with narrow pupils followed her as she darted higher to put distance between them. The animal sat and curled its tail about its hindlegs, regaining his composure quickly.

Virna looked him over, noticing from the gleam of his black fur how clean and groomed he was. His body was lean and muscular, so clearly he had not pounced on her with the intention of hunting for his next meal. So why did he attack? Virna had an odd feeling she should know what type of animal it was—she should have paid closer attention to Old Kyne’s lectures.

“What are you?” Virna asked curiously.

At first, he made no reply. The tip of his tail moved up and down slowly as his strange eyes examined her. Finally, with a deep throated purr, he casually commented: “You are no dragonfly.”

Virna laughed again, somersaulting in the air twice before righting herself. Her thin wings, very much like a dragonfly’s, hummed as they beat the air.

“Certainly not! I am a faerie of the Prynn folk. My name is Virna. Virna Prynn. And you?”

“You may call me Dandelion,” the creature said slowly. “I am a noble feline.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Dandelion,” Virna said formally but with a smile.

Now she remembered!

Old Kyne had mentioned the creatures called cats: they were excellent hunters, as cunning as a fox, and egotistical. Their kind was neither friend nor foe of the faefolk. Old Kyne had warned that there were typically three kinds of cats: the large cats who were aloof masters of the woods (but no threat to the faefolk), the feral cats who were ferocious and highly terrorial (so it was best to stay away), and the housecats who were pampered by the humans they live with (they were quite independent creatures and made alliances individually).

This Dandelion seemed decent enough, and Virna was usually a very good judge of character.

In a show of trust, she landed softly on the branch of an azalea bush and drapped her wings about her. She was still out of the cat’s reach even if he leaped, so she felt quite relaxed.

“So what is a housecat like you doing at the old manor?” she asked. She tucked a loose lock of ragged hair behind her large, floppy ears.

“My pet recently purchased this place of residence,” Dandelion replied indifferently. “This is my home now.”

“Oh,” Virna said sadly. She glanced up at the old manor, looming gray and silent as always, and sighed. “So it’s just you and your pet?”

“Yes.”

“You must get lonely.”

“No.”

“Not even a little?”

The cat made a grumbling sound. “No.”

Virna cocked her head to one side and planted her chubby hands on her hips, brow furled in disbelief.

“So what will you do all day and all night if you are alone?”

“That is my business.”

The sprite’s wings sprung out for balance as she leaned precariously forward over the branch. “May I ask you a question?” The cat did not respond. “Why did you attack me?”

Dandelion raised one of his forepaws and began examining the pads. Virna gazed down at the smooth black foot and nearly fell from her perch when razor sharp claws suddenly extended. Her wings beat the air twice to steady her, and her sensitive ears caught a soft chuckle from the cat below.

“You are a jumpy little thing,” Dandelion said. He retracted his claws and placed his paw back on the ground. “I was merely testing my skills. Even housecats must constantly train, for you never know when you need the skills of the wild.”

“I see.” Virna stood, her tattered skirt and shaggy bob of tawny hair blowing in a slight breeze. “I’m very happy I met you, Dandelion, but I must be returning home. If the elders find out I have been visiting the old manor or even speaking to a housecat, I would be in big trouble.”

“We cannot be having that,” the cat murmured.

“Maybe we’ll meet again,” the sprite said cheerfully. She jumped off the azalea branch backwards and took flight. “Goodbye, Dandelion.”

She turned and entered into the darkness of the thick woods, leaving the housecat sitting quietly next to the row of ferns. His tail continued to twitch slowly as he followed the adolescent faerie with his eyes. A moment later, he stood, stretched his lean body, and then strolled up the hill towards the manor.

At the base of the northern wing, the oldest part of the ancient edifice, the cat slipped through a narrow crack in the foundation hidden by neatly trimmed boxwoods. The walls were nearly two feet thick and though the crack continued to narrow, the feline slipped easily into a dark hallway.

He silently made his way to an open door and stepped into a study dimly lit by oil lanterns hanging where candle sconces had once been. The single window was tightly shuttered, though four thin beams of sunlight pierced the air from cracks and holes in the aged wood. The room was small but seemed even smaller with floor to ceiling bookshelves on three of the four walls, and the stale smell of old books filled the cat’s nostrils.

Twitching his nose, he gazed at the desk positioned beneath the window and the man sitted there with his face obscured by one of the ancient tomes. The cat almost seemed to pause to roll his eyes before leaping on to the desk. The sudden movement startled the man and he dropped the book on to the floor with a sound that echoed loudly.

“Oh! Danilo, you startled me,” he exclaimed, clearly agitated at being interrupted. Then he relaxed and smiled at the feline. He leaned back in the chair, causing a cloud of dust to raise into the air and dance in the beams of sunlight. “So what news do you bring?”

The black cat sat down, curled his tail about his legs, and stared up with eyes that seemed to flash in the light of the oil lanterns.

“I made contact.”

“Excellent!”

The man suddenly erupted in a fury of activity, searching through the piles of books and papers on the desk for a blank page and something to write with. Finally, with shaking hands, he nodded at the feline.

“It was quite easier than either of us thought. At the edge of the woods along the ferns, I found a faerie of the Prynn folk.”

The man’s brow creased and the pen paused its hasty movements. “Prynn folk? I don’t know of this clan, and I haven’t come across any reference to such a group in all of my readings.” His young face turned eagerly towards his companion. “Tell me more. This might be one of the greatest discoveries in modern—”

Danilo narrowed his eyes, flatted his ears, and wrinkled his nose just enough to show a few pointed teeth. The man’s expression transformed immediately from one of elation to distress.

“I’m sorry... I forgot... I didn’t mean anything. Sorry.” He stammered like a rebuked child, and he averted his eyes to the notes he had been taking of the cat’s encounter with the faerie.

“As you know, all faeries within a family clan have similar features,” the cat continued, his tone softened by a purr. “The one I met was a female adolescent, a sprite, named Virna Prynn. She was only six inches, so adults of her folk may reach seven. Humanoid with short fur covering her whole body, darker on the back and lighter on the front with black markings similar to a leopard’s. Her ears were large and floppy, hanging downward from the same position on the skull as human ears. Her hands and feet were small, even for her size, and stubby.”

“And the wings? What of her wings?” His companion asked excitedly as he scribbled every word down.

“Similar to the wings of dragonflies – no, more like damselflies – only there were six tendrils that protruded from above, between, and below the two sets of wings. I am uncertain if these tendrils actually aid in the flight process or if they are just a characteristic of their kind. She was extremely agile and fast, more so than lepidoptera² fae, and it must be the independent movement of the two sets of wings.”

“I can’t wait to see one of these Prynn faeries myself,” the man said with a broad smile. “Very odd. We would have to create a completely new classification for them. What about... hymoptera³ fae? Do you like it?”

“Marek, you can classify the faeries later,” the cat said calmly after taking a deep breath. “The point is: I spoke with the little sprite. Audacious and inquisitive little thing but kindhearted. She seemed quite comfortable in my presence, and I am positive that on our next encounter, I will be able to glean something useful from her. If the orb is anywhere in this vicinity – and I feel it! – then the faeries would know.”

“But if this one is still a sprite, would she have such knowledge?”

The cat purred thoughtfully to himself for a few minutes before answering. “If she does not know already, then by the end of our next conversation, she will be so curious that she will find out anything we need.”

“Curiosity killed the fae, eh?” Marek chuckled. Danilo’s eyes flashed disapprovingly, and the man shrugged his shoulders. “I was only joking.”

Danilo stood and turned. Before leaping from the desk, he said wearily: “We need this faerie’s assistance, so let us not joke of things that may yet come to pass.” Then he vanished into the darkness of the hallway.