Ralph and the Pixie

Deborah nodded, on the verge of sleep once more. ‘That’s what I remember when I wake up. It’s inside me now . . . or maybe it always was . . . or what I’ll be . . .’

Theuli paused. She held the last spoonful of broth poised to place in Deborah’s mouth, but the girl had fallen asleep. Theuli watched her for a time, her expression thoughtful. When she put the bowl away and crawled back beneath her own blankets, Ralph whispered, ‘Now I can sleep.’

Theuli, however, was long awake in thought.

They made better progress the next day. The snow had stopped during the night, and the sun showed faintly behind a thin layer of grey cloud. Deborah was awake and alert the next morning, and found herself staring about in rapt wonder, surprised to find herself back in the wagon, instead of the tent where she had fallen asleep. The wagon’s cover, though raised, was open front and back.

‘Good morning, sleepyhead,’ said Malina. ‘You missed breakfast, but we saved you some.’

Sitting up, Deborah found she had been dressed in a long surplice. It was very warm and luxurious to the touch. Feeling the texture of the soft fur with undisguised pleasure, she said, ‘Where did I get this?’