Ralph and the Pixie

Ralph had to laugh. ‘I don’t think you’re silly. But you aren’t much more than a child. How old are you?’

She tried counting on her fingers, but soon gave up the attempt, biting her lip and looking downcast at her failure. She appeared so tragic and small that Ralph said kindly, ‘Hey, it isn’t important.’

Her smile was a mixture of shy gratitude, and awe. ‘Did Malina teach you our tongue?’

‘Ware, Ralph,’ interjected Pran, ‘if you encourage her, you’ll never be rid of her. Come, Éha, ride with me for a bit.’ With a delighted smile, the little dark-haired pixie stood and jumped lightly onto Pran’s horse’s withers. He gestured to the saddle before him, and she sat like a happy child as he gave her the reins. The horse ignored her antics, fortunately.

‘Such was Malina,’ said Pran. ‘You can see now why Pixies are mistakenly assumed to be like children. They are playful, energetic, and,’ he chuckled, ‘no end of trouble. But they are not children. Éha, I think you should tell Ralph about bad Pixies.’

‘Rowf!’ She said, laughing, ‘What a funny name!’

‘Éha . . .’ Pran prodded in an admonishing tone.