Mercatus

Sam considered herself a rather average kid. She lived with her mother on a plot of land outside a small town in Oregon, behind which sprawled a wall of trees, several miles deep. The white cottage sat far back from the main road, giving the small family quite a bit of privacy; something Sam's mother preferred.

Sam was also homeschooled. Her mother felt it was for the best and Sam didn't argue; she didn’t much care for the thought of regular school, anyway. It was such a dull place. All they did was sit in a room and learn numbers and reading and science and history. Sam learned that, too, but she also learned things that were much more interesting. Her mother was the best teacher, after all. She trusted her daughter with all her secrets and recipes and Sam could not have felt more proud to be her daughter.

She didn’t brag though; she knew better than to do that. The world outside their plot of land was not always safe, nor was it always so welcoming to those who failed to fit the mold.

Sam spent what free time she had in the woods behind their home, following a well worn path to an ancient oak tree, where she had built a little place to sit up in its boughs, sheltered from the wind and sprinkling rain by its thick leaves. There, Sam studied, read, drew, and played with her toys among its roots. It was a special place, magical and untouched by anyone except her. Not even her mother came out to the tree without good reason, for she knew it was Sam's and all children deserve a place to call their own. A place where they are free to be themselves. As long as she was back before the sun set, her mother would not venture into the grove that Sam had claimed for herself. Sam considered herself to be very fortunate to have a mother who understood the importance of such a place and made sure she never broke her mother’s trust by failing to return before the sun went down.

The evenings were spent cooking together, telling stories over their dinner, doing homework and focusing on more practical lessons. When the moon was high, though, it was time to sleep and Sam would tuck into her bed, nestled happily under an age-worn quilt her great-great-grandmother had crafted many years ago. A kiss on the forehead and a soft goodnight, and Sam was left to dream of her next, rather average day, full of spells and enchantments and brewing potions. Yes, Sam considered themselves to be rather average, for the child of a witch. Rather average, indeed. At least until things became... not quite so average, anymore.

For you see, time passes and nothing ever stays the same. What is normal and expected on every other day eventually fades away as new normals and expectations take their place. What was the average of yesterday, will certainly not be the same average as it had been the day before nor will it be the same the day after tomorrow. So it was, Sam's life was going to change, on her twelfth birthday, on a day that started just as average as the day before but perhaps not as average as the day before even that one had been. After all, birthdays only come once a year, and could hardly be considered quite as mundane as every other day preceding or following in its wake.

Sam woke though, just as she always did, when her alarm clock went off at a quarter past eight. The sun was shining, as hard as it could in the chilly Fall morning, before the clouds would roll in for the Winter and do their best to obscure it for the next several months. A perfect day to revel in what little sunshine this time of year had to bring. Sam couldn't help but feel like perhaps the rays warming her bed were a gift from the sun; a special birthday present. So Sam pushed the window open, and happily thanked the bright ball of light for being out today. Mother stressed the importance of thanking nature for every gift it gave and Sam took that as seriously as she did every other lesson her mother imparted to her.

Next came dressing; jeans and her favorite red sweater. A tattered old witch's hat that had belonged to the same great-great-grandmother was placed on her head, much too large and sagging down over her curly dark hair and obscuring her brown eyes briefly before Sam pushed the brim back. A pair of old trainers, fingers wrapping around the elm wand on her desk, and off she went.

She jumped and ran down the wooden steps and into the kitchen to see the usual morning sight; Abigail, her mother, in front of the stove, making breakfast. Her auburn hair was in a loose braid that fell down to her mid back with an apron around her waist.

"Good morning, dear. Happy birthday!" She chimed, turning to smile at her growing child and Sam happily returned the grin as she slid into her customary seat at the table.

"Morning, Mom! Do you need any help?"

"Not today, Sammy. It's your special day so you just sit tight and enjoy." She told her, grabbing a stack of warm pancakes, a perfect golden brown, and placed them down onto the table with a soft clink. She pushed the hat perched on her daughter’s head back a little further to better see her freckled face.

"Seems like just yesterday this hat didn't fit you, at all," she mused with a soft smile before returning to the stove to flip the bacon, which sizzled loudly in the pan.

"It still kinda doesn't… " Sam pointed out with a shrug, smothering her pancakes in strawberry syrup and shoveling a bite into her mouth. Abigail joined her at the table, making her own plate and passing Sam some bacon, which she took happily.

"I bet you're excited for your present, hmm?" A question that was always sure to snag the attention of any child, no matter what they were currently engrossed in.

"Yeah! Can I open it now?" Sam asked, leaning forward in her seat as a wrapped package was placed on the table by her plate.

"Of course, you can," her mother laughed. Permission given, the package was quickly snatched up and torn open. A soft leather bag was gently placed within the box, much like the one her mother used. Big enough to carry her books, with a special holder for her wand and a detachable pouch for collecting herbs. 'Sam' was embossed on the front flap in bright green.

"Wow… mom, it's perfect, I love it!" Sam gushed, leaping from her chair and throwing her arms around her mother joyfully. "I can't wait to use it!" Abigail couldn’t help but laugh at her child’s excitement, kissing her cheek and pulling away.

"Well, it is the weekend, so why wait? Go on outside and play. Just make sure you're home for lunch, wear a jacket, and see if you can find some chickweed while you're out."

Sam gave her mother a little salute and a wide grin before gathering up her dirty dishes to place in the sink. After, it was a mad dash back upstairs to shove a couple of textbooks, her field guide for identifying plants, and a few other items into her brand new bag. A brown jacket was thrown over her shoulders and then it was time for an adventure!

One that would take Sam's average life and flip it on its head.

The path to the oak tree was well-traveled and well-known; Sam hiked it almost every day. She practically sprinted, though she occasionally stopped to gather something, like a pretty, smooth stone, and place it into her new bag. The winding path made its way through the trees, thinner and widely spaced; the edge of the forest, stragglers behind the herd, gray-blue sky still visible overhead. Soon, the light became mottled, the boughs overhead starting to thicken and close, hiding what lay beneath. At least, until Sam rounded the bend and the clearing came into view. In the middle, her oak tree, ancient and bent, but tall and reaching with long, gnarled roots and branches. Leaping up onto a raised root, Sam carefully walked along it to the great trunk, her arms outstretched to keep her balance.

"Good morning, Tree," she smiled, placing her hands on the trunk once it was within reach and giving it an affectionate pat.

"How are you?" Sam asked as she reached up to the lowest of its branches, pulling herself up. The tree, of course, didn't answer, but the wind rattled its leaves and Sam took it as one.

"That's good! Today's my birthday. Mom got me this awesome bag," Sam told her ancient, silent friend as she climbed up to her preferred spot and nestled into the crook of the oak tree's branches. Another breeze, some more shuffling of the leaves and Sam was certain the old tree was wishing them a happy birthday.

"Thank you, Tree," she grinned as she patted the branch between her legs and tugged a book from her bag; one of her textbooks - Charms and Practical Usage. The title was rather boring, but the contents were very interesting, if educational. Pulling her wand from its special holster in the bag and adjusting the brim of her hat, Sam attempted a few of the demonstrated wand movements. Swish, swish, flick… swish, swish, flick.

Most of Sam's morning was spent that way until she had to return home for lunch where her mother warmed her from the chill of the morning with grilled cheese and tomato soup. While Sam ate, dipping her sandwich into the hot soup, she watched her mother at the counter.

"What did you do this morning, Mom?" She asked between bites as Abigail stirred a small cauldron on the stovetop.

"Hmm? Well, let's see, I got a letter from an old friend, Jeanie, asking that I make her something to help her garden so most of it was spent brewing a Draught of Ever-Grow. California's going through a bit of a drought and potions aren't really her strong suit." She laughed softly as she sprinkled in a pale powder from one of the jars in the cupboard.

"I also wrapped your next gift," she hummed in a sort of singsong tone and turned with a grin, the statement quickly grabbing her daughter’s attention away from her food.

"Another one?" Came the excited question, Sam nearly leaping from her chair as her mother approached with another small package.

"What is it?" she asked as she took the offered parcel, wrapped in simple brown paper.

"Now, it's nothing crazy, so don't get too excited," she chuckled as Sam tore into the paper. "One of them was mine. I got it when I was around your age."

Inside were two leather bound books, one was brand new; a blank journal. The other was old and stuffed full, bits of paper and tabs and even some stems and leaves sprouting from between the pages. Curious, Sam carefully opened the old book first to find page after page of handwritten notes in her mother's curvy handwriting.

"I got a blank journal on my twelfth birthday. I filled it with everything I learned about potions and plants. The usual textbooks are great, but there are things I wrote in here whenever I came across something new or different that wasn't always in the books. Sometimes just observations I made about the plants or potions I was brewing… lots of things like that." She smiled somewhat wistfully.

"I want you to have it, to study, and when you discover something new, or just even thinking of something worth writing down, you can put it in your own journal." She tapped the blank one and Sam grinned widely, hugging both books to her chest.

"I'll take good care of it, I promise! Thank you!" Sam gushed, the books landing on the table as she wrapped her arms around her mother instead.

"I know you will, Sam," was returned before the embrace was ended and Sam was being shooed back out to play with a reminder about the chickweed and the books carefully tucked into her new bag, before she made her way back along that same, familiar path.

The afternoon was spent largely the same way her morning had been; reading, writing a few notes down in her new journal and thumbing through her mother's book. Occasionally, she took a break to play with a couple of action figures she kept stashed in the trunk of the tree and read some of her comic books that she also kept there, kept dry with magic...and plastic covers, just in case.

Time was passing quickly and before Sam realized it, it was starting to get dark. It was only as she was packing up her bag that she remembered her mother’s request to gather more chickweed. Sam stalled on the edge of the path. Should she go home and admit she forgot? Her mother hadn't asked for much today and Sam didn't feel like letting her down. Besides, it was only chickweed. Sam was certain she could find some quickly and make it back before too late.

Decision made, she leapt off the path and into the brush. There was a spot she usually collected from not too far from here, at least. It’s only a few minutes, Sam reassured herself as she crouched down to find some of the low-growing plant, but it was growing darker by the minute and Sam was having trouble seeing. Pulling her wand from the holster of her bag, she gave it a wave.

"Lustro." She murmured and the tip glowed softly. Much better, Sam nodded. It didn't take much longer for her to find the plant and she quickly started picking, tucking leaves and flowers into the herb pouch. A faint hum and a soft sigh made her pause, however.

"Hello?" Sam straightened and lifted her wand high to throw light upon the underbrush. There was nothing there. She slowly turned, hearing another hum and sigh, a melodic note almost drowned out by the cawing of a nearby crow. Spinning again, she saw it: a faint light, hovering, like a candle flame. Sam’s jaw fell, eyes lighting up in excitement.

"A wisp!" She murmured softly, not wanting to scare it off. She took a half-step closer and it vanished as suddenly as it arrived. Sam's smile slipped off, disappointed. Sighing, she bent over and resumed picking plants until she heard it once more. Glancing up, she saw another wisp, hovering just a few feet away. She straightened up slowly, and this time, it didn't move. One step, and it was gone, but it reappeared almost immediately and it did it once more, when Sam took another step forward.

Awed, Sam followed it, the little blue flame moving a little further away with each step she took, but always remaining in sight. Suddenly, it started darting away much more quickly, in a rapid succession of disappearing and reappearing. Startled, but not willing to let it go just yet, Sam bolted after it, her trainers thudding and snapping through the brush, her pulse racing in her ears and her lungs gasping for air as she leapt over a log.

"Wait, come back!" She called out, the wisp still outpacing her, but straight ahead, moving through the fog that had begun to roll in, already thick in this part of the forest. So thick, that as the wisp moved further still, staying level with top of the mist, Sam lost her footing on an unseen root and tumbled, head over heels, down a short, but steep hill. The wisp had moved into open air and the fog had prevented Sam from seeing the cliff until it was too late.

She lay in a crumpled heap, the light from her wand snuffed out during the fall. Sam slowly pushed herself up, whimpering softly in pain as her ankle throbbed and ached.

"Please don't be broken," she hissed, gingerly pulling up her pant leg to feel it and found it already swelling. Sniffling, Sam looked around to see that she was alone, the wisp gone and leaving Sam with no idea where she was. It was dark and clouds were rolling in, obscuring what moonlight made it through the leaves.

This was bad. Grabbing her hat from the ground, she struggled to her feet, choking back a pained gasp. She didn't make it far before she was back on the ground, ankle throbbing. Hissing, Sam decided to look for her wand before trying again, only to cry out in dismay when she found it a few feet away from where she’d landed, snapped in half, the top dangling by a splinter.

A wet 'pap' sounded against her hand, startling her from dwelling on her dilemma for a moment. Another on the ground next to her, another, another, and then the sound of rain in the treetops. Sprinklings slipping passed the leaves to soak Sam and the forest floor. Shoulders sagging and tears welling in her dark eyes, she struggled up again, using a nearby tree for support, and limped off in search of shelter.

Not too far from where she tumbled, there was a small overhang, and she quickly tucked herself as tightly under it as she could, hugging her bag close and drawing her knees up to her chest as she lamented her misfortune. Why hadn’t she picked the chickweed earlier? Why hadn’t she just gone home and admit she’d forgotten? Why did she follow the wisp? 

Sam also couldn’t help but reflect on a day, a few months before, when her mother had questioned whether or not she’d wanted a phone for her birthday.

“No thanks, I don’t think I really need one,” Sam had said then, shrugging and going back to shucking corn for dinner. After all, they could easily communicate so long as they had water and a wand. The second of which Sam no longer had.

“I could’ve just gotten a flip phone. It didn’t have to be anything fancy,” she mumbled. It was getting cold and she didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there. It was still dark as could be, and the rain was only coming down harder as the wind shook the branches high in the trees. She could only hope her mother was looking for her. No, Sam was certain she was, and it only made the guilt she was feeling at not just going home worse.

Tucking her hands into her sleeves, she tried to draw herself up tighter, hold the heat in longer, but it wasn’t doing any good as the night went on and got colder. Somewhere, out in the dark, a twig snapped and Sam whimpered fearfully, dark eyes brimming with more tears. She was wet, cold, hurt and scared.

“Mom,” she cried, her shoulders shaking as tears rolled down her cheeks, flushed with the chill of the Fall night. As it went on, she tried calling out a few times, but she was never answered. She was too afraid to sleep, though. The once cheerful forest that she had felt so at home in now felt foreign and dangerous. Each rustle of the brush or cry of an animal had her heart racing.

As the sky around her began to lighten, pale gray in the morning and still thick with fog, her eyelids finally began to drag downward, too heavy to remain open any longer.  Her head slumped forward onto her bag, propped on her knees, as she shivered in her damp clothes. 

“...mom…” she whimpered, one last time, as the edges of her vision began to blur, “...mom, I’m scared…”

And there was nothing but the soft chirping of morning birds to answer her.

Nothing but that...and a strange, blue light that appeared. The wisp? she thought, slowly lifting her head. It hovered just a foot away from her face, flickering in the dull light of morning. Sam slowly lifted a hand and wiped her sleeve over her nose, sniffling as she stared at it.

“...this is all your fault,” she finally groused, voice hoarse from the cold and her tears. Still, she reached out her hand, slowly, until the little ball of blue flame was cupped in her palm. It didn’t burn and, in fact, felt almost cold to the touch.

“Why are you here?” Sam asked, dropping her chin back onto her bag, eyes half-lidded. In the distance, she could almost hear something. “Do you think it was funny...making me fall like that?” Her voice grew softer, sleep encroaching once more and her hand fell back into her lap. The almost sound was closer, but she was far too tired to make it out.

“...’cause it wasn’t….” She mumbled, lids falling shut as the wisp danced around her head before vanishing.

“Sam!” 

Sam didn’t wake to her mother’s desperate call, nor did she stir when her mother furiously checked her over, pressing her hand against her forehead and brushing her damp bangs back up under the pointed old hat. Abigail hastily pulled out her wand, a swishy maple piece, and twirled it over her exhausted, injured daughter.

“Adveho,” Abigail spoke authoritatively, willing her magic through her wand to lift her daughter with more ease than she could have done physically. It was a trek to make it out of the woods, but one she made gladly, now that she knew that Sam was safe. She’d been out all night looking for her daughter. She’d attempted to use her wand several times throughout the night, but all the finding spell had done was lead her in circles. Abigail couldn’t explain it… but the forest was old and many things lived there. Perhaps something had kept her away from her daughter, though she wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t something to dwell on, though. Not now. Sam was feverish and one of her ankles was swollen and bruised. Now was the time to take her home, tuck her into bed, and tend to her injuries.

Sam spent the rest of the day following her birthday in bed, deep asleep, and didn’t wake until the late evening, well after the sun had set once more. She sat up slowly, coughing to clear the congestion in her lungs as her mother appeared in the doorway, carrying a steaming mug, and sighed in relief.

“Oh, thank goodness, you’re up. How are you feeling, sweetie?”

“Horrible,” Sam croaked, sniffling. “How’d I get home?”

“I found you. What happened, Sam? You had me worried sick!” Her mother scolded and Sam sank back down into her pillows, ashamed.

“M’sorry, mom…. I forgot the chickweed. And then, I saw a wisp and I followed it, but I tripped and fell down a hill and my wand broke and -”

“What? Your wand? Sam!” Sam wished she could be swallowed up by her mattress, her eyes watering.

“I had it in my hand… it broke when I fell down the hill. I’m really sorry, mom.” Her mother sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, placing the mug on the nightstand.

“It’s fine. Don’t go running off in the dark like that again, though. The woods are dangerous at night. Here, drink this. It’ll take care of the fever. I’ve already mended your ankle but I want you on bed rest for another day, you hear me? And you’re grounded for a week for scaring me like that.” 

Sam pouted, but couldn’t argue; she knew she’d messed up. Sitting up once more, she took the mug and sipped it, grimacing at the bitter potion on her tongue but drinking it all.

“What are we going to do about my wand?”

“I suppose we’ll have to go to the Mercatus next weekend.” That had Sam perking up a little.

“The Mercatus? Really?” 

The Mercatus, somewhat casually referred to as the Witch Market, was a magically shielded fair that had everything the modern witch, mage, wizard or warlock could possibly need. It was massive, exotic, magical and amazing! And also dangerous. You never knew who, or what, you might find there. It was as mysterious as it was convenient and Sam had only been there once, when she was much younger, to pick out her first wand. Most of what her mother needed could be found locally and most of Sam’s textbooks had once belonged to her father, who had passed away when she was very little. All in all, they really hadn’t had much need to visit the place in these last few years.

“Well, we could always try making one ourselves, but wand making was more your grandfather’s thing and I never really picked it up. I’d feel better getting you one made by a professional,” Abigail hummed and brushed Sam’s hair back with a smile while taking the empty mug. “You rest up now. Once your grounding is over, we’ll go to the Mercatus.”

Sam nodded, settling back under the old quilt as her mother doused the light and left her to sleep. 

Under the bed, out of sight, a little blue flame flickered.

Sam woke the next morning feeling much better. Physically, at least. Her wand was still ruined and the mood in the air was somewhat tense. Abigail was clearly still upset by her running off and breakfast was quiet as Sam poked at her eggs.

Finally, her mother broke the silence. 

“I need to run into town today. I want you to scrub out my cauldron before I get back. The dishes need to be washed, too.”

“Sure, mom,” Sam agreed, despite a well-established hatred of doing the dishes. But she was eager to make things right with her mom and, hopefully, doing her chores without complaint would help with that. Her mom smiled somewhat as she stood, plate in hand, and kissed the top of her head.

“Thank you, dear. And remember, you’re grounded, so no leaving the house. After your chores, do some reading.”

“Charms?”

“Alchemy, today. We can work more on charms once you’ve got a new wand.” Sam groaned at that, resting her chin on her hand. She wasn’t very fond of Alchemy… it had a lot of math and complicated equations to determine the equity of various matters and metals… but her mother was right; you really need a wand for charm work.

“Okay…”

Sam finished up her breakfast while her mother pulled on a coat, waving towards the door when she called out a goodbye and another reminder to stay inside. 

After breakfast, begrudgingly, Sam started her chores. The dishes didn’t take too long but Sam still hated them. Especially when little bits of food got left on them and they got all soggy and gross. She couldn’t even wear gloves because they were too big. 

“Blech,” Sam groused, a squishy piece of what she thought might be bread touching her hand as she rinsed off another plate. 

She finished washing the dishes and her mother’s cauldron considerably more damp than when she started. Spoons were the worst… Grumbling, she stomped up to her room to change into a dry shirt. Did she really need a new one, though? She wasn’t going anywhere… Sam shrugged and rooted around her room, picking up a shirt here and there from the floor and giving it a sniff before discarding it. 

A splash of purple caught her eye from part way under the bed. Dropping onto her knees, she reached for it and performed another sniff test. Satisfied this time, she went to stand, when she saw it. Glowing faintly, floating under her bed, was the wisp.

This time, though, Sam was far less impressed. 

“What are you doing here? Shoo!” She reached under the bed, flapping her hand at the little ball of light. It danced around her finger tips and then shot towards her, startling her back onto her rear, and bounced around her room.

“Hey! Stop that! Get out!” Sam hollered as she leapt to her feet, swinging her shirt at the glowing ball. It once more dashed out of reach, hovering in the upper corner of her ceiling.

“This is all your fault, you know.” She finally snapped, glaring up at the spirit. “You got me lost and in trouble! And my wand broke, too!” Sam dropped onto her bed, arms folding angrily. She knew that she shouldn’t be rude to spirits...but it was hard not to be upset. 

The wisp didn’t answer back, it just continued to float there silently.

“Ugh, whatever, just leave me alone,” Sam snapped and climbed off her bed, grabbing her Alchemy book before storming out of her room. Mom would just have to help her get rid of it, later.

Though, she definitely couldn’t change her shirt with that dumb fireball in her room. What if it could like...see her? So Sam ducked into the bathroom to change before heading down to the living room. Dropping onto the couch, she cracked open her book with a huff to read.

At least, she tried until she got that creeping feeling...of something watching her. Sam slowly lifted her gaze, glaring over the top of her book to see the flickering ball of light floating a few feet away.

“Ugh, seriously?” She let the book fall into her lap as she folded her arms over her chest once more.

“What do you even want? I’m not gonna follow you again.” 

“...” The wisp didn’t answer...again...and Sam was definitely over it.

“Go away! Don’t you know I’m like… a super powerful witch? I can banish you like ‘that’!” She snapped her fingers at the spirit. “So shoo!”

Silence followed her proclamation...and then the wisp began to flicker and brighten, a soft humming laughter coming from it as it shifted and grew, the flames spreading and taking shape.

Sam jumped up, over the back of the couch, with a shriek. Whatever was happening, she didn’t know, and with her wand broken, she had nothing to defend herself with. Should she make a run for the house phone? Surely her mother would have an answer. Or should she just make for the door and face her mother’s fury at having left the house at a later time. 

She didn’t get the chance to decide, or rather, she was distracted from mulling over her options by a giggle.

“My, my, quite the agile little human, aren’t you?” Came a soft, almost childlike voice that chimed like bells. Slowly, Sam rose from her crouched position on the floor and peered over the top of the cushions. Floating where the wisp had once been, was a child, not much older than her. Or, not a child, not really. They had a young face, but the furry pointed ears over their head, peeking through black hair, and fluffy long black tail - much like a fox’s - waved behind their back. They even had paws, down where their feet should be. Their bright blue eyes matched the flame that had been there previously.

“....you’re not a wisp.” Sam gasped, creeping from behind the couch.

“I don’t recall ever saying I was.” The spirit touched down lightly, cocking their head with a mischievous grin. Sam scowled, hands curling into fists.

“You got me in trouble and broke my wand!” She accused them once more. Now that she knew they could speak, she was determined to get an answer.

“Mmm, no, you did that yourself,” they laughed again as they wandered over to a bookshelf, bright blue eyes scanning along the covers.

“...if you’re not a wisp, what are you, then?” 

“That’s a rather rude question, don’t you think? I’m quite obviously a fairy.”

“I’ve never heard of a fairy with fox ears and paws.”

“And I’ve never met a human so intent on being rude. I happen to like foxes. I don’t see why that’s a problem.” They turn to grin at her again, teeth gleaming and sharp. Sam frowned at the creature, brow furrowing.

“What do you want, anyway? Why are you here?”

“Because I want to be,” was the cryptic answer, the canid fairy lifting back up into the air and reclining with their arms behind their head. “You’re called Sam, right?”

Sam didn’t answer, eyeing the spirit suspiciously. She knew that giving such a creature her name so easily wasn’t a good idea. The fairy laughed at her silence.

“You’re smarter than you look. I like you, Sam. I think I’m gonna stick around a bit.”

“Why?”

“I’ve already said,” they bared their teeth in what Sam would come to know as their characteristically unsettling smile. It wasn’t malicious, per se. But it wasn’t entirely kind or filled with joy, either. 

“I guess,” Sam acknowledged reluctantly. “...you know my name. What’s yours?” 

“Oh, Sammy, I thought you were smart. That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

“Well, what am I supposed to tell my mom when she gets home? That there’s a fairy in the house? She’ll take it a lot better if she at least knows your name.”

The fairy tutted, clicking their tongue.

“Sam, Sam, Sam… your mother will never know I’m here, unless you say something. You’re the only one who can see or hear me.”

“What? Why?”

“For reasons.” Was the frustratingly vague reply. Sam threw her head back with a groan.

“So, what? You’re just going to hover around like a creepy imaginary friend?”

The fairy put their hand over their chest, face morphing into an expression of indignation.

“Creepy? Sam, you really need to learn how to talk to people, especially fairy folk. Not many are as forgiving as I am.” Their indignation is apparently short lived...or fake… as they burst into giggles once more.

“Relax, Sammy. I think we’re going to have a lot of fun. Oh, and by the way, happy birthday. Sorry I’m a little late with that.” They winked playfully and vanished with a faint pop of displaced air.

Sam waited a few beats to be sure they were gone before she dropped back onto the couch with a sigh, tugging at her hair. Her wand was broken, she was grounded, and an obnoxious fairy was in her house. One that apparently followed her home...and that her mom wouldn’t be able to see or hear. Great.

Yeah.

Happy freaking birthday.