The Keeper And The Firefly (The Year Of The Firefly Book 2) - GeAnn Powers

The Keeper And The Firefly (The Year Of The Firefly Book 2) by GeAnn Powers

Book excerpt

What will I learn today? Ariel wondered.

It was a question the young fairy had asked herself every day for the past month and a half: What will I learn? Oh, what will I learn?

She’d rarely asked that question before. In her fifteen years living in her colony, she couldn’t remember ever waking up excited for the new day. Usually, she’d open her eyes knowing the dawn only brought hunger and dread. But since she’d met Basil…

Oh, Basil! The clever young elf who had risked his life getting her out of a spider’s web and gotten bit himself! She’d rescued him and helped him get home. In exchange, he’d taught her to read. NO ONE in her colony could read. It was forbidden. But SHE knew how. She had to keep that treasure hidden from the others, but oh! What a wonderful treasure to have!

Ariel belonged to a tribe of Fairies. They were tiny folk, only about five to six inches in height, and the whole colony lived together in the abandoned barn on the back corner of the buffalo ranch. Flyers they were: fairies with wings and antenna. But, other than their similarity in size, they were very different than the friends she had met mere weeks ago.

So, what will I learn about today? she wondered again. Ariel rolled over and stared out of the gap between two boards in the wall of the dilapidated old barn. It was still dark outside. Much too early to leave, but oh! She was too excited to go back to sleep! What will I learn today?

Her thoughts drifted to Basil. Basil wasn’t a flyer; he was a hopper who traveled in leaps and bounds instead of flying. That was, until he got bit. He flew a lot now by riding on meadowlarks. Ariel’s colony didn’t know how to tame birds like Basil could. Wonderful Basil who taught her to read and cook and even to make fire! How Ariel LOVED cooked food! Her colony didn’t know how to make fire and they rarely had enough to eat.

The tiny sparrow-sized fairies would scurry to find enough: roadkill mice and birds, small rodents the hunting parties might take down – if they were lucky that day – and the scraps found in the human trash bins behind the farmhouse. That was her colony’s existence. But Basil! Basil and the other elves – most were no bigger than the fairies, but how different their lives were!

Ariel closed her eyes and tried to imagine Basil’s home under the sandstone slab by the river. Labels for each item jumped into her mind: table, chair, dishes, fork, spoon. Fireplace, bed, pillow, quilt, rocking chair, cupboard, closet, clock. And her favorite word of all: book! Six weeks ago, she had no idea what these things were, but now! Now…oh what will I learn today?

Ariel thought about Dill, Basil’s best friend. He was a hopper too. He and Ariel hadn’t liked each other at first, but he’d helped her with her reading too. And he’d taught her how to make something called lasagna.

Basil had other friends: Rosie the gnome was Ariel’s favorite. She was married to a huge tree sprite named Sage. And they all had another friend named Thyme who was a river sprite.

Basil, Dill, Rosie, Sage, and Thyme.

Those were the friends, and they were all medicine men.

No, that wasn’t right. They were healers. No. What was the word? Rapha! They were Rapha! She’d only been away from them for a few hours, and she’d nearly forgotten the word. Rapha, Rapha, Rapha. She said the word over and over again in her mind so she wouldn’t forget it again. They were the Rapha, the doctors for the plains people. His people. Not hers, though. Not for the flyers.

Ariel lay there on the rabbit pelt she and her father shared as a bed. That was one item the two of them owned. Her father had a knife. Ariel had a pocketknife Basil had given her and she kept it hidden in her sash. There was the bead necklace from Basil’s friend Tanner. Her father and she each had a spear. And that was it. That and the hollow cinderblock they called their space was the total of their possessions. And Ariel’s father, SkyKing, was the leader of their colony. Leader of a ragged band of fairies who were so poor they owned little more than the clothes on their backs.

Oh, when will it be morning so I can leave? the princess pleaded to the dark blue sky. She had no friends here. When you were hungry, friendship was a luxury that was too risky. Loyalty could be bought with a chunk of meat and as easily broken for a crumb of bread. But Basil’s friends had fed her well every day. They had plenty of food! And they didn’t dig through garbage. They knew how to cook and store food and there always seemed to be more than enough when they invited her to join their meals.

A streak of violet bordered the horizon. Dawn would finally break soon.

Get out quickly, Ariel reminded herself. It’s easier to slip away without any questions.

The young fairy stealthily rose from the rabbit pelt, careful not to disturb her father. She picked up a scrap of mouse fur and began tying it around her foot. She wished she had real boots, like Basil had. His were leather with soles and boot hoops. They stood up even when no one's feet were in them, much more appealing than the hides Ariel wore, tied to her legs with rawhide strips.

"Where do you go every day?"

Ariel froze immediately. She recognized her father’s voice. The question had been hardly above a whisper, but she’d heard it clearly. Slowly, she resumed tying the laces.

“Ariel?” There was a hint of warning in his voice. He expected an answer.

The girl shrugged.

"I don't go anywhere in particular," she lied. "I just like to go exploring."

"You're gone all the time, Ariel!" her father chastised. "You leave with the sunrise and are not even home for meals! The women are starting to talk. They are beginning to think you’re odd!"

Again, she shrugged. "I don't care what they think. I like being on my own and I can find my own food.” She felt to make sure the pocketknife was hidden in her sash. Every time she felt it, she was reminded of how kind Basil’s friends were and how self-absorbed her own colony was.

“No one really misses me here anyway," she commented.

Her father propped himself up on one elbow and stared at the girl.

"I do," he finally admitted.

Ariel hadn't expected that response. She turned and looked longingly at the flyer leader.

"Do you really, Daddy?" she asked. At times, she missed him.

He scoffed and sat up. “You’re the only one around here I trust.”

Ariel stared at him, open mouthed. He caught her expression and shook his head.

“Look around, Ariel,” he growled in a low voice. “The elders only want to control me; the young men want to replace me. The women are so conditioned by their men they don’t even dare look at me, and the kids fear me. Who does that leave I can talk to?”

She was staring at him again, her eyes so wide she feared they might fall out.

“But…” she stammered. “I’m just a girl. I’m a nobody.”

He nodded and grinned at her.

“And that’s why I trust you.”

Ariel's face fell. So, his trust was only because she was “safe”. Not because she was his daughter. Not because he loved her. Ariel wished she could tell her father about Basil and learning to read, and all the wondrous things she. She longed to trust him and make him a “safe” place to share her secrets. But no, she was learning things that were forbidden. No one was allowed to read, least of all an underaged girl. Her dad, the leader of their colony, would probably be the “unsafest” place of all.

"I wish I could take you with me," she finally said.

"And where is that?"

"Someplace very special, but no one would understand."