I rush to her side and gently roll her sideways. Her dark red skin is inflamed, flushed with heat and burned from the first real sun exposure she’s seen in more than a decade. Her eyes are closed but her chest rises and falls steadily. “Juniper?” I ask softly.
Nothing.
I hear thumping reverberating in the ground near me. Willow is suddenly beside me, caressing Juniper’s face in a way that’s almost an examination.
“Juniper!” She shakes her gently at first, then more forcefully. “Juniper! Can you hear me? Wake up!”
Still nothing. Willow sighs and lays her back on the ground. She turns to gaze at the meandering pixies and shakes her head. “It’s a wonder they can even remember to shower every night.”
It’s their routine. Get up, eat, work, eat, shower, go to bed. Over and over and over again. Back home, on mornings when I was really sleepy, I found myself traveling from my tree house to the Hollow’s center without even realizing. One minute I was in the tree house, the next I was in the village. Sort of like auto-flight. My mind knew what to do and how to get me there, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember any part of it. I know it’s what these pixies do every day because I’ve done it a few days myself. Their minds are protecting them from the horrors around us because they don’t know how to deal with it.
Willow rises slowly, releasing a sigh along the way. “Watch over her. I’m going to make sure the rest of them get some food and water in them.” I nod my head silently and my eyes follow her over to Holly, who’s already working on tonight’s dinner.
Gee. Maybe we’ll have some fruit and seeds tonight. I almost gag at the thought. Once upon a time I liked them, but that’s when I was free to collect what I wanted, when I wanted. I wonder if the lack of variety in our food is done on purpose. One more simple joy they can take away from us. Flippin’ faeries.
I want to feed Juniper her mash and get some type of nourishment in her, but she just won’t wake. All I can do is keep cool, wet scraps of clothing atop her skin in hopes it’ll cool her down a bit. It scares me how much heat is radiating off her body, even after the sun goes down. I pull her against me in a futile attempt to transfer some of her heat to me.
It’s not easy to fall asleep. My emotions rip me in multiple directions. Anxiety eats at the lining in my stomach, making me feel really queasy, and makes it impossible for my right foot to stop bouncing. Fear is the worst. Hearing the rasp in Juniper’s chest tells me she’s having difficulty breathing. I’m deathly afraid she’ll never wake again. I lay on my side with Juniper in my arms, letting the dancing stars distract me until I drift off into unconsciousness.
I awake in the middle of the night, startled. Something doesn’t feel right. Juniper’s body is still pressing into mine, her head resting upon my chest. I feel her forehead – still warm to the touch. I gasp and hold my breath the moment I suspect, my heart speeding along as if I just flew ten miles in fear.
Juniper’s body no longer rises with each breath. Her neck no longer pulsates. A strange noise escapes my throat: a mixture of moaning, crying and screeching. In what feels like the longest gasp in my life, my lungs forget how to exhale. Fluid builds behind my eyes and stings as it tries to seep through.
I scream. Really scream. But it comes out raspy and rough, and in bursts since my chest is spasming at the same time. I don’t care who hears me, or if the spriggans come for me. I just don’t care. She was such a sweetheart. She loved and cared for me when no one else did. She genuinely worried for my safety. And she had this way of simply touching my arm or rubbing my head and making me feel like everything was going to be okay. She had the power to make me believe I could get through this. That I was strong.
That I was loved.
And now she’s gone. The one good thing in my life right now is gone.
I don’t know when Willow appeared beside me, but now she sits beside us on her knees, her body convulsing as much as mine. I roll Juniper’s body softly to the ground and join her hands across her stomach. We each take up a respective side to mourn, lying our heads on her shoulders. I gently caress Juniper’s hand and Willow surprises me by joining hers with mine. They’re cool and shaky, her skin rough and scratchy like mine. I guess I never realized how close Willow was to Juniper as well. I knew they conversed and that Willow was expected to take over, but I guess I never really thought their relationship went beyond that. Maybe Willow saw Juniper as a motherly presence too.
We huddle together until the tears run dry and our bodies calm.
Finally Willow rises. It kills her to say what we both know must be done. “Help me move her to the edge?”
I nod and slowly rise to my feet. I feel utterly exhausted, both physically and emotionally, but I find the strength to lift Juniper and carry her to the edge of the pit. To the spot I’ve slept in every night but this one. To the spot where I watched in horror as a pixie took her own life. Now to be the spot where I say goodbye to a pixie that I barely knew but loved with all my heart nonetheless.
We lay her gently before the edge and kneel down to say our private goodbyes. Somehow my body produces more tears and they begin pouring again. I wipe my nose and sweep the tears off my cheeks and eyes so I can see Juniper clearly. I ask Willow to lift her shoulders off the ground and she does so without contesting or questioning. I unwrap her bun and let her long brown hair with silvery streaks flow free over her shoulders. Free like Juniper’s soul now. Free to fly. Free to be. Free to play with Mimosa again. For the first time ever her stress lines have softened, her skin no longer taut with frustration and worry. I’m finally beginning to believe this was the face of a pixie in her thirties, and not the decrepit, malnourished version I saw wasting away these past many weeks.
“Normally we would take the clothing off the pixie at this point. Add it to the scrap pile.” Willow looks to her mangled two-piece, then to Juniper’s one-piece made of multiple scraps of decent material. We still have some scraps that can be used for whoever needs them. I just used some during the night to cool Juniper’s skin with. Lot of good that did. And most of these pixies are so out of it they wouldn’t realize they were indecent at all if we didn’t keep an eye on their clothing for them. I can tell Willow’s having a hard time debating what to do about Juniper’s scraps.
“I know we need the material and I know Juniper would want us to do what’s best for those still alive, but I’d rather walk na**d than strip her of what dignity she has left,” she says.
I look to my own two-piece. Upon seeing the so-called clothing around my fellow prisoners, I’d been very careful not to snag the material wrapped around me. But try as I have, the material is still thinning. Soon I’ll need to dip into the scraps myself, so I understand the urge she feels to collect Juniper’s clothing. It’s no longer of use to her and makes a world of difference to us. But still, she was our mother and I feel it disrespectful as well.
“Why don’t we just take from the middle then? Turn her one-piece into a two-piece. We’ll get a few pieces and keep her clothed at the same time.”
Willow’s eyes light up and for the first time ever, looks to me with a smile on her face. You know, she’s actually very pretty when she smiles. “I like that idea. She was right to choose you as a leader.”
I return the smile and try not to cry over her kind words. It’s something Juniper would have said to me. And it makes me realize for the first time that Willow was fit to be both controlling and caring.
We quickly untie the knots around Juniper’s midsection. Luckily the one piece is skin-tight so its integrity doesn’t weaken when we remove the middle section. When we’re done we have enough material to settle our nerves.
“Are you ready?” she asks wearily, unable to stop looking at the frail body before us. “We should do it before anyone else sees. They’ll realize she’s gone, but something about seeing the body being dropped off the cliff makes their condition worse. Traumatizes them even more.”
I nod in agreement. Watching that pixie commit suicide certainly damaged me a little. That vision still haunts me when I close my eyes.
We stand and gently lift Juniper into a sitting position and carefully nudge her legs over the edge. Below us is the river. I know she’ll fall directly into it. Just like that other pixie. I wonder where they go? Do they float wherever the current takes them? Or do they sink and the river keeps them right where they land? I shudder to think the latter and pray for the former. Juniper’s finally free again. I know her soul has left this place, but I want her body to do so too.
“Goodbye, Juniper,” Willow whispers.
“May Mother Nature take care of you as well as you took care of us,” I add.
Without another word or a glance in either direction, we lift Juniper’s body over the edge. She slips easily in my hands. As much as I’ll miss her, I’m happy to know she’s out of here for good. No more hunger. No more heat exhaustion. No more slavery.
Just a soul free to dance playfully in the wind with her best friend again.
We watch as Juniper hits the water below us. Watching is all we can do; we’re too high to hear the splash. Please float away. Please. But I’ll never know if she did. Try as we do, we’re not close enough to see if something as small as a pixie bobs in the water. We can only hope.
Needless to say, I couldn’t sleep after Juniper’s funeral. I kept worrying about my own mortality. I know I’ve only been here a little more than a month, but I’ve seen what this place can do to you. It wears on you physically and emotionally. Those that don’t learn to deal end up locked within their mind, completely numb and void of life. None of them deserve this life. To feel like the world has abandoned them.
Why can’t our existence be like the stars? Happily twinkling and dancing in the night sky, bringing light and entertainment to all who see? The stars make everyone ponder unanswered questions, makes everyone smile. And no matter who you are, where you are or what you’ve done, they’re always there for you. No matter what.
I envy those stars, and I watch them until the night fades, then replaced first by morning twilight, and finally, dawn. The indigo sky lightens and a few wispy cirrus clouds high in the sky begin to turn a pinkish orange.
It’s when I’m studying the sky that I notice it. A ripple in the glamour. I’ve always known it was there; I feel it each time I pass through the magical layer. But something never occurred to me before. I jump to my feet and peek over the edge of the pit. A sense of revelation pulses through my body and my heart quickens at the thought. I extend my arm as far down the cliff as I can and feel the magical ripple against my fingertips, tingling my skin like when I pass through the illusion covering our pit.
What if?
I rush to Willow’s part of the pit, where I see she’s still sleeping. All the pixies are up and about already, eating their share of breakfast. I guess Holly took the lead and left us to sleep. I’m sure it didn’t take her long to realize Juniper’s body was no longer with us. She tries to hand me a bowl of mash as I rush by, a sense of forlorn apparent on her features, but I disregard her completely on my way to Willow.
“Willow!” I shake her a little harder than I probably should have, but I can’t help it. “Willow!”
She stirs groggily but quickly jumps to her feet in panic. “What?” she bursts, her eyes darting in all directions with panic.
“It’s all an illusion. Just a glamour.”
“What?” she asks, a little annoyed since she’s still expecting some sort of danger to come at her.
“Our surroundings. We’re not living in some desolate wasteland. Look out over the pit. Everywhere you look is lush greenery. Trees are filled with life. Birds, insects, wind! There’s a river just below us. Everything we see in this prison is just an illusion. They’ve glamoured everything we’re exposed to so we’ll think there’s no escaping this place. That trail we take every day? What if you go just far enough through the trees? Eventually you’ll pass right through the glamour like we do with the one covering our pit. There’s a lush forest surrounding us on all sides. I just know it!”
My heart is racing a mile a minute. Willow seems to be processing what I tell her, her eyes darting side to side, expressing the calculations she was reading in her head. She slowly begins to nod her head in agreement. “Yeah, it’s possible.”
“Willow, it’s more than possible. We know these spriggans don’t stay here at night. There’s no reason to since we can’t fly out of the pit to walk away anyway. There’s a world around us to hide in. All we have to do is run.”
“Run? Rosalie, most of these pixies don’t even understand the concept anymore. Sure, we could probably walk them out of here during the night if we could find a way out of the pit, but run? Any pixie not lucid at this point will still be a prisoner by morning’s light. And we can’t just leave them here to fend for themselves. They’ll die.”
She’s right. And I know it. That’s why my chest suddenly feels heavier. As much as I want to be free, I could never do it at their expense. “What if I just run? You stay here and keep the others alive. I’ll run and bring back help.”
“Rosalie, think about what you’re saying. Every day we have like ten spriggans in the area. You’re one pixie. Who can’t fly. You’ll never make it during the day. I’m fine if you want to find a way to escape but you need to do it during the cover of night. If they catch you they’ll throw you back in the hole for an extended period of time. Do you know what happens to those pixies?”