Rhonda
“Rhonda, would you like to see your grandmother's memorial?” Rosalie asked. She and Thean had spent the past hour or so letting us wander through the kingdom.
“Absolutely,” I said, peeling my eyes from a beautiful sculpture of a naked fairy man with his wings fully extended. “Do you all have wings like that?”
“We do; we just don’t use them much,” Thean said. “It’s much easier to move around on our two feet.”
“Too many midair collisions,” Rosalie said. “I let mine out a few times a week to stretch them.”
“Could we see them?” I asked shyly, unsure if asking would be rude.
“Sure,” Rosalie said, and suddenly there was a whoosh sound as a pair of what looked like soft blue with purple and pink accented butterfly wings appeared on her back.
“Wow,” I gasped. “Those are beautiful!
