I’d wrongly assumed she was a child. She was actually a pretty red-haired girl around my age, though probably half my size. She was quite used to people staring, it seemed, because she did not seem to mind my oafish silence or stunned expression. Instead, she plopped backwards onto the bench across from me, and gave a toothy grin.
“Go ahead and ask,” she said. “I don’t mind.”
“Ask what?” I questioned dumbly.
“People always ask if I’m a fairy,” the girl said. She began to swing her feet, which barely reached the coach’s dirty floor. “Tall people from Tar-ma-rin, anyway. I’ll have you know I’m not even that short, in my village.”
“I wasn’t going to ask that,” I said. I knew that fairies weren’t real. But, looking at this tiny girl, with her delicate features and bright hair, made me wond
