15
It was late afternoon when Max opened his eyes. He remembered the pixie and looked over to find the pillow empty. The window was open and he figured she'd flown away, but when he sat up, the pixie was there fluttering in front of him.
“I'm glad you're okay,” he said, softly. The pixie smiled at him. “Your wings have lost their color. Will it come back?” The pixie lifted a wing and shook her head. What would happen if he used magic on her? The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her, but she looked so sad standing in the middle of his palm stroking her wings. He closed his eyes and pictured the brilliant colors he'd seen up in the oak tree at Pleasant Seas. Then he pictured Arabelle with her bright purple and pink-streaked wings. Heat spread across his chest and through his fingers to
