Eleven
“I’ve always been jealous of faeries’ hair,” Natesa says as she carefully separates three narrow strands of my hair and begins to braid them. “The vibrant colors are so beautiful. I imagine if there were lots of faeries in one room it would be an explosion of color.”
“I guess it makes up for the fact that we wear black all the time,” I say. “Well, guardians, I mean. Not all faeries.”
“Black is boring,” Natesa states. “All reptiscillas have black hair and black eyes. That’s why I tie ribbons in mine, to add some color.”
“I noticed,” I say with a smile.
I’m sitting cross-legged on Natesa’s bed in front of her. I came in just now to pick up my new white cloak and told her, once again, how pretty her hair looks in braids and ribbons. She somehow manages to do it in a different styl
