Prologue

When wizards walked the earth, and the world was young, one of the most powerful of them all was a pacifist who lived in the West Country. He wanted peace while tribes made war and there was often danger from beyond the sea

The not-so-young wizard was the most sought-after of magicians such was his fame at solving problems. But the demands of others sucked the fun out of being wise, so when he grew tired and needed escape he sought out the haunts of druids.

The Age of Wizards may have been full of marvels but it was also a time of invasion and conflict. In those troubled days, even druidic meeting places were under threat.

Could Britain really lose her wooded groves?

This possibility vexed the wizard. The last thing he wanted was to become warlike like the rest of his tribe. His peace depended on quiet places as much as his powers depended on his connection with nature.

No longer an “ageless one,” the long delayed years could take effect: most noticeably on his life force! Longevity potions were no longer helpful not now he felt fatigued for the first time in his life.

But just a few moments alone in a sacred grove and the years would fall away from him, until he was like a youth among trees. This was ideal, when he felt weary, near a grove; but was it necessary to go to a grove to feel young again.

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The Wizard had a blessed beginning thanks to his fairy-mother. And although she left her “human marriage” when he was still a boy, she made sure to teach him all she knew of the Art of Imagination.

The wizard saw how the world looked in a twilight state of mind. And just like the fairy people, he saw only the thinnest of veils separated waking from sleeping. Once he knew the world’s secret, he was ready to hear all his mother would tell him.

She taught him the difference between dreams. Small dreams are “commonplace nonsense” and are “quickly forgotten.” “Only big dreams pass through the veil.” And if in future, he never saw her daily, or if sadly, they never saw each other at all, he could still enjoy visions of the realm called Faerie, if he attended to the rarer more revelatory dreams.

“I wish you many such dreams,” she’d said to him. And he knew then that she loved him. Even if she had to return to Faerie.

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He woke, one morning, before the sun. The early warmth and light told him it would be a fine day. However, pleasant the days were now; the year hadn’t yet reached Midsummer! Then days were at their longest. Then, hordes of worshippers would descend on the sacred sites and he would inevitably find his peace disturbed.

He remembered, with longing, how as a boy he was allowed his own space; and rather than watch the sunrise in a crowd of others, he would stand outside the sacred circle, on Salisbury Plain, and enjoy the solstice in his own way. His tribe noticed the resemblance between their future wizard and the famous Heel Stone at Stonehenge: as both boy and stone occupied the point on the horizon where the solstice sun would always rise.

He made a resolution to make the most of the peacefulness now, and was about to go outside to see the sunrise, when he heard a girl’s voice protesting by the entrance to his home. Moments later, she was inside - having almost fallen from the shove that sent her skidding upon his floor. The girl didn’t look Celt or Roman. She introduced herself. Her name was Julie and she was thirteen.

His tribe had found her wandering by the hillfort and on noticing her strange clothes and her confused state; they had thrust her through the entrance of his conical home.

He bade her welcome and offered her some mead. She didn’t like its taste much; but smiled at his kindness, politely putting the drinking horn away from her. She apologised for being in her nightclothes and asked him to pinch her. When he asked her “why,” she said she’d been having lots of dreams and visions lately and this was the last place she expected to be.

“Tell me your story, Julie. And if you tell it well enough, I will know who you are. Make it exciting and inspirational, and as true as the legends I believe. Take your time and when you have finished, I expect to have tasted my finest horn of mead.”

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A Visit to the Dream Garden

She awoke to sunlight, birdsong and a sense of having left somewhere else. Glorious sunshine shone around her; a honey-coloured sun hung in the sky. This, along with her dew-soaked clothes, alerted her to her surroundings: she was once again outdoors!

Julie laughed. “It’s all part of the fun of being a sleepwalker; you never know where you’re going to wake up. Do you? I guess I’m lucky it’s just a hill this time and that it’s the middle of summer.”

She yawned, stretched, and thought of her home in the village.

. “No need to disturb the household. Best to let them sleep a while.”

She must have slept out here all night. But what had happened to her? Though it was common for her to remember her dreams (she rarely troubled to comprehend them).

“My dreams are always so little and ordinary. This time was different. There was nothing little about the dream I remember having last night.”

It was the biggest dream she’d ever had - so big and so bright –she struggled to get a clear view of it all at once.

“Dream pictures remain out of focus. Dream voices are a strain to hear. What’s the point of remembering if I can’t understand?”

It occurred to her that if she started walking her dream would stop eluding her. She got to her feet and began walking for clarity. She went up paths, climbed over gates, and shaded herself beneath trees. After reading various signs (she found interesting) she picked up so much detail about the wildlife and history of the hill, she was convinced she could see the past all around her. But it was on the open-grass hilltop that she met a woman dressed in the clothes of monarchy!

“What are you staring for? I’m not a real Queen. It’s only fancy dress!”

“Of course it’s fancy dress! What do you take me for? But it’s astonishing all the same.”

“There! I’ll put my crown on. That should put you at ease.”

“That’s a splendid crown. I’d love to wear one like that.”

“Maybe I’ll let you, when I’ve finished with it! But first, I’d like to know what you’re doing here. Are you on the way to the hotel? Our little ‘Fairy Ball’ didn’t disturb the village, did it? You haven’t been sent here to complain?”

Julie assured her she hadn’t. And if there had been any disturbance, she’d slept right through it.

“Good. I don’t like complainers. My name’s Maeve, by the way. Don’t be put off by these clothes,” laughed Maeve. “I had so much fun last night; you can’t blame a girl for not wanting it to end.”

Introductions over, Julie asked if she could touch Maeve’s crown and gown. What looked elegant at first glance turned out to be cheap and badly made. Even so, the style of clothing was ageless (like something you would expect in a fairy tale).

Maeve’s boots didn’t go with the rest of her outfit. The shoes she’d been dancing in were back at the hotel. She’d chosen these boots to take her morning walk in; despite the hotel being the first building you come to once you leave the hill.

Maeve informed Julie that she’d come down to the countryside for a big, weekend, conference.

“That’s not nearly as dull as it sounds (although not as much fun as being at a party).”

However, fascinating Maeve and her fairy-tale garments were, Julie’s dream still eluded all sense. Stopping to talk and admire clothes wasn’t likely to make it any clearer.

“I must go! It’s been lovely meeting you. But I must go!”

Maeve stopped her going, “But, wait, you still haven’t told me what are you doing here by yourself?” Then putting on a mock-stern voice Maeve pretended to give away who she really was. “Come answer, child! The Queen of the Fairies commands it!”

Julie could have danced for joy. The truth revealed at last.

“Thank you! Oh, thank you. Thank you, Maeve!”

“So I didn’t frighten you then?”

“No! I know you’re not the Queen of the Fairies. But I saw her. The real one, I did!”

This hill was once the site of an Iron Age fort. The Celts had lived here. Maybe, once, Druids could have dwelt around these parts.

But what of the older inhabitants of this hill, thought Julie. Had it opened yesterday, had they come out of it to dance?

Julie started looking around for marks on the grass.

“Oh, where’s the ring? Their boots must have left a ring?”

Maeve couldn’t help looking. And she looked more than once. She wondered what her fellow academics in the field of psychology would make of her, if she ever owned up to looking for fairy rings. But at this precise moment, she didn’t care about psychology.

“Oh look! There it is!”

“Well spotted, Maeve. We’re in the centre of Their Circle.”

But that’s your footsteps I’m looking at. You must have been going round in circles.”

“But my feet didn’t leave those prints? This matches up with my dream!”

“Does it? How exciting! There’s a lot of truth in dreams. If you share it with me, I’ll try to enlighten you.”

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Julie was not the only visitor to the hill on the night of her dream. At the bottom of the hill, there is a small field that has the most accessible path to the hilltop. There was only one car in the car park by the field that evening. And the owner of that car was dancing in the field to the music of a portable radio. He had just driven from a pub where the clientele was a little too old for him, so he needed to make his own “fun” (even if it was in the outdoors on his own). It was lucky for him that there had been no waking person around to see him (as he was about to be made to look very silly).

It was an extra warm evening and the man had very little on except some beads around his neck, and a pair of y-fronts to preserve his modesty. His denim jacket and jeans, along with his t-shirt, socks, and shoes, lay discarded on the grass. The man was a hard rock fan and he moved his head faster and faster to the very loud music.

The man had not been dancing long when a high-pitched voice interrupted the music to poke fun at him.

“That’s a great way to celebrate Midsummer. But where are your wizard robes? Your hair and beard are not all that long. You must be a most junior magician.”

The man stopped head banging and looked around for the voice. Had someone turned off his radio? And where was the speaker hiding? How dare they suggest his hair length and facial hair made him look like some crazy wizard!

The voice was mostly laughing at him now but when it spoke, it was in a strange language that somehow managed to sound eerie and merry at the same time. The man walked over to the radio. Was there something wrong with its tuning? Had it picked up a prankster channel!

But just before he reached the radio the high-pitched voice cried, “Dance!” and the man’s clothes got up off the ground and started leaping and jigging as they had now somehow become able to celebrate Mid-summer too.

“Go join in the fun!” finished the voice as the man gave chase to his clothes: that had now gone dancing up the path in a merry procession up to the hilltop. If he had looked behind him, he would have seen a wee little man step out of the radio and increase in size until he was four feet in height. This was Puck! Now, Puck never means any serious harm with his mischief, so with an untroubled conscience, he looked up at a cloud and whistled.

The top of the cloud moved in a tossing motion and Puck recognised the mane of his horse Nebula. Raindrops fell from the long flowing mane as the whole horse kicked and shook herself free from the cloud. A snowy horse shape descended to the ground.

Nebula greeted Puck with a snort. “Up to your tricks again? I should have sent the rain earlier to stop you acting the knave.”

“It’s good to be a knave sometimes,” laughed Puck. Hoping that now his voice was lower (and his body larger), the horse would be less inclined to find fault. But Nebula still looked sternly at Puck, making Puck wonder about the horse’s sense of humour.

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“Maybe I’ll leave his radio tuned into fairyland, so that when he comes back for it he’ll have something cool to listen to.” suggested Puck.

“It’s the least you could do. And put a charm on the radio. One that will do him a good turn.”

Puck left his luckiest charm on the radio and was about to climb onto the horse’s back, “But, wait, we can’t leave this hill yet. There’s a sleeper here that I think we should meet.”

“We’re be late, Puck!” urged Nebula. Climb on.”

“What are you afraid of? That when we see this girl we’ll like her and take her with us?”

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They did like the girl, and decided to take her with them, and this is what happened next.

Quickly assuming a chubby, elfin shape, Puck was ready to wake Julie. He didn’t want her completely awake, but she needed to be in a light enough sleep to hear him and understand. A lot of what he said is not for mortal ears, but the gist of it was he was a famous trickster: “A fairy, no less!” Despite having a reputation for mischief that had made it into countless pamphlets and plays, Julie had nothing to fear from him. He was her friend and wanted to take her with him to the most enchanting garden.

“We can’t take your body. That will have to remain on the hill. But your mind can come with us – I’ll link it to mine! Just agree and you’ll be seeing through my eyes, and hearing through my ears. The thoughts of those we encounter will be open to you. We can even share memories!”

Julie agreed. Who wouldn’t?

And for a time she was Puck and Puck was her.

It was the most, mindboggling, dream-experience; and even after they had dropped her back at the hill – to reunite with her body, enough of the link remained so that she could remember it.

Meeting Maeve afterwards was Julie’s good fortune. Maeve helped her make sense of the “Mysterious!” But Julie wasn’t the first person Maeve had helped. Maeve had met other children in the past but Julie alone, had seen her dressed as a fairy!

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Sitting on horseback, Puck inserted his hand inside a cloud and withdrew it holding a bowl. Dipping his face into the bowl he made a succession of slurping noises, before emerging with his face all covered with cream. Licking his lips and turning to his fingers, Puck finished his meal of cream.

“Mind you don’t drip any of that on my coat. Be sensible and save some room for the feast.” The slurping continued so Nebula did too. “Flying to and from the Garden is bad enough. But when you have a fat fairy on your back...”

“I promise not to break your back, old thing. But I won’t be eating. I’m on a mission and I want a word with the Queen!”

The Queen had swapped her carriage for a globe of light. The fairies, astride their horses, formed rings around the globe as if they were in orbit around a planet. The globe floated with the Queen inside. Puck concealed himself on the edge of the ring formation.

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The most wonderful part of the unseen world is the Garden with Many Names. Every plant from every garden exists here. But it grows larger, more abundantly and with more life. The very air in the Garden contains something wholesome. It commands all who breathe it to be free and seek their nature.

Herbs and flowers grow here. Enough to satisfy the wants of every bird, bee, or butterfly, they attract.

Now, the Queen and her subjects are not mindless insects (but tradition can become instinct) and feeling the call to swarm, they had flown to its flowers. Being part of their kingdom, it may seem strange that they did not dwell here on any other day; but in truth, they only gathered here on Midsummer’s Eve.

Happily, for mortals, the most beautiful of Faerie’s many gardens is continuous with the human mind; but we seldom visit it, on any night or day.

During the ride to the Garden, Julie’s self was but the minutest speck; Puck’s mind was so big, she got lost amongst its contents. A multi-coloured explosion of light was Julie’s first distinct experience of the Garden.

Julie re-emerged to find she had fairy senses, and what interested her most was the horses’ manes.

The horses were twinkling their manes! And she saw colours that she could not name.

Julie heard talking while simultaneously sinking into a blissful drowsy state; she was just able to pull herself back from it to stop herself being carried too far under: she intended to be present throughout her dream.

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“Can’t we get closer to her?”

“Nay my neighing friend, I want to stay hidden.”

“Don’t jest with me. We both know you serve the royal court.”

“I served King Oberon and Queen Titania. I was more than a court jester to them. But I don’t expect a horse to remember either of those two.”

“Not true. I remember Titania. She rode my mother to her dances. I haven’t seen her for ages, Puck. Did something happen to her?”

“I wish I knew. It puzzles me how we ended up with Mab as Queen.”

If there had been a contest between the new Queen and the old, Puck would have bet on Titania as the victor.

The ring they were part of was moving now. And within minutes, it had broken up completely. Soon there was no more formation to see. The body they had encircled was gliding downwards now and they followed in its path of descent.

Puck’s words had made Nebula even more eager to be near the Queen. And as soon as a gap appeared - in the mass of bodies all around them - she took them as close to the globe as she dared. They could both see the Queen now and Puck’s “Ho. Ho. Ho.” was far from his lips.

Yes, the Queen had eyes as blue as the sky but Puck had seen bluer eyes in a fairer face. Titania had worn the same crown and the same leaf-berry-shell jewellery; but she had never needed them to show she was Queen.

Inside the globe, the Queen raised a flower to her face, seemingly, to smell it. Somehow, Puck had the impression she was doing something else.

“I wouldn’t eat that,” snorted Nebula. “It’s got a funny colour.”

“Why! It’s a Black Rose!” cried Puck. “And it’s my belief it talks to her and speaks evil!”

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Mab stepped out of the globe and watched as it ascended back into the sky. She knew it would remain there until she needed it again.

The voice inside the Rose was angry. There was some agent in the air more powerful than its words. With the Rose silent, Mab felt as if some part of her was missing. The Queen was feeling the influence of the Garden, its effect on her was like medicine, but what patient likes medicine!

‘Is this what it’s like to be free?’ thought Mab. “Where has the voice gone? Do I want to be free?”

A barrage of sights, sounds, and odours struck her senses and it took a while before they were recognisable. Everything was new and unexpected as she experienced them anew.

Hares had never boxed as madly (as they were doing now). The nightingale had never sung so heart breaking a song (as it was singing now). And the colours on the peacock’s tail had never shone in such a dazzling splendour.

Now, Mab had seen (and heard) all of these things before. She was old enough to have grown weary of them. The Rose understood her emotions, that’s why listening to her was such a dark pleasure. But the Garden was not a wearisome place and it made her feel uncomfortable that she felt so differently here.

Tonight the sensory force of the Garden appeared at its strongest.

Now lambs, goats, and deer greeted her. Rabbits leaped and flashed their tails (knowing the Queen watched them chase).

The Garden was hers to experience, undisturbed, before her people came down from the sky.

Later: Mab’s people have come down! They’re feasting, dancing. The people of Faerie are drinking nectar.

A gold-skinned maiden dances with a muscular lord. He bows his antlered head to her and swings her round and round.

Weird Talking Flames hover at the shoulders of delicate, ethereal women, while, earthier, green-skinned, cobbler men jest with a Knight who has discarded his shoes.

A bodiless fairy is only knowable to those who come upon him as a shiver down the spine.

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Mab was puzzled. Everyone should be here. But someone seemed to be missing.

Sitting on a beehive felt different from sitting on a throne in Fairyland. In Faerie, she could depend on her Rose. The Rose was good at sensing trouble and was quick to warn her. The Rose was most effective at unmasking friends as enemies.

There is some trick here and I suspect magic.

No one had ever dared play a trick upon the Queen before. It was unthinkable. This was the most bizarre of all the novel experiences that had occurred to her that night. Her world had been grey and unchanging but now...

"I am full of questions,” she sighed. “And who have I got to answer them?”

No sooner had she spoken than a hairy, pointy-eared man appeared before her doffing a floppy, three-pointed cap. Mab smiled at the gaudily dressed figure as it took its bow.

“I see through those Fool’s clothes and see the Puck within. A Puck that dares fool with the royal mind had better have an explanation ready for his Queen.”

“Why would your Fool trick you? My concealment of myself is only so I can surprise you. I seek no harm to your mind...quite the contrary.”

“Then my mind is not being influenced?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Come, speak plain, Fool. You mean my Rose”

“It’s evil. With its petals and stalk, all black. Its voice drips with poison.”

“Evil, tut”

“Tis so and that’s why I’ve come to rid you of it,” he cried.

Mab looked down at her hands in alarm. They were empty. She was about to accuse Puck when she remembered where she’d hidden the Rose. Her hand trembled as she lifted the Rose from her lap.

“Give it to me, fair lady Queen, and you won’t ever hear its lies again.”

“You want me to hand over my Rose!”

Puck nodded his head in answer. Mab realised then the power a Fool has over his Queen. Defiance would not do so she replied with a plea, “Without my Rose, I would be nothing. Do you want me deaf and blind?”

“Better, deaf and blind than see the world distorted.”

The Queen’s lip trembled. Puck wondered if he had gone too far.

“There is no distortion.” Mab tightened her grip on the Rose. “The world looks black to me. Just like this rose.”

Puck had to stop himself from reaching forward and plucking the Rose out of Mab’s hands. He knew that if he removed it against her will her mind would remain in the shadows.

“Your world has changed now…has it not? Look! The flowers are brightly coloured again. There’s space in your mind now, so fill it with the hum of bees and be happy.”

The Queen remained silent.

“I am a fool, your majesty. Only good, for scaring the country folk, they love and fear their silly Puck. But being so silly, I could never believe that voice. And the Rose could never survive contact with my hand.”

The Queen had her eyes closed now. But was she listening?

“These new feelings and sensations don’t have to leave you when you leave the Garden. You can feel alive, Mab. Don’t you want to feel alive?”

The Queen remained silent and then she spoke.

“Give up my Rose! Give it to a fool, never!”

“Then you leave me no choice, I call on this Garden’s Creator!”

“You would not dare. That’s mortal’s magic, you’ll dealing with, Puck.”

“The Creator had fairy blood, and of all humans had the most incredible imagination. That’s some power I can summon up, to make you see sense.”

“Think carefully, Fool. The Creator never lived in the real world. So says my Rose. Anything to do with him is not to be trusted.”

“But this beautiful garden is real. And you’re sitting in it. And, I bid you, look at your rose, as we begin the test.”

The Queen was aghast. He’d turned the Rose into a skull! But then she quickly laughed and composed herself again. All was well. That death’s-head was just another facet of the Rose.

She found out otherwise, when the test begun.

“You see a new image to replace what you have known. Name the image.”

“It is corruption, it is decay. It is death!”

Puck shook his head.

“The Garden’s origin is so familiar a story; we have forgotten its meaning. You are the Queen of Fairyland. You should know its meaning. A true Queen should have no trouble putting herself in the Creator’s mind and reliving the day of the Garden’s creation. There was only one action possible to the Creator when he saw the Garden. What did he do?”

The Queen couldn’t answer. In despair, she stared hard at the skull hoping for a clue. Puck signalled she acted rightly. But the skull kept guard over its secrets and she saw herself mocked in its rictus grin.

“Did he die?”

Puck chuckled. The Queen wondered how he could take the test so lightly. She felt the test’s importance. It was vital she proved her right to be Queen.

Yet even the skull seemed to find this whole business a hoot! It was doing its best to chuckle, despite not having any flesh on its face! And for a moment, instead of a skull, she fancied she saw its countenance: whilst living!

The Queen had laughed many, many times since the world lost its colour and joy. But her laughter had always been empty and lacked warmth. The laughter that burst up from her now swept all that was dark and chill from her heart, so she was almost sorry to see the merry-looking skull changed back into the most parasitical of flowers.

“You’ve passed the test, O, fairest one. Now it should be easy. Hand me the Rose.”

But things are rarely easy, even less so, when a parasite fears losing its host. The Rose may have lost speech but it still had its defences to protect it.

“I seem to have lost control of my hands! They won’t obey me. And now they’ve clamped tight shut!”

“Despair not, your majesty,” responded Puck. “I may not be able to help you any further, but I’ve brought someone with me to deal with this! She’s a teen called Julie. And it’s time she made her presence known… come up now, Julie! It’s over to you. Puck relinquishes control.”

The changeover of personality was swift, next time the Fool spoke it was with a girls’ voice.

“This is Julie. I’ve been watching you suffer, Ma’am. Please, Ma’am, let’s combine our wills. Let’s get your hands back under your command.”

The Rose was enraged. What kind of test was this? It had heard no answer from the Queen’s lips. How can laughter be an answer to anything?

And the indignity of becoming the most unthreatening and jolliest of skulls: a skull that symbolises rebirth, not death. All it had to look forward to was an unequal contest, it could not win, with two wills against its own, one of them a wilful, mortal teenager! But the Queen would not find her first moments of freedom painless. And the last act of the Rose was to pierce the Queen’s palm with one of its thorns.

“I’m free now,” said the Queen smiling despite the pain.

“Are you sure?” Julie asked. “You look like you’ve been hurt?”

The Queen opened her palms to reveal a bloody sight.

“Let me kiss that, Ma’am, if I may”

“It seems your sympathy was enough. Look, my hands are clean and healed now, the Rose is gone.”

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Julie finished her tale at the same moment the wizard finished his mead.

“That tale has a special meaning for me, Julie.”

“I could tell that from your looks, while I was telling it. But now I’ve told you my story. Do you have a story for me? Tell me. Are you a bard? You look like a bard. I asked if there were any bards around before I got shoved in here.”

“I am a Druid. So I’m priest, wizard, and bard. But I’m not sure if I have a story you’d enjoy hearing. You don’t look native to this time. And, sadly, there’s too much warring in this age you’ve landed in.”

“Well, at least I got to meet a wizard.”

“And I got to meet a girl called Julie. Now yours is a lovely name. I’ll keep it up here, in case I ever have a daughter that’s in need of a pretty name.”

“But where would you and Julie live? You can’t live here.”

“But this is my home! It may be small but I don’t want another.”

“I’m not talking about a hut or a house. I’m talking about outdoors. Only a large garden would suit a wizard like you. And that’s where I see you, living with your daughter.”

Julie smiled when she said garden.

“That’s funny, I already have a garden. Or a place that’s like a garden.”

“Is it near here? C’mon. You must show it to me.”

He tapped his forehead. “It’s up here, Julie.”

Julie looked disappointed. “That means you can’t show it to me. It’s special. But only to you.”

“I don’t see why that should be.”

“It’s because you’re separate from me. That’s why.”

The Wizard was puzzled why she should think this. Not after, she’d shared her tale with him. Then a change came upon the kindly old wizard, with a few looks, words, and passes of his hands, he cast his spell.

“How you leave here I do not know. Maybe you wake up on a hill. But you leave here changed from the girl you were. I make you a bard.”

She thanked him. Then he thanked her for the wonderful stories she would one day tell.

“You and I know that nature is sacred and reverence is her due. That hearts forever young will always find eternity in everything. Indeed, the story of the Garden is an eternal one. And I feel it will be needed more than ever in the age you come from.”

The girl looked a little overwhelmed at this. His words often had that effect on people. But he didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable so he asked. “Do you want to hear about my mother, Julie?”

“A wizard’s mother, you bet.”

The tale of his tuition was such a long one; he had to give up any plan to see the sunrise. Hours passed, the girl grew sleepy. He wondered if she would hear him to the end without falling asleep. He needed to make things clear to her before she left him, so he asked her this question.

“Do you know where fairies get their power from?”

The girl didn’t have to think. She knew the answer instantly, “From their imagination.”

“That’s right. I’m picking up impressions from you. I’m not alone in having a special place. Am I?”

The girl shook her head sadly. “It’s that place I told you about in my story. But I only went there with my fairy guide. I don’t expect I’ll ever see Puck or the Queen again. The link’s broken.”

The girl was looking too unhappy for the old man to bear.

“You saw your special place as a child must see it. That means you won’t be able to return to it anytime soon. But let me give you some encouragement, Julie.”

The old man smiled kindly. The girl waited for him to speak. But she heard only silence. The silence enveloped her like his aura of gentleness enfolding her.

The gentlest fingers closed her eyelids.

The Wizard had summoned Mother Sleep. Together they broke the silence with a lullaby. And their song sounded to Julie like birds welcoming the dawn.