“I don’t know, Sissy,” said Starla. She brushed her blue hair from her eyes. “What if we get caught?”
Sissy fluttered her translucent wings impatiently. “Who cares?” she said. “We’ve never been out of the faery patch.”
Starla took flight and hovered uncertainly over the deep purple petals of her mother’s house in a tall, proud larkspur. It was one of a million in the hillside patch, but it was her favorite. She had hatched just a week and a half ago in this very larkspur.
“You know the larkspur doesn’t bloom forever, right?” Sissy said. “All the faeries will have to find new houses when the flowers turn brown. So we’d just be getting a head start.”
“Oh, all right,” Starla said.
The two tiny faeries took off together. Their wings made a faint buzzing sound, softer than a hummingbird. They passed ladybugs headed out to market and honey bees with pollen-speckled faces. They laughed as they spun higher and higher on a gentle updraft. Soon the vast larkspur forest was spread out below them like a green sky filled with deep purple stars.
Sissy took Starla’s hand. “Are you ready?” she cried over the rushing wind.
“Ready!”
They snatched at a passing dogwood petal and clung to it, screaming with glee. “Where will we land?” Starla yelled.
“Who knows? It could be anywhere!” Sissy replied.
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