The faeries were so hard to resist! Their soft fluttering hands stroking her hair and body stirred pleasurable sensations and made her want to do anything they asked. Their melodious, coaxing voices threaded bewilderingly into her mind, confusing her, making her feel fuzzy-headed.

Snowpepper! This isn’t good! Sylvie’s voice was sharp in Snowpepper’s head. She wished the voice would go away, but it persisted. They’re doing something to you! Can’t you feel it? It’s like a drug, I can see it working in you but it’s not affecting me.

Snowpepper didn’t care. She opened her mouth and sighed softly. “Oh, faeries, you lovely things,” she cooed. “No, I don’t want to go to your house, or yours, can’t we all just stay together?”

She felt them drawing her deeper into the floral jungle. She began to feel the stirrings of mild alarm. Maybe Sylvie was right. She struggled half-heartedly, said, “Okay, faeries, I have to go now,” but their multiple grip on her tightened. They were definitely pulling on her now.

“No, come, you i come,” they sang together, their sweet voices forming a chorale of hypnotic harmonies that hid the insistent meaning of their words. “We want you. Come, come now, you must come.”

“No,” Snowpepper said, resisting the best she could. “No, faeries, I have to go… Didn’t you hear me? Hey, faeries, hey…”

Her limbs didn’t seem to be working properly. The flower faeries had little trouble slowly tugging her along. She felt too confused to be very frightened or angry, but in the back of her mind, Sylvie was growing frantic.

Snowpepper! Snow, for godsakes, wake up! Can’t you hear me?

Yeah, I can hear you, came Snowpepper’s muzzy thought. But I can’t seem to do anything. My body’s all fuddled up. I don’t like that. Her thoughts were petulant, helpless.

You’re drunk! Or stoned, or something, Snow! We have to get out of here! Something bad’s about to happen, I just know it!

Oh, Sylvie-pie, you worry too much, Snowpepper’s thoughts were growing increasingly indistinct. Maybe it’ll be… fine… Snowpepper lost consciousness. Sylvie was left alone in the faerie’s mind, being pulled swiftly through the twining tendriled corridors of the flower jungle. Where were they taking her?

I have to do something! she thought frantically. I just have to! She clenched her fists, and discovered to her shock and amazement that she could. Snowpepper’s fists clenched in response to her own impulses. It must be because Snowpepper is unconscious, Sylvie realized. That leaves me in charge of the show.

Thankfully, Sylvie seemed to be immune to whatever intoxicant they were using, and Snowpepper’s body responded to the adrenaline rush. She began to fight the faeries in earnest. “No!” she shrieked. “Let me go!” Blindly, she clawed her way out of the grasp of their hungry fingers. They were rather easy to fight off, she realized, if you were determined and used your full strength. They were like the flowers, weak and yielding. They lured their prey by the beauty of their scent and the hypnotic effect of their voices.

And prey she was meant to be, she discovered. As she broke off and flew awkwardly away, kicking away their importunate hands, she caught a glimpse of the destination they had been pulling her toward. A monstrous pink caterpillar lay just beyond the next bank of flowers. Its gaping maw, large enough to easily swallow her whole, made sucking motions like an infant awaiting the nipple.

The sight galvanized Sylvie to redouble her efforts to fly. She was not getting the hang of it, though; she lacked Snowpepper’s expert, intuitive flight sense. She couldn’t seem to make the wings work properly. She couldn’t sense them kinesthetically as a part of her body, and as a result could only flap them in a mechanical way; she could barely stay aloft. The flower faeries, though individually weak, still outnumbered her greatly, and more reinforcements were arriving by the second.

She was still flapping ineffectually, being pulled on by more and more gently persistent hands, when when she remembered, like a light bursting in her brain. All she had to do was speak her name—Sylvie—and they would be transported back to reality! Jubilantly, she opened her mouth to do so when she felt Snowpepper stirring back to consciousness. Before she say the word, the faerie had reoccupied her body and it no longer responded to Sylvie.

Fortunately for them, Snowpepper grasped the situation rather quickly, considering how dopey she had seemed when she lost consciousness, Sylvie thought. She streaked speedily out of the flower jungle, leaving the flower faeries to find some other prey to feed their monster with.

Once they were safely away, Snowpepper cried accusingly, “You were going to do it! You were going to say the name! How could you!” She was shaking with indignation and reaction. The shock of hearing the name in Sylvie’s mind and realizing that she intended to actually say it had served as a bucket of freezing water to wake her completely.

Oh come on, Snow, Sylvie replied defensively. Give me a fucking break! They were about to take us down! I couldn’t fly—you were out of it—what would you suggest?

This shut the faerie up. She flew on in a sulk, leaving Sylvie to mull over what had happened. She was still not being straight with Snowpepper, and her conscience rankled her. She had tried to go home, and she was crushingly disappointed that her attempt had failed. The truth was, even if there had been no danger pressing, if she had the power to speak, she would not hesitate to say her name, the magic word.

Why couldn’t she tell Snowpepper what she intended? She felt like a terrible sneak. She was treating the faerie like an enemy or an obstacle to manoeuvre around instead of giving her the respect she deserved. As a part of herself, Snowpepper should have equal rights to decide what happened to them.

The truth was, and it was a hard one for Sylvie to admit, that she didn’t want to let Snowpepper have that power. She knew that, if she told her what she meant to do, the faerie would fight her. She would never consent to go over there voluntarily. She was terrified of the place, it was obvious. Sylvie told herself that deceiving Snowpepper was the only right and efficient thing to do. She belonged on the other side, she didn’t belong here, and Snowpepper was going to have to deal with that, that was all.

But still, it didn’t feel right. Her heart ached.

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