Christmas Fairy Magic by Margaret McNamara

can get across?” asked Sylva. It wasn’t like her to be afraid, but the storm was fearsome, the sky dark, the winds fierce, the water beating against the rocks. “If we get weak or tired we may—”
    â€œIf we’re weak or tired, we will pull each other through!” said Goldie.
    â€œWe can do this, sisters,” said Clara.
    â€œWe must do this to save ourselves,” said Rosy. “And to save the . . .”
    She waited for Squeak to say “baby.” But Squeak was too weak to say a word.

eighteen
    O ut into the fearsome wind they flew. I can barely imagine how they did it. There hadn’t been quite enough food at the party, so none of them had had much to eat since their breakfast hours and hours ago. Halfway between Heart Island and Sheepskerry they were blown back out to sea, which meant their journey was even longer than it should have been. They looked in vain for help from seals or seabirds, but no other creature was foolish enough to venture out in this kind of cruel winter wind.

    â€œHold on, Squeak,” said Clara. “Hold on and we will get you warm and safe again.”
    Rosy could tell that the baby fairy was still all right, thanks to the baby carrier Goldie had made. Still, she was squirming and fussing. “Be still, little one,” said Rosy. “I promise we will keep you safe from harm.” But even as she said the words, she didn’t know if she could keep her promise.
    â€œWe have to give her a name!” called Sylva as she flew. “Oops, there goes my sneaker!”
    â€œNot now, Sylva,” said Clara.
    â€œYes, now! I’ve got to take my mind off this wind somehow.”
    â€œOkay!” called Rosy over the wind. “She was born one day before Christmas, so something Christmassy.”
    â€œHolly?” called Sylva.
    â€œStar?” cried Goldie.
    â€œPoinsettia?” asked Rosy.
    â€œDefinitely not Poinsettia,” said Goldie.
    â€œHow about Noel?” said Clara. And even with the wind howling in her ears, Clara could hear the baby laugh. “Noel it is, then,” she said in a whisper.
    â€œLand!” cried Sylva. “Sheepskerry Island, twenty yards away.”
    Through the darkness, the Fairy Bell sisters could just see the outline of the tall spruce trees on Sheepskerry’s shore. “There’s White Rose Cottage!” cried Rosy. She had never been so happy to see a place in her life.
    â€œShall we stop there and rest?” asked Goldie. “I think I can go on, but you two must be exhausted, carrying those little ones.”
    â€œLet’s press on!” cried Clara. “I can do it now. Can you, Rosy?”
    â€œI can!” cried Rosy.
    The Fairy Bell sisters put on a final burst of speed and in a trice were on the path back to their fairy house.
    â€œOh no, Clara!” cried Rosy. “Our house! What’s the matter?”
    There was a strange glowing coming from the Bell sisters’ fairy house. It couldn’t be on fire, could it? thought Clara, her heart racing. Not after all we’ve been through.
    â€œHurry!”
    Though their wings were exhausted with the effort, and their hands and faces raw with the cold, the sisters pushed on to their house.

    â€œIf our house is gone, we’ll manage somehow,” said Rosy. “The Flower sisters will take us in, or Queen Mab.”
    â€œBut all our pretty things—they can’t all be burned to the ground, can they?”
    As the sisters flew closer and closer to their fairy house, the glow only got brighter. But one by one they began to think that perhaps it wasn’t fire after all.
    â€œI don’t think our house is on fire,” said Rosy. “There’s no smoke.”
    â€œAnd no flames,” said Clara. “But feel how warm it is!”
    They landed on the lawn of their fairy house. The house was not on fire. It was lit with a brilliant light from inside.