your way so you can dance.”
The fairy wearing the mossy cap fluttered his wings and darted up to hover in front of Annie. “We never said you could sleep. You sleep in the daytime, not now. If you’re too tired to dance with us, we can help you.” Opening a tiny pouch, the fairy flew above Annie and sprinkled sparkly dust over her head and shoulders.
Annie sneezed and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. “That isn’t going to do anything.”
“Why isn’t she dancing?” asked a fairy with white hair like a dandelion puff when Annie didn’t move.
The fairy with the mossy cap flew down to look in Annie’s eyes. “I don’t know. I used the right fairy dust, but her eyes aren’t glazing over.”
“She has to dance! Everyone has to dance when we tell them to!” said another fairy.
“Honestly, your dust won’t work on me,” Annie began, but the fairies didn’t seem to be listening. When she tried to step out of the ring, a group of them gathered in front of her and batted their wings in her face while others sprinkled her with more dust. The fairy dust settled on her shoulders like drifts of pink and purple dandruff. It trickled into her collar and made her itch. She opened her mouth to tell them how useless it was to sprinkle fairy dust on her, but when she inhaled she started coughing so hard that she couldn’t stop. Dust felloff her with each cough, making the ground around her sparkle.
“She’s wasting our dust!” cried a fairy with blue hair. Scowling, the fairy flew close enough to tweak Annie’s nose. Annie swatted at him, knocking the fairy away.
“I’ll teach her!” shouted the dandelion-puff fairy. Flying at head height, the fairy pointed her finger and ordered Annie to turn into a pig. The air sizzled between Annie and the fairy for just an instant before the magic rebounded and struck the fairy full force. The other fairies gasped with horror when their friend’s wings disappeared and she fell to the ground grunting, a tiny pig no bigger than Annie’s little finger.
Suddenly the cloud of fairies settled on Annie, pulling her hair, pinching her cheeks, and jabbing her with pine needles that they’d picked up from the forest floor.
“Get away from me!” Annie shouted. Waving her hands, she batted at the fairies, sending them tumbling through the air each time her hand made contact. She twisted and turned beneath their attack, slapping at her back and legs as she tried to rid herself of the more determined fairies, but the more she slapped, the angrier they became, until it felt as if she were caught in the midst of a swarm of bees. As the fairies became nastier, Annie squeezed her eyes shut and covered them with one of her hands, leaving only one hand free for slapping. When shebumped into the old oak tree, she thought she heard a faint crunch, but didn’t dare open her eyes to look.
The fairies had jabbed Annie with so many pine needles and pinched her so many times that she was sure she must be covered with tiny holes and bruises. It didn’t look as if they’d ever give up, so finally in desperation she threw herself flat on the ground and began to roll. Although some of the more stubborn fairies held on, most of them let go rather than risk being squashed. She was still rolling across the uneven floor when a roar shook the forest. The fairies fled, leaving Annie alone. She lay motionless, her eyes closed as something big lumbered near enough to snuffle her face, swiping it with something warm and wet.
Now what?
Annie thought. When nothing more happened, she opened one eye a crack and peered up. A huge black head blocked the moonlight. At first Annie couldn’t tell what it was, just that it wasn’t a fairy. It had a heavy, musky smell that was worse than wet dog, so she knew it was an animal of some sort.
When Annie didn’t move, the creature grunted and poked her with its paw. Annie peeked at it again. Suddenly she knew not only what it was, but why the fairies
The fairy wearing the mossy cap fluttered his wings and darted up to hover in front of Annie. “We never said you could sleep. You sleep in the daytime, not now. If you’re too tired to dance with us, we can help you.” Opening a tiny pouch, the fairy flew above Annie and sprinkled sparkly dust over her head and shoulders.
Annie sneezed and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. “That isn’t going to do anything.”
“Why isn’t she dancing?” asked a fairy with white hair like a dandelion puff when Annie didn’t move.
The fairy with the mossy cap flew down to look in Annie’s eyes. “I don’t know. I used the right fairy dust, but her eyes aren’t glazing over.”
“She has to dance! Everyone has to dance when we tell them to!” said another fairy.
“Honestly, your dust won’t work on me,” Annie began, but the fairies didn’t seem to be listening. When she tried to step out of the ring, a group of them gathered in front of her and batted their wings in her face while others sprinkled her with more dust. The fairy dust settled on her shoulders like drifts of pink and purple dandruff. It trickled into her collar and made her itch. She opened her mouth to tell them how useless it was to sprinkle fairy dust on her, but when she inhaled she started coughing so hard that she couldn’t stop. Dust felloff her with each cough, making the ground around her sparkle.
“She’s wasting our dust!” cried a fairy with blue hair. Scowling, the fairy flew close enough to tweak Annie’s nose. Annie swatted at him, knocking the fairy away.
“I’ll teach her!” shouted the dandelion-puff fairy. Flying at head height, the fairy pointed her finger and ordered Annie to turn into a pig. The air sizzled between Annie and the fairy for just an instant before the magic rebounded and struck the fairy full force. The other fairies gasped with horror when their friend’s wings disappeared and she fell to the ground grunting, a tiny pig no bigger than Annie’s little finger.
Suddenly the cloud of fairies settled on Annie, pulling her hair, pinching her cheeks, and jabbing her with pine needles that they’d picked up from the forest floor.
“Get away from me!” Annie shouted. Waving her hands, she batted at the fairies, sending them tumbling through the air each time her hand made contact. She twisted and turned beneath their attack, slapping at her back and legs as she tried to rid herself of the more determined fairies, but the more she slapped, the angrier they became, until it felt as if she were caught in the midst of a swarm of bees. As the fairies became nastier, Annie squeezed her eyes shut and covered them with one of her hands, leaving only one hand free for slapping. When shebumped into the old oak tree, she thought she heard a faint crunch, but didn’t dare open her eyes to look.
The fairies had jabbed Annie with so many pine needles and pinched her so many times that she was sure she must be covered with tiny holes and bruises. It didn’t look as if they’d ever give up, so finally in desperation she threw herself flat on the ground and began to roll. Although some of the more stubborn fairies held on, most of them let go rather than risk being squashed. She was still rolling across the uneven floor when a roar shook the forest. The fairies fled, leaving Annie alone. She lay motionless, her eyes closed as something big lumbered near enough to snuffle her face, swiping it with something warm and wet.
Now what?
Annie thought. When nothing more happened, she opened one eye a crack and peered up. A huge black head blocked the moonlight. At first Annie couldn’t tell what it was, just that it wasn’t a fairy. It had a heavy, musky smell that was worse than wet dog, so she knew it was an animal of some sort.
When Annie didn’t move, the creature grunted and poked her with its paw. Annie peeked at it again. Suddenly she knew not only what it was, but why the fairies
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