Chapter 2

Placing the two raspberries down on the big table, Sorrel double checked to make sure the tiny toy table and chair that stood on top of his mother's outside table were still there. This would be where he sat with her, giving them both a sense of eating together.

He nodded, happy it was fine, before running back to the ledge of the table to hop back into the garden. She already has blueberries, cheese, crackers, chicken, and bread. He knew there was also some ham and other preserved meats in the basket. I should pick a few blackberries next.

Since it was late autumn, there wasn't much else he could pick. Greta, his mother, wasn't a big eater, though. Since Sorrel was so small, the size of a human's thumb, he only ever needed to tear off a tiny amount of her food.

Two or three bubbles from a raspberry was enough for him.

Right before he landed, he thought he saw a glitter of red dust in the corner of his eyes. Distracted, he stumbled when his feet hit the dirt of the herb garden.

He looked behind him but saw nothing.

Shrugging, he delved into the leafy shrubs of the long garden, pushing them out of his way as he ran to the other side. Stalks swayed as he shoved them with his hands or shoulders.

I'm glad she wanted to have a picnic today.

The sun was warm, the day bright and beautiful. Sorrel enjoyed being outside, but Greta didn't like when he was out here by himself for long periods of time.

Since it was growing colder, he'd noticed she only came out to do the farm work. In summer, she used to read to him while they were seated on the swing chair on the porch next to the back door.

When he found the blackberry bush, he jumped up. His hands clasped a berry, and it plucked straight off. He fell to the ground, landing on top of a discarded cat bell from Greta's cat, Izzy.

Izzy was rather fond of Sorrel, surprisingly. He liked lazing on her long, fluffy white fur – especially after she'd been sunbathing.

It chimed as it rolled back an inch, and Sorrel gasped as he tripped back, just as he landed against something warm. He chuckled as he clutched the berry safely to his chest, thankful he hadn't fallen back.

If he hit his head and became unconscious, it was doubtful Greta would find him.

"That was a close one," someone stated right behind his ear.

His back stiffened as he realised it wasn't a plant he'd knocked into, but a person of his size.

He didn't know why his first reaction was to scream, or to randomly start throwing things, but that's what he did.

Spinning around, he launched the blackberry at the person's head. Their body bent backwards when it hit them directly in the face. Next came a small seed from the ground, but they were still recovering from the berry when it thonked them in the nose.

"Hey! Ouch!" they – he – yelled as he ducked beneath a second seed whooshing over his head. "Shit, stop it!"

Sorrel dived for a sharp twig and pointed the tip at him. "W-who are you?"

Now that items were no longer being thrown, the stranger straightened and eyed Sorrel's twig. Humour gleamed in his expression as he pulled his own sword from a sheath. His glinted with metal and looked sharp.

Sorrel paused when he took him in. Oh wow. He looks like me.

Like a human, but tiny.

"You really think that will protect you?" He swung his sword, and it cut the tip of Sorrel's stick off.

The stranger cut it halfway down, and then again, dangerously close to his hands.

His relief at seeing someone like him was quickly sliced away. Now he just found the man threatening.

"Get the fuck away from me!" Sorrel yelled, throwing the remaining chunk of his makeshift weapon at the man's chest.

He turned, looking for something else he could use instead. There's a stranger in the yard. The need to protect Greta clutched at his chest. Was this person dangerous to her, to him?

"Language, language," the man chuckled out, then Sorrel was tackled from behind before he could reach for anything. "There's no need for such foul words."

With a grunt, Sorrel managed to roll over beneath him, unsure if the stranger let him or not. If so, he would have instantly regretted it when Sorrel head-butted him.

"OW!" He clutched his face with a howl of pain. "You're a feisty little thing, aren't you?"

Rolling them over, Sorrel grabbed his attacker's wrists, huffing as he pinned his hands to the dirt beneath them. "Why are you here? Did you come to hurt Greta?"

Despite the redness in his nose from where Sorrel smashed it with his forehead, the man beneath him grinned. Then his honey-coloured eyes glanced side to side, inspecting his trapped hands.

"You're much stronger than you look."

Straddling the man's waist, Sorrel tried to breathe through his strained breaths. Calm, I need to remain calm.

"I-I asked you a question."

The stranger's head dipped to the side, just as his dazzling grin flashed white teeth as it grew. "I came to say hello."

"Funny way of showing it," Sorrel answered. "Do you usually sneak onto people's lands uninvited?"

Sorrel's gaze lifted to the kitchen window at the whistle of the teapot. Greta would be back outside soon.

Should he call for help? Bit useless, since he doubted Greta would hear his tiny voice, even more so with her dulled hearing.

"My name's Cypress, and I really don't mean you any harm." Wrists still trapped by Sorrel, he flattened his hands in surrender. "I've just seen you and thought I would introduce myself."

"Seen me?" His colour paled as he brought his gaze back to Cypress' face below him. "Have... you been watching me?"

"Not at all." His face softened and his eyes crinkled with humour. "I heard a bell and then found you helping out on the farm. I thought it was strange. I'd never met you before and noticed you were by yourself."

"I'm not." Sorrel's tone was instantly defensive and his grip on Cypress' wrists tightened. "I have Greta."

"I meant someone of our size." His tone implied he wanted to roll his eyes, but he didn't do it.

Now that things were settling, Sorrel allowed his gaze to roam over him.

He'd thought they appeared honey coloured, but Cypress' eyes were actually like reddish-brown maple leaves covered in sticky, dripping sap. They were molten, eliciting a tingle in his mind at the richness of them. The man's cheekbones were high, but it was difficult to see just how sharp his jaw was with the dark red, almost hazelnut-coloured beard covering his jawline, chin, and upper lip. It was short and neatly trimmed. The colour and length matched the hair around the sides of his head. The top was longer and in lighter shades, almost boyishly blown back like the wind had shaped it.

A few freckles dotted his cheeks, forehead, and nose, but they were light and gentle – barely noticeable.

Sorrel was frozen as he stared down, unsure of why his heart decided to beat so strangely in his chest. His gaze bounced from Cypress' eyes to the rounded arches of his ears, then to the sharp angle of his nose, digesting the handsome person.

His mouth dried like he was suddenly thirsty.

When Sorrel didn't say anything, unsure how to rebuff his comment and no longer sure of how to speak, Cypress cocked a brow.

"Do you usually sit on men's laps?"

Heat instantly rose into Sorrel's cheeks and he turned his gaze straight downwards, realising he was still straddling Cypress' waist, his arse precariously pressed against the other man's groin.

His heart clenched in sheer mortification, especially when he realised his body was tingling in a way he wasn't accustomed to. He jumped to his feet to put space between them.

Eyeing Sorrel intently, Cypress slowly got to his feet. "Your face has suddenly gone pink. Are you okay?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sorrel answered, folding his arms across his chest. He ducked slightly behind a leaf to hide his reaction.

"I think that was a lie. Did you like sitting on my lap?"

A stray piece of saliva sucked into his lungs, and he coughed as he choked. He shoved the leaf away.

"N-nope!" Sorrel turned to him once he'd managed to save himself, squeaking out, "My name's Sorrel."

Fluttering snagged his attention. Things that, when unmoving, were so clear they were invisible, but cascaded glittering red dust when in motion.

"Oh my god. You... you're a–" Sorrel pointed at his wings.

"I'm a flower fairy." Cypress placed his hand over his stomach and bowed in greeting. Then his head cocked. "What are you, though?"

Cypress eyed him over, and Sorrel's shoulders turned inwards at being examined. "I don't know."

"No matter." Cypress reached forward, and Sorrel noticed a certain superior confidence in his steps as he came closer. The flower fairy held his hand out, palm up, to him. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Sorrel gingerly slipped his hand into the offered one, finding it pleasantly warm. Cypress' grip was firm yet gentle, and Sorrel could feel calluses on his fingertips. The roughness of them sent tingles through the joints of his hand.

Sorrel's heart sunk. "Are you about to leave?"

There was someone here, right in front of him, who was the same size as him! Someone real – and warm. Someone who wasn't air or his imagination. Yes, it was selfish, but even though Sorrel didn't know him, he didn't want Cypress to leave just yet.

His eyes drifted longingly over his new acquaintance's wings. Cypress could go anywhere, could leave and never come back. Sorrel couldn't do that. His feet were permanently stuck to the ground.

If only I had wings. To be so free he could go anywhere and see the large world, which was unbelievably daunting to something no bigger than a human's thumb.

He wanted to taste just a small amount of that freedom. To see more than the world from the ground. He would never leave Greta alone, all by herself, but he'd love to be able to pick her a wildflower from somewhere and gift it to her.

"Actually," Cypress said, running his fingers through his windblown hair, "I was wondering if you would like to come on an adventure with me."

Sorrel's pulse stammered. "An adventure?"

His eyes turned towards the forest just beyond the fence line. To go past the farm? He looked at Cypress' wings once more. How far could he take me?

"I know you don't know me, but I'm asking you to trust me."

Sorrel shook his head and took a step away. "I'm sorry, but I can't. I can't leave Greta."

Seeming to sense his anxiety, like he already knew him, Cypress lifted his hand to him once more. His wings fluttered, cascading red dust, as he quickly said, "I'll bring you back to the human woman. I promise to bring you home."

I promise to bring you home. Maybe it was just his loneliness. Maybe it was just his sense of adventure. Maybe it was just his want to live – even for one night – but Sorrel wanted to leap at this opportunity.

He looked down at Cypress' reaching hand, beckoning him closer.

But Greta.

Sorrel shook his head. "Greta... she'll be upset if she finds me gone."

"We don't have to go now," Cypress stated, drawing his hand back. "What about tonight?"

"Tonight?"

I can spend just one night with him?

"Sorrel?" Greta yelled, her voice drifting over from the table outside. He'd been so distracted, he hadn't heard her come out! "Do you need a hand, little petal?"

"Yes, tonight." Cypress' lips twitched, causing his short beard to curl inwards, as if he suppressed the urge to smile. "Your bedroom must have a window, right? I can meet you by it once she goes to sleep. I promise to have you back before she wakes."

Large footsteps made the grass crackle as Greta came over to the garden.

Sorrel needed to make his decision, and fast.

"Okay, tonight," Sorrel huffed out. "I'll meet you by the window."

With a grin lifting his cheeks, Cypress nodded as he picked up his discarded sword. "You can't tell the human about me, though. Humans aren't supposed to know about fairies."

Sorrel didn't tell him that he wouldn't dream of mentioning anything to Greta. I don't want to upset her. He didn't think she'd keep him trapped, but he knew she'd worry for his safety.

Yet, as Cypress left, Sorrel worried about that too.

Not enough to stop him, not when his heart pounded with anticipation and excitement.

I met someone the same size as me.