Moonflowers

-red light, green light-

The hills around them roll green and lively, but Lucy's gotten sick of them considering the circumstances. "Where's my husband?" She asks the deer-man. "Your horse nearly stepped on him--is he okay?"

The deer-man doesn't answer, only taps out a song on the other side of the glass. His skull lies next to his chair; it's the giant elk now.

"What's happened to our daughter?" She tries again.

"She's an adult," he tells her with a shrug. "She can take care of herself."

"That doesn't mean she'll be perfectly fine about her parents going missing for two weeks!"

"Ah, yes. Humans are so attached to their bloodlines."

Lucy huffs; it's pointless to explain why she's worried if the deer-man clearly isn't human. "Why did you even take us here?"

The deer-man laughs, and it bounces through his skull. "It's fun listening to you."

He steps through the glass and pulls a pair of bronze scissors out of his pocket. He is unusually handsome underneath the skull mask, but Lucy doesn't trust the smooth, silvery skin or the green cat's eyes. The scissors move at her face, and she winces--but after a snip at her hair, he fluffs it.

"I can see where she got that hair." He nods in approval, turning the curl around. "Yours is nice, but I like them wild."

She stiffens. "How old are you?"

He pockets the scissors and the curled lock, then puts the skull back on. A piercing whistle sounds, and his horse and dogs appear.

She knows the glass won't give, but still kicks halfheartedly. This time, though, the glass shudders into wide black cliffs, and moves to a trail by an icy river. The English part of the sign reads "Please keep the trails clean," and she doesn't recognize the second language. Alima is with a blond guy that she doesn't know--and Ned is a ghost at the end of a leash. He's thin and ragged, but even with his limp, he keeps up with them easily.

"Ned?!" Lucy's at the glass. "Alima!"

"--any tricks yet?" The blond boy asks, in a lilting Irish accent. "He's just about healed now, isn't he?"

"He just stares at me and lies down," Alima admits with a laugh. "I don't think--"

She hits it. "Ned, I'm here! Ned!"

She sees his ears prick, and he drags Alima away from the river. "Lucy."

"Agh, not again--Bulan, heel!"

"Bulan?! That's Ned! Alima, that's your--"

"Don't!" The blond spots something and grabs Alima.

Ned stops and backs up as well: A circle of pale grass keeps him from going further, but his golden eyes are looking for her. "Lucy? Are you in there?"

Alima tugs at Ned's leash. "Bulan, come."

He does so, but reluctantly, and whines in earnest. Alima's pats are unnoticed as yellow eyes meet Lucy's own.

"That's a fairy ring," says the blond. "Sometimes it's weird grass, sometimes it's a ring of mushrooms. Either way, you don't step in it."

Alima fiddles with her braid. "He probably smelled the magic and got curious."

"He's not curious, honey, he's looking for me!" Lucy pounds again. "NED!"

"Excuse me!" A crow crashes through the glass indignantly, and when the shards fall, she turns into a woman. "Just because you're in a fairy-hill doesn't mean you can yammer on--huh."