The six moss folk rattled softly as the great fairies nodded in farewell and strode from the village for the fields. A door creaked open and a woman called to her chickens to come eat.

Cocot rubbed the edge of the basin where she had last seen her mother standing.

Seventy years ago, her mother had drained almost all of her magic in the fountain, using it first to seal the evil in its world, then to wish to be human. She would have appeared out of thin air for the humans. Jean-Baptist caught her as she fell in weakness, and in turn he fell in love with her.

Cocot turned to leave. The moss folk bowed low again, heads nearly touching the cobblestones, and they crawled backwards from the village to the forest. Cocot tread slowly after them. Instead of going home to the chalet, she walked through the woods to where she had left Hector.

Deep in her heart, she hoped the tincture had healed his wounds and given him back his life. That with the rising sun, he would wake up and be new again. She couldn't help but hope.

A large pile of river stones greeted her at the bottom of the hill instead of Hector. Soufflé stood next to the funeral mound with three red-capped Bounet Rodzos behind him.

"The Bounet Rodzos asked if I would stay and tell you they buried your horse. They—" His voice broke. "They say they forgive him for killing the little one by the fountain all those years ago."

"Thank you," she whispered. The little girl Bounet Rodzo had been the first in an unending line of unfortunate creatures. After all the years Hector had spent in the service of a Huntsman, she would have understood if the fairy creatures couldn't forgive him. "That night, I think he wanted to help her by swallowing the evil up. That is all he ever wanted, to protect others. An ordinary farm horse who pulled carts and plows and yet he dreamed of great deeds."

One of the red-capped fairy creatures nodded and began to speak. His words were tumbling rocks and blowing leaves to Cocot.

"He says that Hector died a true hero, he gave his life saving someone he loved," Soufflé explained. He lifted his doll's cup towards Cocot. "You should take this back."

That chasm of sorrow she saw on his face the night before opened up again, and this time she fell right in.

Tears filled her eyes. "Hector was my hero, you're right. And no I won't take your cup back, you're wrong to give it to me. It's yours and you're going to need it when you come for tea every afternoon."

"I can't pretend to be your friend anymore, child," he said. "Not after what I've done. I won't come to your home to see you."

His harsh words stung Cocot to the quick. "I'm not mad at you."

"You should be. I spied on you. I tricked you for information. I left you alone in that chalet for days on end, so you would be unhappy. I never told you all what I knew. I was her servant, and her spells made sure I stayed that way," he said. "But I let her put the spells on me and that cannot be forgiven."

"You came when Jean-Baptist tried to break through the door."

"The witch trapped him in that room when he died, and after she provoked him, she sent me to see how you were doing."

"You warned me about Hector," Cocot insisted. "You helped me get away from him the first time he chased me in the lane."

"It was her evil whisperings that stirred the hunt in his blood, but yes, I tried to warn you."

"You told me to leave the chalet."

He sighed. "That might have solved all my problems, for a while. But not yours. I didn't want her to hurt you, but she would have followed sooner or later out of spite, and I would still be serving her."

"Why were you serving her?"

"Because I was dying and alone and I didn't want it to end that way. She revived me, gave me a purpose and in return, I became her slave. I didn't realize at the time...." The hand fairy frowned at the cup.

"You saw me put the tincture in the water, but you led her to believe she should drink from the basin," Cocot said. He was not evil by choice, he had not served the witch of his own free will.

"Yes, when I saw a way for you. Her spells were such that I could not go against a direct order, but when I saw a way, the cost to myself made no difference."

"What cost?"

"I must say goodbye, Coquelicot. I'm leaving."

"Soufflé....That isn't your name, is it?" Cocot asked.

"It is your name for me. I treasure it. I have to go. Now that the witch's power is broken, I am dying again."

"Dying? How long do you have?"

"A month or two perhaps," he said, shrugging. "And after all the harm I've done here, it is best that I go."

"Stay," she whispered. "Please. Stay and we'll make a nest for you near the chalet. I've said too many goodbyes too fast," the girl said. "We might even be able to find a spell—"

"No more spells," he interrupted. "All fairy creatures die and my time is coming."

"Please stay."

"Do you really want me around after all the lies I told you?" he asked.

"Why, you're like the cranky uncle that no one gets along with at Sunday dinners." The girl tried to make light of the situation, but her smile vanished before it even fully appeared. She should hate him after everything he'd done, but she recognized his loneliness in the craggy lines of his face. And the goodness in his tiny heart. "I have lost my whole family, Soufflé. I think you should stay as long as you can. My mother is truly gone now. The the king and even Wenslar - they're gone. Hector is gone."

"Because of the witch, who I helped."

"She tricked you. How could anyone have so much hate in them? A body should only be able to hold so much, but the witch had more than I thought possible. She killed so many, she said she loved Jean-Baptist, but she trapped him for years in that workroom. How? Why?"

"Room in the heart for hatred is limited only by the heart's desire to say stop. No more. As is room for love," replied Soufflé. "Why did the witch never stop hating? Perhaps no one ever gave her reason to stop, least of all herself."

Cocot dropped to the ground to sit next to Soufflé and the huge pile of stones covering Hector. She wrapped her arms around her legs. There was a wordless, monotonous lullaby that sprang from the trees and flowers around her and she replied in kind for several minutes, humming and rocking herself.

A wild raspberry bush grew nearby that she hadn't seen in the night. Its branches were thick with plump berries and they leaned over the head of Hector's grave. He would never want for moonlight or a path to the heavens. They fell silent, watching the light grow in the glade.

"Soufflé," she said, weaving her voice into the quiet, "how am I supposed to say goodbye to my mother, to Hector?" Around her, the Bounet Rodzos and several moss folk hiding among the trees leaned closer to listen. "How do I do it?"

"Little by little, bit by bit. You will take one step and say one part of a goodbye every day until it's done. There will always be an emptiness, of course, where your loved ones used to be, but there will also be happiness surrounding it."

She thought about that for a moment before deciding that the pain left by her mother's death was too much to be divided up into small parts at that time. If she let started to let it out, it would consume her. She would keep that pain for herself for a while and begin with saying goodbye to Hector. That would be hard enough.

"I can't help but blame myself that so many fairies were killed and Hector, too. It's still my fault," she said.

"None of it is your fault. The great fairies died because the witch wanted revenge and Wenslar wanted the crown. You saved Hector, even though he died. You gave him the chance to be what he dreamed of being—a hero. Born an ordinary farm horse, changed into a monster, but in his last minutes he lived how he wanted to live and died how he chose." The hand fairy swallowed. "And you are giving me a few weeks to be part of a family and to live how I want to live."

"You won't be alone," she said.

"And you won't be alone, either. Not anymore." The old hand fairy sat on her shoulder, and clung to her hair for whole the walk home.

*** Thank you for reading as always. ***