Michelle was acting all kinds of stupid and she knew it. Following a conspicuous creature into the forest at nightfall? Lying to grandpa about where she went? Hoping a kiss would wake her up from that nightmare? What the hell! Had she really?

There were no words for this level of stupid and yet, the kiss had been a dream, not a nightmare ... and this creature, this Fae shifter with his deer eyes, sinewy forearms, and blatant disrespect for clothing? Heat flared up from her lower belly just thinking about him. Ansel was a dreamboat.

Which was all the more reason to keep running, never mind her glasses were more nuisance than help in this damp weather and she was obviously running in the wrong direction.

It was an impossible quest.

Home lay behind her, but so was Ansel, blocking her way. Furthermore, turning back would mean she'd be running upwind and the conditions, humid and windy, were already perfect for an average deer's sense of smell. A deer would be able to smell her from at least a quarter of a mile away. Nothing about Ansel was average though. That meant ... she didn't stand a chance outrunning him.

It was more stubbornness than common sense that urged her to put one foot in front of the other on the uneven terrain, her arms up to shield her face from lashing twigs while desperately hoping for a miracle.

Light. A pretty, golden light hovered between the trees in front of her, and then there was music, the heavenly strum of a harp, an ethereal waterfall of tiny bells accompanied by the warm tones of a flute.

Warning signals rang loud in Michelle's head. Perhaps this was what Ansel had tried to warn her about, but her feet kept trudging in the direction of the light as she became gradually aware of a magical pull on her belly and heart, like the one she had felt when following Ansel into the forest but worse, way ... way worse. Like no matter what her head told her, her body would do its own thing. For the first time in her life, Michelle experienced a total loss of control and it made her want to throw up.

As she neared the light, it dispersed into dusty clouds of cream and gold, inviting her in, until the forest became invisible to her. Running became easier, as if there were no more bumps, no more unevenness underneath her feet. Fighting a queasy Alice-in-Wonderland-feeling in her gut, she looked down but saw nothing but milky powder from the waist down, her legs paddling into nothing. Whether they were still touching the ground, remained disturbingly unclear. She should've stayed with Ansel.

"A girl," a voice croaked.

"A human," a higher pitched voice said.

Definitely should've stayed with Ansel.

She wanted to protest. She wasn't a girl anymore and most people knew better than to call her that. She also wanted to stop cycling her legs like a madwoman but her body refused to obey her brain.

"That should be enough. Drop her here!" the croaky voice said.

"I dunno. She looks rather fragile to me."

"Then what? I'm not made of pixie dust, Leon."

"Oh come on, we have enough of the dusties, Laurel."

"Not enough to spill on a human, we haven't."

As the voices quarrelled, Michelle's body jolted, alternating rapidly between floating upward and being pulled down. By now, it had become impossible to keep her feet running so at least the mad cycling had stopped, but this pause gave her no peace, since her body seemed at the mercy of these unknown voices in the mist.

"Stop!" she yelled, "Please, stop!"

"By the Prince, have you two lost your mind? That's not how it's done," a third voice chimed in, "better get out some ropes!"

Michelle didn't like the sound of that. To her dismay, the heavenly music was instantly replaced by a snakelike hiss. From the mist, two sparkling ropes slithered towards her. She raised her hands in defence of her head just in time for the first rope to lash against her arms.  "Awtch!" Then the other one hit her legs, harsh as a leather whip, and folded her knees while snaking around her waist and bundling her up like a parcel.

"You're pretty. The Prince is going to like you." Hovering mere inches above her, the croaky voice gained a face, a wrinkled face with greenish, pale skin, pointy ears, and a sardonic smile around its lips. Vein-riddled wings rose high behind its back and claws grabbed the harness of sparkling rope that tied Michelle together.

More claws and two more faces joined in, carrying Michelle out of the milky cloud and into the starry, cold night. They were flying.

"Who are you and who's the Prince?" she asked, struggling to keep her wits about her.

"Who's the Prince? What a silly question. The Prince's the Prince, of course." the voice that summoned the ropes huffed.

"I'm Leon," the smallest creature said in a friendly tone, "and these two grumps are my brothers." He nodded at the one with the croaky voice, "Laurel", then circled his playful gaze to the third brother. If the amount of wrinkles was something to go on, this one was the oldest. "and Lank. Don't mind him! Mom put him in charge of the fetch and now he's super cranky. We're taking you to the Prince's midnight ball so you can join the dance. Oh woobabeebies, the midnight ball. You'll love it. I do. The court's so much fun. Boogaloolafun ... the string quartet ... the burning daisies." Leon seemed genuinely excited.

Fairytales from her childhood raged through Michelle's brain, the ones grandpa used to read to her, and a vague memory of 'The Lord of the Rings'-trilogy she watched with her high school sweetheart a long, long time ago, before she got buried elbows deep in academic non-fiction. Nothing she remembered matched her kidnappers, but the wings, the ears ... close enough.

"Are you elves .... or fairies?" she stuttered.

"Fairies?" The three of them exchanged surprised glances. "Elves?" They threw their little heads back to their bony shoulders and howled with laughter, not showing any further inclination to answer her question. At least they were clothed, she thought, remembering Ansel's nakedness, which was not a punishment to look at if she had to be fair, but these gnarled, bony things ... she suspected that their leaf-patterned tunics did her a kind service.

As he wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of a four-digit-claw, Laurel snickered, "the Prince is going to be so pleased with this one."

The way he said it, Michelle hoped the Prince wasn't going to eat her. "Can you loosen my bonds a bit?" she asked, all hope directed to Leon, who seemed to be the most friendly of the trio. "They cut unnecessary deep and the way my legs are folded hurts like hell."

"Boohoo ... poor, little human girl. As if we care about things like that." With a flick of his wrist, Lank strapped the bonds tighter, snagging all breath from her chest.

"I won't be able to dance if my limbs are stiff and sore. I bet your Prince won't like that." She could hardly get the words out with her knees pressed into her rib cage.

"Oh you'll dance just fine," Laurel said in a tone that matched the meanness of his smile, "when the court orchestra plays, all humans dance. Even the hundred year's old ones."

Not able to turn her head, she shot her eyes at Leon. "Please."

She wasn't sure what she was pleading for exactly. Preferably she wanted them to let her go, to wake up from this entire, damn nightmare, but if he would only loosen the ties a bit, that would be a nice start too.

Leon smiled sweet like an innocent child and for a moment hope surged in Michelle's chest, but it was effortlessly crushed the second he opened his mouth, "Funsies, all is going to be diddlydoo funsies. Once your feet get started with the footsies, you'll never want them to stop."

Somehow, Michelle doubted that.