My nature was finally kicking in by the time I’d ambled through the untamed woods to the well-trodden road. I began to be curious. It offered me a shred of hope, a comfort to hang on to. I was always curious. That wasn’t new. I had so much new to deal with, but this I could cuddle up to.

“Stella?” My soprano voice was froggy. Like it hadn’t yet woken from this Michael-less nightmare.

“Yes, Storykeeper?” She turned to look at me, and hovered a moment. Clearly, she was surprised at hearing my voice.

Suddenly I was embarassed. Needlessly. Every creature I’d encountered in Fae had regarded me with deference. I was essential to their way of life. The words managed to work themselves out of my tired, indifferent mouth. “Every creature has a story.”

By now, I’d caught up to her. On impulse, I held out my cupped hands, and she sat in them. Her tiny head cocked, letting me know she was listening.

“Every creature has a story. And it’s my job to keep them all.”

She nodded.

“So what’s yours?”