Children born of fairy stock ( Read more... )

My "muns" (which is to say, the grey and listless creature to which my moods and whims are bound, and the frowzy little know-it-all he insists upon being enamored with) have been taking a class in folklore from some scholar on the subject. Time-consuming, certainly, but enlightening in its own way--it's fascinating to hear the humans speculate and ( Read more... )

I don't like being in the world of the humans. I escaped into Arcadia when they were still in caves, and I've never wished to be back. Oh, I'll send my storms out into their fragile little world, but storms are nothing but air. I'll invade their dreams, but I can only be in one at a time, and it's the dreams of the world that matter ( Read more... )

The Stolen ChildWhere dips the rocky highland ( Read more... )