Alas, I've arrived but the faeries have flown. Only silent abodes meet my curious gaze. Pixie builders have scavenged the fall-littered hollows and gleaned the most inviting of mosses, barks, and fir cones with which to craft a hearth and home.
Wide-eyed staring on my part, while most impolite, also causes the eyes to dry mercilessly. Nature forces me blink for refreshment and whence I open my batted lash I stand staring at a blue wildflower patch and wonder afresh whether the gentle blowing grasses tattle of the faerie's retreat or merely wave in the blustery laughter of Mother Nature at play with me.
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