“I am so glad we are going!” One of the sylphs flitted up out of nowhere, her pale-blue butterfly wings looking altogether out of place amid the falling leaves. “There are too many people in that place. And too many stinks! Ugh!”

“Are you coming with me all the way to the abbey, Flitter?” Giselle asked her. Flitter had been the only sylph to tag along from Neustadt. Giselle had no idea why she had followed the show across so many miles. Perhaps she was just so amused by the show she had decided it was worth the effort of coming along. Sometimes sylphs took on a notion and were actually able to hold onto it for months at a time.

“Yes. I want to meet your friends there. I think I might want to stay there. The meadow where I grew up is all under bricks now.” The sylph alighted on the rump of Lebkuchen (who took no notice of her) and sat there. “I want to see a beautiful meadow again. I would like it if there were not many humans about. I am tired of noise and I have not found anywhere else that I want to stay, yet.” Clearly she didn’t feel the cold, since even though Giselle was bundled up in that fine loden wool winter cape she had been given, with mittens and the hood up and a knitted scarf wrapped around her neck, the sylph was still clothed in little more than a few gauzy ribbons and her long blond hair.

“Well, I shall enjoy having you along. And if you like, you can travel in the wagon. I’ll part the wards for you. I don’t want you to end up somewhere strange, too tired to fly on. Winter is a bad time for that.” Giselle concentrated long enough to make a “door” in the wardings—one that she specified was only for the sylph—and let Flitter dart inside. Even though the sylphs didn’t seem to mind the cold, they all loved heat, and Giselle was fairly sure she would spend the day curled up over the stove, drowsing.

It would be nice to have her company. Already Giselle missed Rosa.