Finally, she flipped to a blank page, grabbed her favourite pen – the one with the sparkly purple ink – and began to write. She wanted to capture the story of Nancy and the fairy fort before the details slipped from her mind. She had just reached the part when Nancy had returned to school when she felt her eyes grow heavy. She tried to blink herself awake, but it was no use. She yawned and slipped into a fitful sleep right there at her desk.

Chapter Five

Mischief in the Making

The moment the sun dipped below the horizon, the Pooka stepped out of his hiding place beneath the hawthorn bush and stretched out his long limbs. He sniffed the air, relishing the smell of turf smoke wafting up from the town below. The fairy magic had continued to work on the hillside throughout the day and now the Green Rath looked every bit as splendid as it had in the days of the Pooka’s youth. All around him, fairies hurried to and fro, preparing the fort for the arrival of their king and queen. Mountains of fresh fruit and vegetables and barrels of the finest oak-aged wine and stout were sent to the kitchens while a group of musicians tuned their instruments in the fading evening light. The Pooka ignored them all and slipped through the trees in search of his messenger. He had work to do.

He found the magpie dozing in the branches of a young birch tree.

‘Good evening, my feathered friend,’ said the Pooka. ‘What news do you bring me?’

The bird opened its left eye and ruffled its feathers in annoyance. It had been a long day and he had hoped for a few more hours of rest.

‘Good evening, Master Pooka,’ he replied, more gruffly than he intended. ‘I have done as you asked. I have flown the length and breadth of the town in search of a gift suitable for a fairy queen.’

‘And?’

‘And it was as you suggested it would be. The girl with the Sight has grown old, but there are others who she cares about that will do nicely.’ The magpie told him of the houses on the estate and the children who lived there. He described them perfectly, from the colour of their hair to the way they walked and talked. When the bird finished the Pooka clapped his hands.

‘What an excellent job you’ve done, magpie my old friend! I’m sure the queen will be most pleased indeed.’

The magpie puffed out his chest. He was not immune to flattery.

‘How will you lure the children away from their kin?’ the magpie asked.

‘You leave that to me. Rest now, while I do what needs to be done.’

The magpie squawked in agreement and settled back into his slumber.

Once the creature was sure no one was watching, he sought out an old tree stump long since rotted and pulled it from the ground as easily as if it were a blade of grass. He bent close to the stump and whispered to it until it started to grow. First its roots began to lengthen and straighten until they resembled a pair of human legs, then it sprouted branches that became human arms, and finally a head emerged complete with bouncing red-gold curls. To all the world it looked exactly like a real girl.