Darkling Green. Kim Thompson

      The Winter Games fell on a cold, overcast Saturday. Willa came over in the morning, opening the front door and ducking reflexively under the chandelier before realizing it was suddenly a full foot above her head. Not just the chandelier — the ceiling itself was higher. The main hall seemed to be expanding upward.

      Nothing surprises me about this place anymore, she thought with a smile, as she stepped around Miss Trang into the parlour. The house was quiet and empty, but she could hear hoots of laughter and cheering coming from the backyard. Willa peeked into the bowl on the mantle and was glad to see a healthy bundle of knitted scarf.

      Good, Mab has been keeping up, she thought. She stood in the sunshine of the parlour, breathing in the silence, and had a sudden strange feeling that the peace would not last long. She sighed and went out into the yard.

      The spectators were gathered: Belle in her wheelchair and the others in lawn chairs, everyone bundled up in mufflers and blankets. They were all looking down into the empty pool. At one end, a snowdrift sloped from the edge of the pool down to the bottom, where a slick of ice stretched to the opposite end of the pool. Here the fairies were skating, an entrancing sight as they swooped and twirled about. All was quiet at the moment save for the thin sounds of fairy fiddling and the scrape of skate blades on ice. The music and skaters swept to a dramatic finish, and the audience erupted in applause. Then followed an awkward moment as the judges couldn’t agree on a winner. There was an argument over whether the best leap of the competition — Honeycup’s jaw-dropping 3,240-degree rotation in midair, nine complete turns — had been aided by wing flaps, and whether or not that should be allowed. The spectators chimed in with their opinions, and finally Honeycup’s jump was allowed and she received her gold medal.

      Next was a thrilling mouse-sled race along a sharply curving course cut through the woods. The tiny animals threw themselves into the race with abandon; behind them the sleds bounced and crashed along, the fairies hanging on for dear life. At every corner, a fairy or two was flung right off, to the delight of the crowd. Every mouse completed the race, but the only fairy still on board at the finish line was plucky little Bergamot, so she was declared the winner.

      A target had been painted on the stable wall for the Sharp Things Target Shoot. This event was, of course, Tengu’s brainchild. The object was to hurl any sharp object at the target from the other side of the yard. Tengu, Robert, Baz, and four of the dwarves competed, though they were too impatient to properly wait their turn, so there was a steady, terrifying volley of darts, knives, forks, axes, ninja stars, swords, picks, arrows, and corkscrews flying across the yard in the general direction of the stable. All spectators fled the scene, preferring to watch from the safety of the kitchen window. When the competitors ran out of things to throw, the stable wall was such a scarred mess that no clear winner could be determined, despite much grumbling from those involved.

      Willa moved with the others back to the pool for the bobsled race. She saw Horace gazing up at the sky and looked up to see the clouds bubbling and breaking up, slipping away at great speeds to reveal clear blue sky.

      “That’s weird,” muttered Willa, taking her place poolside.

      Eight bobsleds, carved from smooth driftwood and each holding three fairies in walnut shell helmets, lined the pool’s edge, at the top of the snowdrift that sloped down to the bottom of the pool.

      Sarah flew around searching for a good vantage point, finally settling onto Willa’s shoulder. Willa eyed the racers with concern.

      “Are they all going at once? I thought bobsleds usually went one at a time.”

      “Oh, this way is quicker,” said Sarah. “And more exciting.”

      “What happens when they hit the ice at the bottom? Has anyone tested this course?” Willa asked nervously.

      “I have no idea!” Sarah grinned.

      When all the teams were in place, Mab, wrapped luxuriously in a robe that looked suspiciously like dryer lint, stepped up to call the start.

      “On your mark, get set, GO!” Thrusting her finger into the sky, Mab shot a spray of sparks that snapped and popped overhead as the bobsleds plummeted down the icy slope. An excited cheer went up. A sudden warm breeze tickled around Willa’s ears and neck, and as she watched, the ice surface at the bottom of the run glistened and shone, melting instantly. The carefully groomed slope began to run with water, and the bobsledders found themselves riding a river. Every time they banked for a turn, a spray of water went up. It was looking more like a water skiing competition than a bobsled race, and they hit the bottom with a huge splash. The bobsleds sank immediately, and sputtering fairies staggered out of the water, throwing off their helmets in disgust.

      The crowd hushed and looked around in surprise. Snowbanks were shrinking away. Great clumps of snow fell from the trees, splattering onto the ground, and there was a sudden chitter of birdsong. Above them the last wisps of cloud slipped out of sight, leaving nothing but bright blue sky. Squinting in the sunshine, Willa turned questioningly to Belle, who shrugged. Horace, too, was speechless.

      Sarah let out a gasp. Willa turned to see two large brown hares sitting at the corner of the house. They were identical to the one she had seen before, and they wore the same golden sun pendants.

      The air grew warmer still. Everyone stared as the hares stepped aside to make way for four more hares carrying two long poles that supported a fairy-sized carriage, ornately carved in gold. They were followed by a dozen fairies walking behind. The Eldritch fairies, all females, were very woodsy, with garments roughly fashioned from leaves, twigs, and moss. This group, on the other hand, was made up entirely of male fairies, all in glittering medieval dress, and dripping with jewels.

      The rabbits set the carriage on the ground, and they and the fairies all bowed low as a curtain drew aside and a glittering figure stepped out of the carriage.

      It was a fairy. His long golden hair flowed in the warm breeze as he revealed his noble profile. He was brilliantly attired in yellow silk, with precious gems sparkling at his throat, and he held a fresh green fiddlehead staff. He seemed to glow from within. The noble figure stepped forward, leaving green, grassy footprints in the snow. He paused at the edge of the pool.

      “Hello,