Disney Fairies: Tink, North of Never Land

by Kiki Thorpe

  Terence thought, I wish Tink could see this. “It’s brilliant!” he told Iridessa.

  She beamed at the compliment and threw two more pollen-filled bubbles into the air. They burst in golden sprays of light.

  “Wait!” Terence sprang to his feet. “I have an idea. Try using fairy dust.”

  Iridessa formed another ball of light. This time, Terence filled it with dust from his sack.

  The fairy-dust-filled bubble floated out of Iridessa’s hands even before she could throw it. It rose all the way up to the edge of the darkness.

  Just when Terence thought the bubble would drift into daylight and disappear, it exploded. Blue, violet, green, yellow, orange, red—the light shimmered with the bright colors of the rainbow.

  Terence and Iridessa watched in awe, the sparkles reflected in their eyes.

  “Got it!” Tink cried.

  She stepped back and watched the compass needle swing around. She was sure she’d finally fixed it. As Tink turned the compass, the needle pointed north. She’d fixed it, all right.

  She stretched her arms and sighed with pleasure. How she enjoyed seeing a job done right! She turned the compass a few more times, just to admire her work.

  Gradually, though, Tink became aware that something was missing. She checked to make sure she had her tinker’s hammer. Then she checked her other tools. They were all there.

  She looked around her workshop. Everything seemed to be in its place. The extra rivets were in their hanging basket. The little jars of glue lined the windowsill in a neat row. The silver bowl was back on its shelf, right where it had been before Terence knocked it off.

  Terence! Suddenly, Tink realized that he was what was missing. Usually he stopped by to visit. But she hadn’t seen him all day.

  He must be busy. After all, he has work to do, too, Tink thought.

  “I’ll drop by the fairy dust mill and see how he is,” she said. The mill was where Terence spent most of his time.

  Tink flew out the door. She followed the hill that sloped down toward the mill, which sat on the bank of Havendish Stream.

  She flew through the mill’s double doors. Inside, it was cool and dim. Tink saw several fairies and sparrow men at work. But Terence wasn’t among them.

  Tink flew back outside. She was surprised at how disappointed she felt.

  As she made her way back to the Home Tree, Tink saw a spark of light float up from a nearby field. Another spark followed.

  Fireflies? she wondered. No, that couldn’t be right. Fireflies only came out at night. Tink flew over to take a look.

  When she reached the field, she stopped and stared. In the center was a small clearing. Though the sun shone brightly overhead, the clearing was as dark as night. Within the darkness, bursts of light bloomed like flowers.

  Looking more closely, she made out two tiny figures on the ground. One was her friend Iridessa. Tink strained her eyes, then blinked in surprise. The other one was Terence! With each new explosion, he and Iridessa clapped an cheered.

  Tink hovered at the edge of the darkness, feeling strangely left out.

  THAT EVENING, TINK hurried to the courtyard of the Home Tree. The sun was already setting. Any minute, the story would begin. She didn’t want to be late.

  Dinner had just ended. It was time for the story-talent fairies to spin their tales. That night, it was Tor’s turn, and Tor was one of Tink’s favorite storytellers. He knew more about pixie lore than most fairies put together.

  The courtyard was filling with fairies and sparrow men. Tink looked around for Terence. They usually sat together during stories.

  More and more fairies arrived. They settled onto toadstools around the courtyard.

  Tink tugged her bangs. Where was Terence? If he didn’t get there soon, all the good seats would be taken!

  On the other side of the courtyard, Terence caught sight of Tink. The seat next to him was empty, and he wanted to call her over.

  But we aren’t friends anymore, he reminded himself.

  As Terence hesitated, he heard someone call his name. He looked around. Rosetta, a garden fairy, was hovering behind him.

  She pointed to the seat next to Terence. “Is someone sitting here?”

  Terence shook his head.

  Rosetta sat down. She carefully smoothed her rose-petal skirt. She fluffed her hair. Then she crossed her dainty ankles and folded her hands in her lap. With her long auburn curls, rosy cheeks, and elegant wings, Rosetta was one of the prettiest fairies in all of Pixie Hollow. She knew it, too.

  When she was finally settled, she turned to Terence. It was then that she noticed his sad expression.

  “Ah!” Rosetta gasped in horror.

  Terence leaped into the air. “What? What is it?” He thought maybe a fire ant had crawled onto his toadstool.

  “You shouldn’t frown like that. Your face could get stuck,” Rosetta told him gravely. “It happened to a fairy I know. Her face got stuck in a frown, and after that she always looked as sour as a stinkbug. That’s why I always smile. If my face ever gets stuck, at least I’ll know I’ll always look good.” To prove her point, she flashed a brilliant grin.

  Rosetta’s advice was lost on Terence. He never thought much about how he looked. He did notice Rosetta’s smile, though. It was so charming, he couldn’t help smiling back.

  At that very moment, Tink finally spotted Terence. Her mouth fell open in surprise. Terence hadn’t saved her a seat after all. He was sitting with Rosetta. And they looked very happy to be together!

  Tink felt a lump in the pit of her stomach. But before she could do anything, a hush settled over the crowd. The story was about to begin. Quickly, Tink looked around. All the seats were taken.

  “Pssst. Tink!”

  Fawn, an animal-talent fairy, waved at her. “You can share with me,” Fawn whispered.

  Tink flew down and squeezed herself in next to Fawn. As she did, she noticed a stinky smell.

  “What’s that smell?” she whispered to Fawn.

  “Oh, it’s probably me! I was playing tag with some skunks,” Fawn told her. “Didn’t get a chance to take a bath.”

  Tink nodded and held her breath. At least she had a seat.

  The storyteller Tor alighted in the center of the courtyard. He looked around with twinkling eyes. Then he began, “Long, long ago, before the Home Tree, even before Mother Dove, there was the Pixie Dust Tree.”

  Tink let out a small sigh. She knew the story of the Pixie Dust Tree well. It was one of her favorites.

  “In those days, Pixie Hollow was a great land,” Tor went on. “It stretched for miles. It covered mountains, forests, and rivers.”

  Tink mouthed the next words along with the storyteller: Too many years ago to count.

  “The Pixie Dust Tree stood at the center of it all,” said Tor. “The dust flowed endlessly from deep within its trunk. And because the dust was plentiful, so was the fairies’ magic….”

  As Tor spoke, the Pixie Dust Tree seemed to take shape before the fairies’ eyes. Tink saw every detail, from its spiraling branches to its sturdy roots. She could hear its leaves rustle. She could feel the breeze from the gusts of pixie dust that rose from its center. That was the magic of story-talent fairies. What- ever they described became, in that moment, real.

  Tor’s story wove a spell around his audience. The fairies saw Pixie Hollow as it once had been: purple mountains, crystal-clear streams, fields of sunflowers stretching as far as the eye could see. And everywhere, fairies flying, playing, and living happily.

  Then, suddenly, the scene darkened. An evil force threatened the fairies’ world. No storyteller would say its name out loud. They were afraid of calling it back again. So in Tor’s story, it appeared as a black cloud casting its shadow over Pixie Hollow.

  The fairies in the story knew their world was in danger. They used every bit of magic they had to protect it. But in the end, they couldn’t save everything.

  They watched helplessly as the dark cloud swallow
ed the Pixie Dust Tree.

  As brave as Tink was, she always found that part of the story hard to bear.

  Without thinking, she closed her eyes and reached out her hand to Terence.

  Her hand closed on nothing. Tink’s eyes opened. She’d forgotten. Terence wasn’t sitting next to her.

  Tink looked around. Fawn’s eyes were wet. So were the eyes of other fairies.

  “But in its place, the Home Tree grew,” Tor told them. “Fairies came from all over Pixie Hollow to live in the tree and make it their home. It brought the Never fairies together. And we found Mother Dove, who gave us fairy dust again.”

  The fairies saw the image of Mother Dove. Her feathers shimmered. After the Pixie Dust Tree had been destroyed, fairies had learned to make dust from the magical feathers Mother Dove shed.

  “The Pixie Dust Tree is long gone,” Tor told them. “But a bit of its dust still remains. It hangs in a cloud just over the cliffs on the Northern Shore of Never Land. You can see it on certain nights.”

  A sparkling cloud seemed to hang in the air around the listening fairies. As they watched, it began to fade. Finally, it disappeared.

  For a moment, the crowd was silent. Then one fairy sighed. Another stretched her wings. The spell was broken. The story was over.

  The crowd began to rise from their seats. A few of the music talents struck up a melody. Some of the fairies stayed to dance. Others headed back to the tearoom, hoping to find dessert.

  Tink heard Fawn’s stomach growl. “Sad stories always make me hungry,” Fawn explained. “Come with me to the tearoom?”

  “Sure,” said Tink. She glanced at Terence and added, “Maybe we should invite Terence and Rosetta, too.”

  “Good idea,” said Fawn. “Rosetta hates to miss dessert.”

  Together they flew toward Terence and Rosetta. But just as they reached them, the music fairies began to play a lively tune.

  Rosetta sprang up from her seat. “This is my favorite song. Let’s dance, Terence!”

  She grabbed his hands and pulled him into the air. In the wink of an eye, the two had danced away.

  TINK WAS SO SURPRISED, her glow sputtered. She watched Terence and Rosetta twirl through the air. They didn’t so much as glance in her direction.

  I didn’t want their company anyway! she thought. I have better things to do than watch two silly fairies dance.

  Ignoring Fawn’s surprised look, she whirled around and stormed off to her workshop.

  Inside, she slammed the door behind her. When that didn’t make her feel better, she kicked over the basket of rivets. They rolled to every corner of her tidy workshop, which only made Tink’s temper worse.

  “Every time I see Terence, he ignores me!” she fumed. She paced in the air. “Why, he practically goes out of his way to avoid me. And he hasn’t been by to visit since…since…”

  Oh.

  Tink sat down with a thump. Finally, it dawned on her: she’d told Terence to leave her alone, and that was exactly what he was doing.

  All the anger went out of her like air from a bellows. Within seconds, it was replaced by regret.

  I haven’t been very nice to Terence, she thought with a sigh. Her shoulders slumped. Losing a friend felt terrible.

  But she wasn’t one to mope for long. In Tink’s opinion, problems were like broken pots. There wasn’t one that couldn’t be fixed. She was, after all, the best pots-and-pans fairy in Pixie Hollow. Surely she could come up with a solution.

  A moment later, she’d thought of one.

  “I’ll win back his friendship!” she exclaimed. “I’ll show everyone what a good friend I am.” The idea made her spring into the air with excitement.

  “But how will I do it?” She began to pace again.

  It never occurred to Tink to say “I’m sorry.” Only Clumsies said that. She might have said, “I’d fly backward if I could.” But that didn’t occur to Tink, either. She was too busy thinking of bigger, flashier ways to show that she cared.

  “I’ll give him a present,” she said. “Something rare and wonderful.” Her mind swirled with possibilities. A pirates’ gold doubloon? Or a bunch of Never blooms with blossoms that never wilted?

  Tink shook her head. Those things were marvelous of course. But what would Terence care for a flower or a gold coin? No, she wanted to give him something that was right only for him.

  Terence is a dust talent, she mused. He loves fairy dust as much as I love pots and pans. But she couldn’t give him fairy dust. He already had all the dust he could ever want.

  Or did he? Tink remembered the end of Tor’s story: “The Pixie Dust Tree is long gone. But a bit of its dust still remains. It hangs in a cloud just over the cliffs on the Northern Shore of Never Land.”

  That was it! Pixie dust was just like fairy dust, only it came from a tree instead of Mother Dove. She could bring Terence dust from the Pixie Dust Tree!

  Tink imagined how Terence’s face would look when she gave him the last pixie dust in the world. How impressed he would be!

  The Northern Shore was far from Pixie Hollow. It might take her days to get there, and the journey was sure to be rough. But the challenge only made Tink more excited.

  “I’ll leave tonight,” she said. “I’ll need to bring food. And extra fairy dust to fly—”

  Tink’s eyes fell on the compass. Of course. She could take it with her. It would point her right to the Northern Shore. How wise she’d been to save the compass from Twire’s scrap pile!

  She began to pack, piling things on top of the compass—a sweater, a canteen, a sack of dried blueberries, a wool blanket, her spare dagger, a waterproof pouch to store her fairy dust in, some biscuits, a tin cup, a bag of tea . . .

  Tink stepped back. The heap of things towered nearly to her chest. How in Never Land was she going to carry it all?

  She snapped her fingers. “A balloon carrier!”

  Balloon carriers were large fairy-dust-filled balloons with hanging baskets. Fairies used them to carry heavy loads. Some were big enough to carry fifty fairies. Others were quite small, just the right size for a fairy, a compass, and a few other odds and ends.

  She knew she shouldn’t take a balloon carrier without telling anyone. But she was afraid that if Queen Clarion heard of her plan, she would forbid Tink to go. Besides, Tink reasoned, if other fairies knew, it might ruin the surprise for Terence. Fairies were terrible at keeping secrets.

  “I’ll be gone for just a few days,” she said. “I’m sure the others won’t even miss it.”

  Tink knew that the laundry fairies kept small balloon carriers anchored to roots inside the laundry room. The problem was getting one without anyone noticing.

  “I’ll have to borrow it after everyone goes to bed,” she whispered to herself.

  So, drawing her little stool up to the window, Tink settled down to wait.

  THE MOON WAS high in the sky. The Home Tree was dark and silent. Even the fireflies that lit Pixie Hollow at night had blinked out.

  As quietly as possible, Tink loaded the balloon carrier. Then she picked up the carrier cord and rose into the air. She circled the Home Tree, careful not to snag the balloon on low branches.

  She flew over the barn where the dairy mice slept, and continued up, until she was above the tree line. She skimmed along the tops of the trees. Every few minutes, she darted back to look at the compass. She loved to see the needle pointing north, telling her exactly which way to go.

  She’d been flying for a quarter of an hour when she looked down. Her heart sank. She was just crossing Havendish Stream.

  At this rate, it will take me weeks to reach the Northern Shore! she thought.

  But as luck would have it, the wind shifted in Tink’s direction. She felt the carrier bumping against her heels.

  Tink climbed into the basket. She let the wind speed her along. In no time, she had reached the edge of Pixie Hollow. Never Land’s forest spread out below her like a great dark sea.

  A moth flew up to the
basket. It danced around Tink, drawn by her glow. She waved her arms, and the moth flew away.

  Tink leaned back. High overhead, stars winked in the black sky. The basket gently rocked her. Her eyelids grew heavy.

  Within moments, she fell fast asleep.

  Tink awoke with a start. The balloon had stopped moving.

  She peeked over the side. The ropes that held the balloon to the basket were tangled in the branches of a large oak. The balloon must have drifted too low while she had been sleeping.

  Tink climbed out of the basket and landed on a branch. She began to tug at the ropes.

  Something snuffled behind her. She whirled around. A pair of red eyes stared at her from the darkness.

  Tink gasped and sprang into the air. Through the leaves of the tree, she could see more creatures in the branches around her. Each way Tink turned, she saw another pair of glowing eyes. She was trapped!

  One of the creatures began to move along a branch toward her. Taking a deep breath, Tink flared her glow like a flame, hoping to scare it away.

  It worked. The creature hissed and retreated to the other end of the branch. By the light of her brightened glow, Tink saw the long, pointed nose of a possum.

  Tink tried to remember everything she knew about possums. They didn’t eat fairies––did they? Fawn had once told her a story about a possum, though Tink couldn’t recall the details. Oh, why hadn’t she paid more attention!

  One thing Tink did know was that she was still in trouble. The possums were bigger than she was, and she had dropped into their home. If they felt threatened, Tink was in danger.

  Cautiously, Tink landed again on the branch. Keeping an eye on the largest possum, she began to pull at the tangled ropes. Every time a possum moved, she flared her glow.

  Just as Tink grabbed the last rope, she heard a low growl. The largest possum had made up her mind. She didn’t want Tink in her tree.

  The possum bared her sharp teeth. Tink gave a desperate tug, and the rope came free. Quickly, she grabbed the carrier cord. She darted toward an opening in the branches, dragging the balloon.