The valley slept beneath a curtain of cloud, a place tucked between mountains that most maps forgot. Nothing hostile lived there no hunters, no human, no storms that stayed for long. Only soft winds, warm moss, and trees that whispered like old friends. And one evening, the Creator returned.
She did not arrive in a blaze of light or grand declaration. One moment the valley was quiet, the next she simply stepped onto the moss, bare armed, wearing her usual simple clothes. Her hair was down, long and loose, swaying only when the breeze wished to touch it. She looked like someone who had wandered out of a dream rather than made one.
Her arrival stirred the wings.
From the ferns and tree hollows came the small folk, tiny beings no taller than a human hand from wrist to fingertip.
Their wings shimmered like thin petals or insect glass, scattering sunset into dancing colors.
“Creator!” one sang, nearly tipping sideways from excitement.
“She came back!” another gasped, before tripping over its own feet in midair.
A few landed on her shoulders, two in her hair, and one balanced carefully on her hand as if afraid she might vanish again.
“You missed three whole flowerings” said the bold one on her hand. “That’s a very long time for us.”
She dipped her head in apology.
“I know. I wandered farther than I meant to. I’m glad to see you”
This satisfied them. A ripple of happy chimes filled the air and fairy laughter, light and crystalline.
They led her deeper into the grove, wings brushing her cheeks as they flew.
They reached the clearing at the center, where she had first Created them long ago. Sunlight still pooled in the grass as the day slipped toward evening.
“Look what we made” said a fairy perched on her shoulder, pointing proudly.
At the base of an old tree stood a cluster of tiny houses, nut shells carved into rooms, acorn caps for roofs, strings of spider silk forming bridges.
The Creator knelt to inspect them, hair spilling forward.
“They’re beautiful.”
“We made them after you left,” whispered another fairy on her knee.
“So you would have something new to see when you returned.”
She smiled. Soft and small, the kind that lived behind her eyes instead of on her mouth.
They showed her everything.
the carved shells, the glowing mushrooms, the painted beetles, the newest hatchlings with wings like powdered moonlight.
They brought her berries flavored like citrus, honey, and unopened flowers. They argued over who got to sit on her head.
When she finally lay back on the moss to watch the sky turn violet, many of them curled up along her arms and in her hair, their wings folding like sleepy butterflies.
One tiny fairy, barely awake, rested on her collarbone and murmured
“You look less lonely now”
“Do I?” she asked softly.
“Yes. When you came before, you were quiet in the sad way. Today you’re quiet in the thinking way”
She brushed a finger along its back, careful not to touch the wings.
“I had a long journey. Endings were involved”
“We don’t like endings” the fairy yawned. “Only beginnings”
She looked up at the first stars.
“Then I will simply have to make more beginnings”
“Good” the fairy mumbled, already half asleep.
Night deepened. Lantern moths floated between the trees, painting everything in soft pale glows.
When she finally rose to leave, the fairies stirred only enough to flutter around her head like sparks.
“Will you return?” asked several voices at once.
She brushed hair behind her ear and answered honestly “Yes.”
They demanded a promise, not grand or cosmic, just one that mattered in the way small things do. And she gave it.
“I will come back”
This settled them. Wings folded. Eyes blinked shut. The valley exhaled.
She walked out without fanfare, without rending space or waking stars. Just a quiet step, and then another. When she was gone, the fairies settled into their little homes beneath the roots and leaves, whispering excitedly about beginnings until sleep finally claimed them.
And in the valley of small wings, the night was very gentle.