At the chalet pump, Cocot washed her greasy hair and dirty hands and face quickly with the frigid water. As she rinsed the soap suds away, the raspberry bushes caught her attention. The bushes were flourishing—they had the southwest side of the chalet and were exposed to the most sunlight, and moonlight, possible. Most of the berries were dark pink and plump; ready to eaten with crème double and crispy sweet meringues. Although, her mother had always eaten them straight off the bush, plain and simple.

"Why do the brambles need the moonlight, Mother?" Cocot asked the pump, wringing her hair with a ratty towel.

But they didn't need the moonlight. Cocot did—for the fountain, of course.

A low plodding from the dirt lane interrupted her thoughts. She turned in time to see Hector striding though the gate and straight for her carrots.

"Hector! No, no, no!" She rushed over to head him off.

Daniel came jogging up the lane, stopping short in front of the open gate when he saw her.

"Hey, Daniel," she said, leading Hector to the grassy patch near the raspberries. "Thank you for bringing him home. I went by earlier, but you weren't back yet."

"Actually, I didn't bring him home. He got out of his stall somehow—I was going to come tomorrow, but he got free and was almost in the forest by the time I saw him. I couldn't catch up. He's sprightlier with his new shoes on. Good thing your gate was unlatched or he would have knocked it over. Like the other two fences he walked through."

"There wasn't any trouble, I hope," she said, alarmed until Daniel gave a half smile and shook his head. She twisted the wet strands of her hair together; her back was soaked and water was dripping on her pants were the ends of her hair touched them. She knew that with her hair plastered down, her ears looked ridiculous, but there wasn't anything for it. "He behaved himself at the stables, at least?"

Daniel leaned on the fence from his spot in the road, scratching nervously at a fence post. "Can I ask you something that might sound strange?"

"Yes," she said, taking a couple of steps towards him to reach the inside of the fence.

He glanced up, a frown line on his brow and his bright blue eyes moving back and forth between her and Hector. "Have you noticed anything odd about your horse?"

"What do you mean by odd? I've never had any other horses to compare him to." A flutter raced through her stomach—what had Hector done?

"Well...well, it was just strange because I expected the men at the stables to ask where he'd come from or joke about how old and beat-up he looks, but it was though they didn't even see him. They ignored him, even when they put feed in the mangers for the other horses. Have you noticed anything like that?"

"I can't say I have, no," she answered. I thought it was just me they didn't see. "Probably, they were busy and had other things on their minds. So the shoes fit?"

"Yeah, actually they seem fine. They might not last as long as iron ones, but since he mostly walks on dirt," he said, not finishing his sentence.

"One less thing to buy."

"They'll have to be changed or refitted again in a couple of months, but I can do it at the farm next time. I have all the tools now, and it's easy."

"You don't have to do anything for me," she said.

"You weeded the garden, didn't you?"

"It's nothing. I was bored waiting."

"Well, thanks for that. And thanks for milking Tata, and gathering the eggs, and mending the chicken coop. I'm not sure how you managed that; it looks brand new." He swiped at the hair falling in his eyes.

"Oh, I'm afraid I can't take credit for the eggs or the coop or milking the...Tata."

"The goat," he said.

"Tata, the goat," she said. "I only did the garden. Farmer Ruffieux must have done the other work."

"I doubt it."

"Then it must have been the Bounet Rodzos. Have you been leaving out bowls of cream for the cats?" she asked.

"No," he said with a chuckle. "Is this fence new?" He leaned over to inspect the fence, saying something she didn't catch about the wood. He started walking the fence length away from the gate.

"Yeah, it is," she said, keeping pace with him on the opposite side of the fence. He obviously did not see what she saw: the saplings bent in half and covered with flowering vines, their branches creating the posts. Instead, he commented on the fine larch wood boards. She shrugged. "Some friendly acquaintances built it for me. All they asked in return were a couple of plates of cookies."

"And that's your horse's stall? It's new, too, I take it," he said, reaching the corner of the fence. Hector's pen, which was nestled against the workroom wall, was visible from there.

"Yes, but it's not quite finished."

"Your acquaintances did all this for you? For some cookies?" he asked, impressed.

"I make really good cookies," she said, "and cakes. Why don't you come over for tea in a couple of days? Or coffee, if you prefer, but you'll have to bring some."

"I prefer coffee, actually. I was wondering; I would like to come by soon, but....I was reading the book of myths you loaned me. The stories are really good. Did you...did you have time to start my book?"

"Only to flip through and look at the constellations. I love the pictures they make; some are even from the Greek mythology," she said, wondering if he had accepted her invitation or not.

"Yeah, yeah, they are. Coquelicot, in two nights time, it's the new moon. For three nights in a row, starting tomorrow, the moon is dark and the stars are the brightest. What I'd like to know is, would you go to the Sonlomont hill with me to watch the stars one night?"

"To the hill with you at night?" Cocot asked. Her heart skipped a beat and then was racing so fast she could not think straight. She wasn't supposed to out at night, it wasn't safe. But Daniel was inviting her; he had used her name for the first time. Could she refuse?

"Only if the sky is clear, though," he said, eyes fixed on hers. "Today is too cloudy, but if it clears, then tomorrow or the next two nights will be perfect for seeing the stars."

"But we have to go late at night?"

"It has to be fully dark. I would come by at about ten o'clock, then we could hike up to the top of the Sonlomont."

"But it's dangerous at night," she protested. "We could lose our way."

"I'll bring a lantern. I won't let us get lost, I promise. And we'll only go if the weather is good. What could possibly happen?"

"I don't know. I'd love to see the stars with you, but going outside at night—"

"Say you'll consider it then, Coquelicot."

"Cocot," she said.

He frowned in a silent question.

"My mother called me coh-coh for short."

"Will you consider going, Cocot?" he asked again.

"All right. I can't promise, but I will think it over."

"Good." He started walking down the road. "If I come and knock, will you open the door?"

Cocot paused, startled by this question. From her dream, she heard the three knocks to the inner door in the chalet and the cold voice telling her to open the door.

"Why do you ask me that?" she whispered.

"I mean, if I come all the way here, will you answer the door?"

"Of course," she forced herself to say. Daniel was not the shade of Jean-Baptist. He had nothing to do with her dreams of the hall under the hill. "I would always open the door for you."

"Really? Good, then I'll see you soon. Bye," Daniel said. He backed away, hands shoved deep in his pockets. "I'll knock. Just watch for good weather!"

"Goodbye!" she called. She waited by the gate until he had disappeared down the winding road. It had been on the tip of her tongue to warn him not to take the shortcut in the woods since it was nearly dark—he should take the stairs only during the day—but she couldn't remember why. She drifted over to where Hector was drinking from the tin basin.

"Let's have a look at your new shoes, old boy," she said. She crouched down and patted a foreleg and he obediently raised his hoof for her to hold. The bottom of the hoof was clean and trimmed, and the shoe fit his irregular shape perfectly. The sores on his legs were oozing and pink, but she didn't see any black maggots from the Huntsman's magic. "It's nearly dark, Hector, we should both be indoors."

She clucked at him until he followed her to his pen. The saplings had grown to form two walls and a roof, but there was still no door. She crisscrossed a rope across the opening so he would stay put, unless he really wanted out, she thought ruefully. Saying goodnight, she leaned her forehead against his for a minute. She was glad he was home; she felt safer knowing he was there.

After double checking the rope's knot, she turned to walk back on the stepping stones. She hopped to each one, counting as she went: one, two, three. The sensation of being watched chilled her.

There were four shadowy forms standing behind the gate, which seemed to have closed and latched itself. Her vision blurred and she blinked rapidly. They were great fairies—they were watching her.

One of them, the male fairy in front was familiar somehow; he made her think of an empty well, built flush to a cavern's floor, its depths hidden by black shadows.

The three other fairies were young maidens in brightly colored tunics and fitted under dresses similar to Cocot's mother's dress. Each wore her hair intricately braided and tied up with ribbons. The maidens began whispering and giggling excitedly as soon as Cocot noticed them, but the male fairy stared at her in silence.

Cocot was at a loss for what to do.

The maiden in blue laid her hand on the male fairy's shoulder. "Could we not go in and see her closer?"

Her words trickled from her lips in a language that Cocot recognized, but was not sure how.

"The runes on the gate warn trespassers not to enter. You can see the creature fine from here," he answered in the same lilting tongue.

A memory sprang free, followed by several more, each flowing in and out of the other; her mother singing and telling her stories about fairies in a rambling, rushing language of a mountain stream, she was standing in the hall under the hill surrounded by great fairies who spoke of her and to her in this same language, the king was telling the captain he had lost all his family and the captain reminding him he still had his nephew. The nephew was the fairy standing at her gate.

"But your magic is stronger than a Bounet Rodzo warning!" protested the maid in emerald green.

"You promised we would see her if we kept you company," said the maid in violet and gold, pouting her lips.

"And so you have seen her. You must return to the hall now and tell no one where you have been," the king's nephew told them sternly.

This set them in a whirlwind of agitation. The first one whispered to the second before spinning to whisper to the third. Copying the first maiden, the other two maidens began to spin and whisper in turn; gazes shifting from Cocot, to the gate, to the king's nephew, to each other and to Cocot again. They resembled wind-up toy soldiers, but with fluid movements. Or puppets on a stage performing a twirling dance before bowing to the applause.

"Ainsi font, font, font les petites marionnettes," echoed Fanchon's voice. "Trois petits tours, et puis s'en vont!"

"Go now!" he ordered them.

The puppet-like maidens turned three times and took their leave, unhappy to be sent away so quickly.

"Tell no one we came here today; the king's displeasure would be dreadful," the king's nephew warned. They pouted and linked arms to go. He beckoned for Cocot to approach.

She took a couple of hesitant steps forward, wishing Hector was not in his pen or that at least Soufflé was present.

"I am sorry if we scared you," the fairy said in French. "The maidens followed me without asking, but I told them to go and not disturb you any further."

It was only a little lie, but Cocot wondered why he said it. What did he stand to gain? Her trust—by making her think it was an accident that the maidens had come to look at the creature in her box? She wouldn't let him know she understood the fairy tongue.

She shivering in evening breeze. "Why have you come here?"

"To talk with you, and perhaps to come to an understanding," he said. He drew a bundle from a leather satchel. "You dropped this in the passageway. It once belonged to my cousin Farafell."

He held her mother's hood over the gate and Cocot stepped on the remaining stones to take it.

"Will you open the gate and let me in to talk to you on your grounds?" he asked.

"If I say no?"

"I will respect your wishes. You should know, however, that the gate cannot prevent someone from entering. Also, I believe you will remember our conversation better inside your fence. If I am not mistaken, you do not remember me or your audience with the king of the fairies, my uncle."

"You may come and stand in the garden and talk," she said, not letting him know that she could, in fact, remember disjointed images and bits of phrases from her time in the hall; it was another one of her secrets.

When she reached for the gate, it swung open and the king's nephew came in to stand on one of the stones. Before he could speak, however, Hector snorted loudly from the side of the house, stomping several times. Then he pushed free from his pen and trotted to the garden, snorting and shaking his mane.

The fairy grabbed Cocot, yanking her sideways.

"Stay back!" he hissed. He held a gleaming dagger in his hand.

*** Could we not go in and see the creature closer? ***