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Quicksilver’s home was buried deep in an immense forest. Tall straight gum trees soared into the blue sky dwarfing even humankind. Humans had respect for this ancient place and the sound of their cutting machines had not been heard for many years. The fairy folk had striven hard in whisper and gentle communion with human hearts to show them the timeless beauty of these ancient lands. Slowly, some listened, and now this, their home, lay nestled in a sanctuary place, a place as still and deep as the ancient lands remembered in their stories.
The woods were quiet, shrouded in the dark clouds of night. Most dwellings were shuttered away, their occupants snoring, snorting, dreaming, lying still in the calm of sleep. Even the trees seemed to be at rest, the creaks and groans of their branches softened to muted whispers and rustles.
Suddenly the full moon came out from behind gathering clouds and in the soft silver radiance of its light, a small village was illuminated.
Here there was movement. The lights were on in several houses and winged messengers were flitting across the sky. The messengers were small birds, tiny bats and dancing graceful, winged small people. Humankind call small people fairies, and the two races have lived together since the dawn of time. This was a fairy place, beyond the realms of humankind and in this place, a wonderful story was beginning.