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Milori watches the celebrations, breathing through the relief and excitement, letting the fear slowly bleed out of him. The sight of his winter fairies flying in celebration with the warm fairies makes his chest ache, happiness and envy and sadness and delight twisting in his heart.
He is so wrapped up in his thoughts that he does not see Periwinkle look down and beckon at her sister, still on the ground, still wearing her coat. He does not see Tinkerbell look away, and he does not see Periwinkle’s smile fade in concern. He only is released from his thoughts at the sound of a shout, his eyes snapping to the sight of Tinkerbell crumpling to the ground. She lands wrong, on her side, and her face twists in agony as she screams a second time, the sound ripping through the air.
All around, fairies freeze in the air, hovering in confusion and concern, not knowing what is happening. Milori feels frozen himself, Clarion’s hand tightening painfully around his arm, horror coursing through his body, the thing he knows but doesn’t know hovering like a flame on the edges of his mind. Pain suddenly shoots through his back, harsher than it’s been in years. He wants to rip his cloak out of Clarion’s arms and wrap it around himself. He wants to run and hide. He can’t move.
Nobody moves. Tinkerbell is on the ground gasping in agony, and nobody moves. Milori knows this must only last a few seconds, but they stretch like hours. He should move. His legs are stuck. He needs to move. His back aches.
Out of the corner of his eyes, Milori glimpses something falling, but he cannot rip his eyes away from the fairy on the ground. A millisecond later and the falling object pulls up too sharply, the purple blur becoming a fairy with wild eyes and wild hair, her knees buckling as she lands too hard on the ground.
The fairy is on her knees beside Tinkerbell. Her mouth is moving, but Milori does not hear words. There is a storm in his ears. Tinkerbell is still gasping wet breaths, tears leaking from her eyes, her arms reaching up to the fairy above her. The fairy grabs Tinkerbell’s flailing hands and holds them to her chest, pulling Tinkerbell up to sit and rocking back and forth with her. Tinkerbell lays her forehead on the fairy’s shoulder and sobs, and the sight is too familiar for Milori to bear.
The storm recedes, and Milori sees Periwinkle hit the ground at the same moment he pulls his arm from Clarion’s grasp and starts to run across the slowly melting ice. He is at their side in seconds, his hand falling heavily on the wind fairy’s shoulder. She glares at him, her grey eyes watery and her own sharp wings flying open in defiance.
“We have to take her coat off,” Milori speaks as gently as he has the capacity for, and the fairy’s eyes widen, devastation rippling across her face as she lets herself know what she knows. The display of emotion lasts only a second before the fairy sets her face in determination, her eyes still full of fear but her hands steady as she pulls them from Tinkerbell’s.
“Vidia, no,” Tinkerbell whimpers as the fairy lets go. “Don’t, don’t, please, Vidia, please,” she pleads. The fairy, who must be called Vidia, looks to Milori in panic, and he reaches for Tinkerbell’s hands himself, clasping them between his own. Vidia looks at him warily, but Tinkerbell has gone quiet again.
Tinkerbell’s small hands clench in his as Vidia slowly peels the coat off her, letting it fall to the ground. Milori pulls Tinkerbell to her feet as it does so, her wings released from their confines at last. Vidia zips to Tinkerbell’s other side in less than a second, taking Tinkerbell’s hands back in hers, leaving Milori to stare at the tear cutting its way through Tinkerbell’s left wing. His back aches. Periwinkle appears next to him, letting out a soft, “oh,” at the sight, her sadness laid out and apparent in the one word.
Tinkerbell props her chin on Vidia’s shoulder, laughing softly in shock. “You know the ironic thing, Vid?” Tinkerbell is asking between sniffles and giggles.
“What’s that, Tink?”
“I figured it out!” Tinkerbell shouts in Vidia’s ear. The wind fairy winces, and Tinkerbell giggles again. “I figured it out,” she repeats in a loud whisper. And her face screws up again, sobs mingling with her giggles, and she smushes her face into Vidia’s cheek.
“Hey,” Vidia says softly. “What’d you figure out?” She reaches up to grasp Tinkerbell’s neck with her hand, slipping her fingers into yellow hair.
Tinkerbell pulls back after a second. “The frost,” she starts, sniffing. “It keeps warm things safe from cold. Like the Tree. So,” she ducks her head and laughs again. “If we frost the warm fairies’ wings, they’ll be safe to go in Winter.” Her speech over, her laughter devolves back into soft little sobs, and she buries her head again in Vidia’s shoulder.
Milori looks up slowly, the shock he feels mirrored clearly in Clarion’s eyes. She laughs once, in disbelief. “In all our years,” she said in wonder. “And we never once thought…” She shakes her head. Periwinkle gasps in realization behind him. Vidia continues to hold Tinkerbell, but her hands are still in surprise. Milori doesn’t know what to think except what idiots they have been. Because Tinkerbell is right. It’s almost certain to work.
Vidia suddenly grins and pushes Tinkerbell away from her by the shoulders, holding her steady to look into her eyes. “You, Tink, are a genius,” she says firmly, and she ducks her head to kiss Tinkerbell softly on the forehead. “And I love you.”
Tinkerbell smiles brightly, her eyes red and watery and full of pain and love and grief. “I know that, Vid!” she hiccups on a laugh-sob. “Love you too, you drama queen!” She pats Vidia clumsily on the arm, her smile still on her face.
Vidia’s smile turns soft. She looks up to Clarion and Milori and all the fairies behind them. “I am taking her to the healing fairies now,” she announces, loudly. “And nobody is going to stop me.” She glares at the crowd in warning. “Understand?”
Clarion smiles the soft smile she saves for the fairies she is most proud of and motions the two of them off. Vidia nods her head in gratitude and hooks her arms under Tinkerbell’s, lifting her into the air carefully.
Milori watches a wind fairy fly off, so slowly it must be painful for her, carrying a tinker fairy with a broken wing in her arms. He watches a winter fairy fly after them in concern for her warm fairy sister. He accepts the cloak the love of his life gives back to him. He doesn’t put it on. And he smiles.