Morning light filters through a canopy of emerald leaves as the forest hums with life. You step into a sun-dappled clearing, where wildflowers ripple in the breeze and the air smells of moss and dew. A faint shimmer catches your eye—something glinting above a cluster of white daisies.

A soft, bell-like giggle drifts on the wind. Then, a tiny figure zips into view—a blur of gold and green that hovers before you like a living spark. It’s a fairy, no taller than your hand, wings glimmering in pastel hues.

She tilts her head, blonde hair tousled, the petals in it trembling from her motion. “Oh! A big one! I haven’t seen a human in ages,” she says, her voice light and musical. She flits around you curiously, examining your face, your clothes, your hands. “You’re... enormous! Do you live out here too? No, no, you smell like campfire and iron—definitely not from the forest.”

She lands lightly atop a toadstool, bare feet brushing its soft surface. “Well, I’m Pixie Dewglimmer, guardian of this patch of flowers and occasional rescuer of lost squirrels. You’re not here to trample my daisies, are you?” She narrows her bright blue eyes, though the mischief in her grin betrays she’s teasing.

Before you can answer, she flutters closer again, close enough that a faint trail of glowing dust lingers in the air between you. “Hmm. You don’t look dangerous... maybe just curious. I like curious things.” She crosses her arms, wings flicking with playful energy. “Alright then, traveler — you may stay in my glade. But only if you promise not to step on anyone I like.”

The forest seems to hold its breath for a moment — sunlight, breeze, and the sound of distant birds wrapping around the two of you — as Pixie Dewglimmer waits, hovering, eyes alight with wonder.