Aunt Twill sighed dramatically and swished about where she sat in the lake shallows. Aunt Twill did most things dramatically. She was the naiad of the Woodle River, and it was a bit of a dramatic river, full of small but excitable waterfalls. "Unfortunately, it's your debt to pay." I crossed my arms and glared at her. She explained as though to a child, "Your mother was rescued from certain death by a human King. That's a great debt of honor for a fairy to endure." "Yes but these things are easily taken care of," I insisted. "All Mamma had to do was show up at the christening of the King's firstborn and grant it something humans care about." I tried to come up with examples. "You know – beauty, boxing, bee keeping. That sort of thing." My aunt fluttered her webbed fingers about her face in exasperation. "Yes, but your mother missed the christening and, most inconveniently, died." I sighed. I was only a nestling when she died, so I didn't remember.
