Tinkerbell's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Tinkerbell held her hand over the last sad flower in her garden and waited for the magic. She wanted to wake its gray petals, the way she woke every sleeping thing she touched. That was her gift. She granted small wishes and left light behind her. But today only one weak spark dropped from her fingers. It fizzled in the dirt. The flower stayed gray. She pressed both hands together and tried again. Nothing came. Her wish-magic had shrunk to a flicker, thin as a dying candle. She sank onto the doorstep of her home, a cottage shaped like a giant acorn cap, its shingled roof curving over her like a hat. She had never felt this empty. Tinkerbell knew where her magic came from. It grew from warmth given between two living things. From closeness. From hugs. Alone in her garden, she had nothing to draw on, and the flowers were dying because of it. She stood and shook out her wings. If closeness made magic, she would go find some. She flew toward the sound she had been ignoring all morning — laughter, high and bright, drifting through the trees. In a clearing she found a cluster of fairies with glowing wings. They spun and darted around each other, trailing color. When they saw Tinkerbell hovering at the edge, their play stopped. "You look like a snuffed lantern," said the tallest one, landing lightly. Her wing tips still shimmered pink and blue. "What happened to your shine?" "It's gone," Tinkerbell said. Her voice cracked. "I can't grant a single wish. My flowers are dying and I can't fix them." The fairy studied her. The others drew closer, quiet now. Tinkerbell braced for them to turn away. Instead the tall one opened her arms. "Then take some of ours," she said. Tinkerbell hesitated. Then she stepped forward. The fairy wrapped both arms around her and held on. A second fairy pressed against her back. A third and fourth folded in, until Tinkerbell stood inside a knot of warm wings and steady heartbeats. Heat bloomed in her chest. It spread down her arms and into her fingertips. Her wings, dull all morning, began to burn gold. When the fairies finally let go, light poured off Tinkerbell in waves. The grass under her feet turned greener. A closed bud near her toes snapped open. She laughed and shot into the air. Sparks rained from her hands like falling stars. She flew home fast. At her garden she swept her glowing hands over the gray flower. Petals lifted, color rushing back, until the whole plant blazed alive. Tinkerbell hovered, full and bright again. She understood now. Her magic did not live inside her alone. It lived in what she shared with others. To keep her gift, she could never go it alone again. And her garden was only one small patch. Beyond the trees, the whole wood waited in shadow.