Rosabel wanted to be kind to the whole kingdom, but she had never left her patch of woods. The pink fairy stood at the edge of the last tree she knew. Past it, the ground dropped into fog. Somewhere beyond lay villages she had only heard about in the wind. She had baked honey cakes all morning. Now they sat cooling on her windowsill, and no one far away would ever taste them. Her little home sat behind her, snug and vine-wrapped, its flower boxes bright under the leaves. A golden firefly, her pet, drifted from her shoulder to the doorstep and back. It glowed when she was worried. Right now it glowed hard. "I can help ten people," she told the firefly. "Ten. And there are thousands out there." A rustle came from the fern bed. Two old gnomes shuffled out, mushroom caps tipping over their eyes. One wore a red cap, one a brown. They had traded with Rosabel for years, swapping seeds for her cakes. "You're mopey today," said the red-capped one. He sniffed the air. "Honey cakes and sadness. Bad mix." "My kindness stops at these trees," Rosabel said. "I have no way to cross the fog." The brown-capped gnome scratched his beard. "Walking's no good. Too far. Legs give out." He paused. "You need wings bigger than yours." Rosabel looked at her own small wings. They carried her over ponds, not kingdoms. "There's nothing here that could carry me so far." The red-capped gnome grinned. "There's the one by the reeds. Big fellow. Fast. Never let a soul near him, though." He pointed a stubby thumb toward the water past the ferns. Rosabel followed the point. On a flat stone rested a dragonfly the size of a pony. Its wings caught the light like wet glass. Its body shimmered green and blue. She had seen it before, always alone, always darting off when anyone came close. "He'll never trust me," she said. "Then don't chase him," said the brown-capped gnome. "Offer." Rosabel understood. She flew back for a honey cake and set it on the stone beside the dragonfly. Then she stepped away and waited. The firefly hovered above her, dimming now, calmer. The dragonfly turned its great eyes to the cake. It nudged the treat, then ate. When Rosabel came closer, it did not flee. She rested one hand on its cool wing. It let her stay. "He likes you," the red-capped gnome whispered. Rosabel climbed onto its back. The wings thrummed. In a rush of wind she rose above the trees, above the fog, higher than she had ever gone. The villages spread out below, small roofs in a wide green valley. Her heart lifted, then dropped. There were so many. Farther than she had ever imagined. One rider could not feed a whole kingdom in a day. But now, at last, she could reach them. The trees no longer held her in.