Walking is out of the question and you barely know how to fly. If you stay put, maybe that sorceress would return at some point. You could try and work out something to do in the meantime. The best option seemed to be to sit on a tree branch. Up off the ground, a better vantage point, and probably easy to launch off in an emergency. You warily float up to the closest tree at the edge of the clearing. Gracelessly plopping to the branch, your legs dangle off the side as you assess your state.
Of course you are now a tiny winged woman. Your sword and equipment have been replaced with a dress and shoes that are only practical for flying. Flying is your only apparent asset and you are still not comfortable with it. There is very little you can do if you encounter the sorceress again, aside from talk. Worse than that, beg. You literally have no leverage to move her. You could just pray she would be in a better mood and agree to return you to normal. It may cost you something else, but in fairness, you had destroyed her work. For now you will wait.
You idly lean back on you elbows and kick your feet in boredom. The bark feels pleasant and not too rough. You huff at a stray blonde curl that dangles between your eyes. Trying to blow it away is unsuccessful. You amuse yourself by bouncing the strand on your breath. Eventually, you are giggling as you roll your head around and watch your shiny hair dance around your eyes. Then you realize something fuzzy and white is also moving at the top of your vision. A hand on your forehead feels two wires protruding from your hairline. You gently pull them into view. Two long antennae topped by small white orbs. Pulling them a bit too far hurts a lot. Worse than someone pulling your hair. You sigh and release them to bounce up out of view, feeling closer to a bug than a person now.
The hours tick by and the sun sinks lower. The shimmering smoke trail you had seen slowly dissipates. As the light fades, you feel your eyelids growing heavy. Not much had been done to exhaust you, even though it was an exciting day. Even short flights might be more tiring than one would expect. You pull a leaf off a twig as you walk to the crook of the branch. The leaf serves as a blanket and the crook as your bed. A deep sleep rapidly takes you.
A sudden rush of air and hard impact wake you without warning. You groggily look around rubbing your eyes. You are in a strange domed crystal room. A glance at your body reminds you of your current stature. Not a crystal room, but a glass container. You look above just in time to see a cork seal off the only way out. Trapped. You press your hands and face against the wall trying to see out. The glass is slightly opaque, but you do manage to see an enormous figure. It appears to be a man wearing some kind of ring mail. You see his fingers on the bottom of your bottle prison. You bang a tiny fist and cry out to him in a quavering voice.
"H-Hey! What do you think your doing?! Let me go!"
He could be ignoring you or maybe unable to hear your tiny voice through the container. You are lowered to his belt, where the bottle is fitted into a snug holder. With only one obvious option, you flutter up to the top and push against the lid with all your might. It is not enough to even budge it. You drop back to the floor. Tears begin to form in your eyes again.
Now you are the prize of some random adventurer. His type often sought magical items and boons to help in their quests. You know this because you used to be one of them. He will be disappointed to discover you have no magic to offer him. Unless you did. You had not really thought about it or tried, but fairies are meant to be very magical creatures. You could try to summon some magic to aid you now. Perhaps it would be more wise to get the guy's attention and explain what happened. It would take a lot of effort to get him to notice. Exhausting yourself may not be the best idea. You can always wait and see what his intentions are before acting rashly.
Copyright 2000 - 2024 21 x 20 Media All rights reserved. This site is property of 21 x 20 Media
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.12 seconds at 4:30pm on Nov 25, 2024 via server WEBX1.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author