Zombie sky press the faerie ring along t 119

grew still as night fell Fireflies gathered, and from his mossy bed rose Manitou, the eldest and most feared of the Wandering Lords Shaking his horns and gathering his retinue of fireflies around him, he set off into the gathering gloom Manitou climbed out of the forest with long strides, up into the foothills to the snow line There, he plucked a handful of gentian blossoms, purple flowers that would fade before the dawn And yet they were her favorites, and Manitou never came to his mistresses—oh, so many of them—empty handed To each he gave her favorite blossoms, her most beloved songbird, her favored silks and satins Lord of no Land, Manitou nevertheless could rule many regal hearts among the fey queens Or at least, he ruled all but one: the one he had once spurned, the one he sought to win once more Queen Mab, his lover of a millennium and more, never gave in to Manitou’s importuning, his sweetest poetry, his rarest gifts of arcane power and fey trickery Manitou was never sure when it would come, but at some time after their greeting kiss and yet before he wished it, she would smile and show him the door Which was no better than he deserved Long and long had Manitou and Mab been King and Queen, with a court and a retinue of star sprites, fauns, pookas, and cluracan, a place of laughter and joy and many, many spring-born flower sprites Those days were past, his demesne abandoned, his veneer of culture thrown away like spoilt milk The greatest lord among the elder fey turned from Mab’s door once more, as he had every year for the past century, without the reconciliation he sought Their court could not be reborn The past was a place forbidden, a place lost forever but in memory So the Queen told him Manitou returned to the wild, his heart filled with rage and sorrow Woe to those who crossed his path and spoke of love Manitou