So, with a flash of green lightning, she flew through the stiff branches and wavy leaves of the red oak over to the East side of the tree. “Mr. Squirrel, are you there?” she shouted at the large damp nest of leaves and moss. She heard some munching noises and a slurp. She called again “Mr. Squirrel?” More munching noises followed. Miranda flew up to the top of the nest, made a big O with her tiny hands around her mouth, and shouted at the top of her lungs “Yoo-hoo, anybody there?” Mr. Squirrel realized at about this time that someone had probably been calling him for a rather long while and that he had been just a tad too occupied with his breakfast of nut-bread and honey-water to notice. He bounced to the window, he opened the leafy cobwebs he was using for drapes, and he peered out squinting into the sunshine.
He wiggled his nose and wondered “What’s all this about?” and Miranda zipped down from above like a jolt and startled Mr. Squirrel away from the window. Like all little girls, Miranda was filled with energy of the stars. He sighed, he puffed, and he ruffled his coat. He recovered from the shock and climbed out the top door.
“Oh, hello, Miranda! What can I do you for, m’dear?” She giggled. He smiled. Mr. Squirrel always had a happy way of saying things that other people just said because they know they’re supposed to. He still had a thick ruddy winter coat and a little bulge of a winter belly. When he smiled ear to ear, you could still only see two pearly white buckteeth sticking out from his moustache and whiskers.
“I heard a noise! It sounded like trouble!” said Miranda.
“I didn’t hear any noise myself,” he replied “but if your trouble’s needs a nutty fix, gee-golly, I got the whole eastside stocked, packed tighter than nobody’s business.” Miranda understood somehow that he had a lot of nuts.
“Um, maybe.” was all she could say to what she was not sure was a boast, an offer, or a bit of both. Mr. Squirrel was a hard worker, it’s true. He worked the whole summer long collecting nuts for the winter, when he snacked between naps and spent too much time indoors.
So, with a “thanks” and a smile and a flash of green lightning, she raced through to the North of the red oak tree. Soon she was tapping furiously on the door of Miss Mourning Dove’s maple sapling cabin.
“O Miss Mourning Dove!” she called. She waited for a moment. The door creaked open and Miranda began to chatter “Oh, I’m so glad you’ve answered. I was–”
Poof!
A huge cloud of dust shot right out the door and hit her in the face. She sneezed and sneezed, and when a fairy sneezes it is no laughing matter. Fairies have rather large lung capacity for their size and when they sneeze they zip around the forest like untied balloons leaving a trail of golden glitter like that of sparklers at night. After three tremendous sneezes that sent her zipping all over and through the red oak tree, she ended up right where she started. Fairies do have, on the other hand, exceptional luck. Miss Mourning Dove saw Miranda when she turned around. She had been fluttering her wings to sweep out her little house.
“Cou-Cou, Miranda. I was just doing some spring clean-up.” She was totally oblivious to what had happened. “How are you deary?”
“I’m g-g-goo...oo...oo...d!” and she sneezed and she zoomed like she was on her own personal roller coaster on fire and she ended up right where she started from.
“Oh, dear.” said Miss Mourning Dove.
“Yes, well...” started Miranda. Then she rubbed her nose back and forth to catch the new sneeze that was starting there. “I heard a noise and there may be trouble. Did you hear anything Miss Dove?”
Miss Mourning Dove bobbed her head up and down, left and right, sideways, and around in circles rattling her little bird brain, trying to remember the world ten minutes ago and having some difficulty.
“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” said Miranda out loud. She could see that the poor bird was confused. “At least her heart’s in the right place” said Miranda to herself.
“You could always try...” Miss Dove nodded to the left side twice “...Mr. You-know-who. Or maybe Mr. Owl.” and then she nodded to the right. “They are never far away.” And Miss Mourning Dove gave Miranda a peck on each cheek for courage.