AS DID MOST NIGHTS FILLED WITH UNWANTED EXCITEMENT, THE EVENING DRAGGED ON SLOWLY. The faeries in the burrow didn’t think they would be able to sleep through the terrifying sounds. Nor did they think the sun would ever rise again to create another morning. But sleep the faeries did, and up the sun rose, marking the start of a new dawn… and a new age. The sun brought with it a chorus of singing birds and a flurry of activity throughout the Moors.

“It’s over!” shouted a hedgehog faerie nearby.

“It’s over!” echoed a few dew faeries flying overhead.

Robin awoke with a start. He furtively looked around. He was alone in the dark burrow. If it had been any other day, he would have laughed merrily, thinking he’d been roped into a game of hide-and-go-seek. Instead, he panicked.

“Maleficent! Pompous possums, where could she have… where could they have… Maleficent!” he squeaked as he raced out of the burrow.

“It’s all right.” It was a voice as bright as tinkling bells, his friend Sweetpea’s voice.

Robin turned to his right and saw baby Maleficent lying in a large nest next to a shallow stream. Four energetic water faeries, Crisith, Lockstone, Walla, and Pipsy, were cleaning her soft black hair, dropping small amounts of the clear sparkling water over her head. Maleficent shifted in the nest, reaching toward them, while Sweetpea and Finch decorated the nest with leaves and flowers.

“They have been spreading the news all morning,” Sweetpea announced. “The battle is over. The Moors are safe once more.”

“We want to get Maleficent ready to see Hermia and Lysander when they get back. I’m sure they’ll be here any moment,” Finch added, hovering back to observe their masterpiece. He then made his way back to adjust a leaf that was out of place.

Robin broke into a smile and then erupted into laughter. “Whooping wallerbogs! They did it!” He buzzed over to Maleficent and tickled her cheeks. She giggled and clapped her hands in delight.

A few hours later, after the fruit faerie Adella had fed Maleficent some berries and Robin had played a few dozen rounds of peekaboo with her, Maleficent started to cry quietly. Robin didn’t know if she was in tune with their shared feelings of uneasiness, or if she intuitively knew something was wrong. But his suspicions were confirmed when he saw a giant sentry slowly headed their way.

The towering wooden creatures hardly ever came to that part of the Moors. They were far more comfortable in the marsh and took their duties as guards of the border seriously. Only something truly important would have brought him there, particularly after a battle. As the sentry ambled on, his large footsteps echoing and his grand shadow sweeping past, many other creatures and Fair Folk came out of the surrounding area to gather together.

“What brings you here, Birchalin?” asked Robin when he approached the group. “When can we expect Lysander and Hermia?”

The sentry sighed, shifting his weight from root to root. “I’m afraid I come bearing bad news. I wanted to be the one to deliver it, but now it is so hard to say.”

Some of the faeries flew up to his height and gathered round the wooden creature to hear him. They were at once anxious to listen and afraid of what he might say.

“I thought we won the battle,” Finch offered.

“We did keep our home safe from the humans once more, for the time being,” Birchalin began softly. “But I’m afraid our victory came at a price. Lysander and Hermia were killed last night.”

A chorus of gasps shuddered through the crowd, and Maleficent started to wail louder in her nest on the ground. The other Fair Folk looked at her, a wave of shock and sorrow for the infant faerie passing through them all.

Robin was the one to move first. Slowly, but with purpose, he flew down to Maleficent’s side, touching her shoulder with a small hand. One by one, others followed suit, Sweetpea and Finch at her feet, the water faeries by her head, wallerbogs rising out of their lake to sit by her side.

Then they lifted her into the air, flying through the forest with Birchalin and other creatures following, creating a somber procession. Finally, they reached their destination, the place to which they had all known they were going without having to say it aloud. The Rowan Tree. Gently, they lowered Maleficent against the magnificent stump, beams of sunlight peeking through the leaves, creating a halo around her head. As she settled into the tree, she stopped crying.

The other Fair Folk stood and flew around her, forming a protective circle. Robin was the first to speak, repeating the words he’d spoken only hours earlier.

“We’ll look after you.”

As the years passed, Maleficent grew to be a striking, happy faerie child. The Fair Folk raised her together, taking care of her, teaching her all of their skills, their languages, their work, until it was apparent she no longer needed looking after. She was a quick learner and proved to be lively and independent at a very young age. Soon the other Fair Folk became her dearest companions and friends instead of her caretakers, and she made sure to visit them all throughout the day. Her favorite visits were the ones during which the others would tell her about her parents.

“Oh, you have your mother’s wings,” Sweetpea would say during a morning flight. Maleficent flew haphazardly next to her, unable to control her large, ungainly wings just yet. But hearing that her oversized ebony wings were similar to her mother’s made Maleficent blush proudly.

“Your dad had those same glittering eyes,” Finch would remark as they walked through the forest. She looked at herself in the gleaming pond, paying closer attention to her bright eyes.

Maleficent most enjoyed spending time with her best friend, Robin. Sometimes they’d play made-up games, trying to get each other to guess what animals they were pretending to be, or rewarding whomever made the strangest-looking face that day. Often he’d teach her how to play funny little tricks on the nearby faeries. Their shoulders would shake with laughter when they saw the bewilderment on the stone faerie’s face after they moved her recently arranged rocks right next to her. Or when the pixies bickered with one another, not knowing that Robin and Maleficent were the ones who had eaten their berries.

Other times, they would sit lazily in the Rowan Tree. He had known her parents the best and told her stories about them all the time. Sometimes they were silly, sometimes they were sweet, but they always made her smile.

“And then I popped up from under the bog, scaring the living fireflies out of Lysander, I did.” Robin guffawed, thinking of the memory, and Maleficent joined in.

“Oh, Robin, you devil! When he was trying so hard to impress my mother,” she said, giggling.

“He still impressed her, even after jumping ten feet high like a scared ninny.”

After their laughter subsided, Maleficent broached the subject that Robin so carefully avoided.

“Robin… have you ever seen a human close-up?”

He frowned. “No, lass, I have not. Nor would I want to. They’re nothing but trouble, humans.”

Maleficent sat up, talking more animatedly now. “But you said my parents believed there were good ones out there. That we could have a good relationship with them someday.”

“I did,” Robin agreed. “But you know what that belief cost them.” He spoke gently but firmly. It was sometimes hard to remember how young, how innocent Maleficent still was. “They try to steal our treasures, pillage our land. They even carry weapons made out of iron, they do, the stuff that burns our kind.”

“But, Robin, humans are a part of nature, too,” she continued. She’d clearly been thinking quite a bit about this. “I know there are horrendous ones. Monsters. But there are mean faeries and animals out there, too, just like there are plenty of nice ones. The humans cannot be all bad.”

Robin sat quietly. He could not give her the answer she wanted. After that dreadful night years earlier, he despised all humans for what they’d taken away. “No, my love,” he said, patting her arm. “They are.” He flew away from the Rowan Tree, unable to continue their conversation.

Maleficent sighed, resting her back against the trunk of the tree once more. Maybe Robin didn’t believe it, but she did. And she knew her parents would be proud of her for doing so.