LOST TIMEWhen they turned the corner at the clump of blackberry bushes where Phoebe would wait, Sierra paused. A haunting silence sat heavily in the meadow. No bass-deep thrumming of the fairies in their hatch rode along the breeze. No tiny lights like sparks flittered within the darkening trees. Her heart galloped. Where were her charges? Thankfully, her sister hadn't noticed yet.
"Phoebe, I need you to go back and start cooking, okay? We don't want dinner late for Jack. This won't take long, but they get irritated at dusk, and I don't want you to get hurt." That last part was not a lie.
Phoebe's shoulders sagged, but she knew a late dinner meant trouble. Finally, she headed back, dragging her feet, head tucked down into her chest. Her knitted shawl, too thin for the cold weather, hid her vibrant hair. Sierra gazed after her sister for a moment to make sure she was really going. If their mother hadn't died birthing Phoebe, maybe things would have been different. Whatever kindness had been in their father must have died right along with her. Phoebe and Sierra stuck together, but some days were better than others. Before she could ache over how much more she wished she could give Phoebe, Sierra turned her attention back to the fairy hatch.
There were no cages for Sierra's fairies. No wires, no lids, no glass. Except for the queen, they were so tiny they could fit through most holes, but they didn't need cages with a fairy keeper around anyway. She was the reason they kept coming back. They did live in a slatted wooden box that allowed easy access to their nectar, but otherwise they were free to come and go as they pleased. Unlike Sierra. She was trapped by her mark, her father, and by her love for Phoebe.
Sierra tiptoed forward. The sky was darkening, but there were no glowing wings covered in the nectar that dripped off them in their hatches. A sense of dread swelled inside her like the beginning of an earthquake. Her skin prickled as it did in that still moment before chaos unleashed destruction.
When she reached the hatch, it appeared that a pile of tiny rainbow flower petals were spread on the ground. For one moment, she didn't understand. Then her knees gave out when her mind made sense of the sight.

All the fairies were dead. No movement, no noise, no vibration, no light. Sierra searched the pile for her queen, the tiny wings rasping softly as she sifted them through her hands. They were like dry silk as they slid down her palms, which began to shake. She dropped the last dead fairy from her fingers and stood in shock. All dead but the queen, who was missing. She cursed, glancing around the clearing in a panic. Where was the queen?