T H R E E

WHEN RANI stepped into Tink’s inside-a-teakettle workshop, Tink was repairing a saucepan that had been brought to her by Terence, a dust talent. He was at her side, watching.

Rani had never seen a pot in such desperate straits. Its sides were down. Its bottom was one bump after another. Its handle hung by a thread. Its finish was past thinking of.

“I left it on the stove too long,” Terence had said when he’d presented it to Tink. “I’d fly backward if I could for damaging it.”

This was the fairy equivalent of an apology, although he wasn’t really sorry, and he hadn’t left the pan on the stove too long, either. He’d placed it under a tree and had rained rocks down on it for hours. After that he’d attacked it with a hammer and had soaked it in vinegar. All so he could present Tink with a problem worthy of her attention—and have an excuse for visiting her.

Rani coughed when she came in, knowing Tink hated interruptions.

Tink whirled around, her hand on her bangs. “What?”

“We have to go to Mother Dove now.” Rani explained everything. “We’re leaving Never Land right away.”

Tink put down the pot. A wand! A flood! A wand!

Terence was frightened for Tink. A trip to the mainland was arduous, and the Great Wandies were known to be harebrained. “You’ll need fairy dust.”

He flew out of the workshop. As he left, he thought about what he would wish for if he ever held the wand. One wish, only one, and then he’d never want anything more ever again.

A supply of fairy dust was already in the carrier when he arrived at the nest with a full satchel. He put his in, too, just in case.

A crowd of fairies clustered in Mother Dove’s tree, each fairy hoping to be needed at the last minute.

Terence told Tink, “Keep a sharp eye out for hawks.”

She pulled her bangs. Of course she would.

The afternoon was mild, as they mostly are on the island. The sun shone. Mother Dove’s branch was dry. But the ground was squishy.

“The Great Wandies are rash,” Mother Dove said, although she hated to speak ill of any sort of fairy. “Ree, take care.”

Ree nodded. “Rani will stay out of the way until it’s—”

“—safe. All right.”

“Ree…Rani…Tink…” Mother Dove cooed after each name. She hesitated. “Try not to wave the wand, but if you must wave it, make only one wish and make it a small wish, an unimportant one.”

She knew they might not be able to honor their promises, and she also knew they’d hate themselves if they couldn’t. Still, their pledges might strengthen them.

They promised, although Tink tugged her bangs. Didn’t Mother Dove trust her not to make a foolish wish?

Mother Dove saw Tink’s irritation.

Rani was annoyed, too. She couldn’t remember ever being annoyed with Mother Dove before. Her wish for friendship with Soop seemed small, but she didn’t know what Mother Dove would think. She was close to tears, and the last thing Fairy Haven needed was more water.

Mother Dove’s voice grew stern. “Don’t use the wand to end the flood. Ree, don’t let the Great Wandies do it, either. Soop will retaliate. She could send a tidal wave.” Mother Dove shivered. “She could send sharks.”

Everyone shivered.

Tink said, “Couldn’t we stop Soop from wanting to flood us?” That seemed harmless enough.

“Yes, Tink, you could.” Mother Dove’s voice had never sounded so cold, so unloving.

Tink—brave Tink—was terrified.

“And someone,” Mother Dove continued in that same awful tone, “could wave a wand and stop you from wanting to fix pots.” She saw Tink’s tremulous glow and cooed.

Rani stepped into the balloon carrier. Tink, her glow still wavery from Mother Dove’s rebuke, felt for the knife on her belt.

Ree picked up the carrier’s towing cord and proclaimed, “We will be careful. We will be kind. We will be Never fairies at our best.”

The quest was on.