The young Pixie seemed disappointed. To brighten her mood, Deborah said, ‘Ralph thinks that Doc may come to us from Mirrindale soon. If I was a Pixie like you, I would just fly all the way there.’
Éha watched her with an odd expression. ‘If it was allowed, I could take you there. But there is a problem in doing so.’
‘Take me there?’ asked Deborah in surprise, ‘How?’
‘The manner is simple enough,’ replied the Pixie. ‘All you would have to do is take my hand, and when I changed form, you would change with me, after a fashion. But being Human you would have no wings. And . . .’ she was trying not to laugh, ‘your clothing would be left behind.’
Excited, and slightly embarrassed, Deborah said, ‘Why?’
With a smile, Éha replied, as though explaining something obvious, ‘There is no magic in your clothing! You must by now have noticed the sort of attire worn by Pixies. And how it resembles our wings.’
Deborah nodded.
‘I’ll tell you a secret,’ the Pixie continued in a whisper. ‘Our wings and our raiment are one and the same. If I was to discard my dress, as Malina has done, I would also lose most of my power.’