​Pindi sat on a leaf and wrapped her arms around her knees. She rested her chin on top of her knees and pouted. Zoom flew by and said, “Hey Pindi, let’s go for a ride. Hop on.”
“I can’t,” Pindi grumbled. “My mother won’t let me leave the tree. She’s afraid of the human virus.”
“Pindi!” called her twin sister Mindi, “Mother wants to know if you have your mask. You’re not supposed to go outside without it.”
“Its not fair!” Pindi yelled. “We don’t even know if fairies can be infected by this virus, but we’re not allowed to go anywhere or do anything!” She got up and stomped into the grand hall.
“Pindi,” her mother, Queen Caelia said softly, “you know we have to be careful until we know if the human virus can infect us.” Pindi crossed her arms and glared at her mother. She refused to be soothed, even though Queen Caelia stroked her shiny hair while she talked. “You father is in in counsel with the fairy kings from other trees. Some of them are reporting virus infections among their fairies, mostly those who live near big human cities. And we’ve heard stories of animals being infected. We don’t know how this will impact us, so we need to be careful until we have more information.”
“I hate being stuck at home,” Pindi complained.
“You’re not stuck,” Queen Caelia replied, “you’re safe.”
After a moment, Queen Caelia sighed and said, “You can go out with Zoom. Wear your mask and wash your hands when you get home.”
“YAY” Pindi ran out of the grand hall pumping her arms in the air. “Come on Mindi, let’s go. Will you grab my mask?”
Pindi stood on a branch and called Zoom. “We can go! We can fly with you!”
Zoom flew to the branch and waited for the fairy sisters to jump on the hummingbird’s back and flew off. Pindi tied on her mask while they were flying and then shouted “Weeeeeee” as they careened around the garden.
“Let’s go see Intrepid, Dasher, Ka-a, Ribbit, and Xylem. Even Blade,” Pindi said. “I miss everyone.”
“You know we can’t visit,” Mindi warned. “We have to stay far enough away from each other that the virus can’t spread. We’d have to shout at each other.”
“I don’t care,” Pindi replied. “I just want to see my friends, even if all I can do is wave hello.”
“Intrepid is still in Santa Rosa,” Zoom told the fairies. “He likes it up there with his buddies from the bird rescue center. He will be sad to miss seeing you, though.”
“Look, there’s Ka-a! Hi Ka-a, “Pindi shouted, waving wildly. “How are you doing?”
“I can’t chat right now. I’m on sentry duty, “Ka-a said as he cawed out an alert about a person walking a dog along the sidewalk.
“Look, there’s Xylem riding on Dasher,” Mindi said. “Hi Xylem. Hi Dasher.”
Xylem turned and waved; her short dark pixie cut hair framing her cute face. “Hi you two. I miss you.”
“We miss you, too,” the fairy sisters said in unison.
“Let’s start planning our mid-summer celebration. Surely, we’ll be able to gather again by then,” Xylem said.
“Yes!” Pindi yelled. “We can send each other ideas by butterfly. It’ll be fun, and we’ll have something to look forward to. Great idea!”
“We have to go now,” Dasher said. He turned and his long red abdomen gleamed in the sun. “Bye Pindi, Bye, Mindi,” he called as he and Xylem flew off.
“Let’s go look for Ribbit!” Pindi said as Zoom turned towards the gutter.
“Ribbit,” called Pindi. “Ribbit, will you come say hi to us?”
“Ribbit may be hiding in the cool dark drains,” Mindi said. “He doesn’t like warm, sunny days. We may not get to see him.”
“We need to get back soon,” said Zoom. “I am getting hungry from all this flying. You two may be small, but you are heavy on my back.”
“Ok,” said Pindi. “But let’s swing by the pond and see if we can find Blade on our way home.”
Zoom circled the Red Japanese Maple Tree above the pond and found Blade lounging on a leaf. He waved a lazy hand at his cousins. “Hi little fairy cousins,” he called.
Pindi grimaced. She hated to be called a little fairy cousin. “We’re 13 now! We’re not little any longer,” she yelled.
“You’ll always be my little fairy cousins,” said Blade. “I love you guys, even if you are pests.”
“Boy fairies! Pindi scowled. “They think they’re so cool. Humph. Let’s go home, Zoom.”
Back at the Green Japanese Maple Tree, the fairies climbed down from Zoom’s back. “Thank you Zoom!” they called as Zoom left to find his lunch. “We had a great time.”
Mindi turned to her sister. “Let’s start planning our mid-summer celebration.”
“Ok,” said Pindi and they walked into the Grand Hall arm in arm.

​The cat is trying to decide whether to take a nap on top of the filing cabinet. The sun is shining through the window, pooling light in the perfect spot for a nap.
He’s distracted by a leaf moving in the breeze just outside the window. The dance of light and shadow is too enticing to ignore. Tail twitching, ears straining forward, whiskers quivering, he stares.
A woman walks her dog on the sidewalk. A neighborhood crow sentry calls out his warning. The next sentry in line takes up the cry. Caws echo down the street, marking the dog’s progress.
The cat watches.
The most aggressive of the backyard hens starts her morning performance. What she lacks in vocal finesse, she makes up in volume. I cringe, hoping her song isn’t disturbing the neighbors.
The cat looks at me as if asking me to make the hen stop squawking. I wish I had that power.
I want to take a nap, channeling my inner cat, letting the sun’s soporific warmth lull me to sleep. There’s not enough room on the filing cabinet for the cat and me. And, I have too much caffeine in my system to allow for sleep. But I can wish. I wish I could sleep until the virus has run its course. Until we’re allowed to socialize and shop again. Until this nightmare is over.
The cat has decided to move to the bed. There’s no pool of sunlight on the bed, but it is comfier than the filing cabinet. And there’s room for me. He begs me to join him. “I can’t,” I tell him. “I have to write.”
He winds around my legs and head slams my calf. Finally, he gives up and stalks off to the bedroom with his tail in the air and his heat held high. “Humph” he meows. He hates to wait. 

​I went to work early today.  The sun was barely peeking over the mountains.
All the men were called to meet with the foreman first thing.
“No more work,” he said. “There’s no demand for corn. Collect your pay and go home.”
We stood in a line, staring. He wouldn’t meet our eyes.
I jammed my shovel into the ground and walked away. Opened the creaking door of my pickup and drove, gravel dust flying from my wheels.
How do I tell me wife? We have two kids to feed.
An acre of ground, a cow, some chickens. A garden.
We’ll eat. My wife will see to that.
I am a man.
I provide. Protect. Defend.
I came through a war. I survived, although damaged.
The acrid smell of nitrate lives in my brain with the deafening sounds of explosions.
The tang of blood and screams of my brothers in arms dying. A field of battle. Destruction.
I’m not what I was.
But I can repair the fence.
Patch the roof.
Clean the barn.
Paint the house. Can’t, we have no paint.
Milk the cow.
Plow the field.
Plant the seeds.
I’m not what I was.
But I can do what I can.
I am a man.
I will survive.

​My jeans ripped
I wish they hadn’t
My jeans are old, well-loved, well-washed
Comfortable friends
They fit me well and I feel good when I wear them
But they ripped
It started as a small hole in the thigh that grew a little with each washing
Then, yesterday, I caught my toe in the hole when I was pulling them on
Now the rip runs from seam to seam
And it’s starting to fray
My jeans look trendy
But they earned that rip through years of wear
And I don’t care about trends
I dance to my own piper and she isn’t sure about ripped jeans
I’m not sure a 65-year-old woman should wear ripped jeans
I can see my daughters rolling their eyes
Mo-om, you’re too old to wear ripped jeans
I know
I don’t care
My jeans ripped
Maybe I’ll patch them

Maggie noticed every detail in sharp relief. The way the sun slanted through the trees. The leaves glowing, drinking in the sunlight. The sharp scent of the resin from the Eucalyptus trees. The damp smell of the earth still wet with morning dew. It was eerily quiet.
“Kestrel,” Maggie said. “You know you’ll fail. You won’t kill me. Today or any day.”
“Shut up!” Kestrel shouted.
“You use that phrase a lot,” Maggie replied. “And I’m not shutting up. You’re misguided now, just like when we were girls. You aren’t a witch. There isn’t black magic or power in blood or sacrifice. You’re just trying to be important.”
“You don’t know anything! Today, I will complete the cycle by killing you. The last of the five stupid girls who saw something they shouldn’t have. Today, with your blood, my power will come.”
“You aren’t just misguided. You’re nuts.”  Maggie wanted to keep Kestrel talking to distract her.
“I am not nuts. And you’re dead.” Kestrel turned and lunged. Maggie danced back a step.
Maggie heard the whisper of wings as the owls flew close. The noisy flapping wings of the hawk. She heard the air rush by and saw the blur of the diving peregrine falcon. Kestrel screamed again, “NO!” wildly waving her arms over her head, desperately trying to beat off talons and beaks. She turned to run. Her foot caught on a tree root and she fell, pinning her arms beneath her. She gasped. “No. I have to finish this. I have to kill Maggie.”
Maggie noticed blood pooling around Kestrel’s prone body. “She landed on her knife,” she whispered to herself.
The peregrine landed first, stabbing the back of Kestrel’s neck with its tomial tooth. The hawk landed next, digging into Kestrel’s back with its talons. The owls were last to land. Their attack was fierce. Kestrel’s back, neck, and arms bled from dozens of beak and claw wounds. The pool of blood around her grew. She stopped trying to fight off the birds and was still.
Overhead, crows were gathering. They sang their rusty chorus as they landed on tree branches. Further up, three turkey vultures circled, waiting for their turn.
Maggie’s stomach lurched and she swallowed bile. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves and her stomach. “I don’t want to vomit,” she said to herself. She stepped back into the trees and watched the birds tear into Kestrel’s body. She clapped her hands over her hears so she wouldn’t hear to wet rending of flesh being torn off Kestrel’s back.
Maggie widened her eyes in disbelief when a kestrel rose from Kestrel’s body. One of the owls grabbed the kestrel and flew off. The other raptors followed, grabbing at the lifeless form. Feathers floated to the ground.
“It’s over.” Maggie turned and walked slowly out of the trees.
 
Epilogue
Maggie sat at her parents’ kitchen table; her hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea. She was still shaking. Her mother wrapped a soft blanket around her shoulders. “Here, darling, this will help you get warm.”
Maggie’s father sat across from her, pouring a liberal amount of whiskey in his tea. He looked at Maggie and gestured with the bottle. Maggie nodded.
Molly sat next to Maggie. She had asked Joe to wait outside.
Maggie’s mother bustled around the table, putting a plate of coffee cake in the middle. “Here, sugar will help. Eat.”
Everyone just sat and stared into space. No one spoke.
No one would believe what they had seen in the clearing. But, it was over. 

​Mollie pulled the patrol car into Maggie’s parents’ driveway faster than she should have. The car fishtailed, the tires caught gravel, and she gunned it towards the garage, stopping with squealing brakes and a shower of gravel.
She burst out of the car, waving papers in her hand as she ran towards the front door. She nearly ran into Mollie’s mom at the door. “It’s Kestrel!” she shouted. “We found evidence at her house. She’s coming here to kill Maggie. We have to move NOW.”
“She’s already here,” Maggie’s mom whispered. “Maggie went out this morning to confront Kestrel. To end this. She and Maggie walked towards the clearing in the trees a few minutes ago.” Maggie’s mom’s voice shook as she related the morning’s events to Mollie. “My husband followed them. He’s out there with that killer and my daughter right now.”

​I swing gently back and forth on the porch swing, breathing in every sight, sound, and scent.
The sharp tang of the resin from the porch roof releasing its oils as it bakes in the sun.
The soft shine of the painted floor reflecting the light.
The dappled shade on the lawn from the ancient spreading oak tree.
The whisper of air that caresses my face as I swing back and forth.
The songs the birds sing from the branches of the trees.
The sound of children laughing as they chase a ball across the lawn.
The green scent of grass being mown next door.
The drone of the lawnmower.
The clink of ice and refreshing, cool taste of lemonade with its perfect balance of tart and sweet.
The heady perfume of the rose that blooms in front of the porch.
The knowledge that the love of my life will be home soon, greeting me with a smile, eyes twinkling, moving in for a kiss hello. He’ll taste of sweat, salt, and sawdust from his shop. The children – our children – will see his truck and come running, abandoning their game of chase. “Daddy, you’re home!” Embracing him with sticky arms and hands. “Look, I skinned my knee!”
I’ll have to get up and made dinner soon. We’ll eat outside on the big plank table set up in the back. As afternoon turns to dusk, we’ll watch the lightening bugs emerge to dance, and listen to the frogs sing their nightly chorus from the creek behind our property. The night blooming flowers will unfold their petals in the soft night air.
A perfect end to a perfect day. A snapshot to memorialize in my heart, savoring every minute.

​Kestrel shivered in the pre-dawn mist. She stretched the stiffness from her legs and smiled. Her wait was nearly over. It was time to lure Maggie out of the house.
Maggie woke up in her childhood bed, stretched her arms above her head and snuggled deeper under the down comforter. She was drifting back to sleep when she smelled coffee. “Dad,” she thought. “He’s always up early and always makes coffee. Maggie climbed out of bed, grabbed her robe, and headed towards the kitchen. “Smells delicious, Dad. May I have a cup?”
“Of course,” her dad replied. “I was hoping the smell of coffee would wake you up. I want to talk with you – alone. Your mother is worried. She doesn’t need to hear what I have to say.”
Maggie definitely needed coffee before having this conversation. She sipped and sighed at the rich, dark taste and the first hit of caffeine. “Ok, I’m ready. What do you want to tell me?”
“I want you to go away until this is over.”
“Dad, I can’t, and you know that,” Maggie said. “I heard the owls last night. I know Kestrel is close. She’s calling me. I need to confront her and end this. But,” Maggie tried to reassure her dad, “it will be easier if you make your banana pancakes before I go.” Maggie hugged her father and turned to help him prepare his special breakfast.
After they had eaten and cleaned up the kitchen, Maggie pulled on her jacket and stepped outside. The sun was just rising over the hills. A hawk and a peregrine falcon were perched on the roof, watching. Maggie could have sworn they looked at her and nodded. She felt oddly protected. Shaking her head, she headed towards the barn.
Kestrel stepped out from the side of the barn. “I’ve been waiting for you, Maggie. Its time.”
“Hello Kestrel,” Maggie replied. “I am not surprised to see you. Were you comfortable in the clearing last night, or was it too cold and damp for you?”
“Shut up!” Kestrel screamed. “Do you know what today is? It is the day you die.”
“Today is the first full moon after the spring equinox. Isn’t that when we saw you and your mother in the clearing all those years ago?”
“Yes, and it is perfect day to complete the circle. Come to the clearing with me. Unless you’re afraid.”
“You don’t scare me,” Maggie lied. “And, I don’t plan to die today.”
The hawk and the peregrine falcon circled overhead. Two great horned owls watched from the trees. 

​Molly ran to her patrol car, jerked open the door and jumped into the driver’s seat, knocking her knee against the steering wheel. “Ow! That hurt!” she said through gritted teeth while she rubbed her knee. The detective assigned to be her partner that day grinned as he climbed into the passenger seat. Detective Joe Jacobsen had been Molly’s mentor and teacher for a long time. He trusted her instincts and was constantly amused by her clumsiness. “You ok?” he asked. “Should I drive?”
“Not on your life!”  Molly snapped back. “Fasten your seatbelt and hold on.”
“I found a current address for Kestrel,” Molly explained as she navigated the patrol car through traffic. “We have to move fast. I am not going to let her murder Maggie, and I know she’s the next victim.”
She pulled up to the curb in front of a run-down cottage at the edge of town. Paint was peeling on the siding and the roof was green with moss, but the lawn was a newly mown and flowers bloomed from neat beds. No weeds. The curtains were drawn tightly shut, but the windows were spotless. Today was garbage day, and the recycling and garbage cans stood in a near row near the curb. There was no car in the drive.
Molly looked around as she got out of the car. “Looks like she takes care of the place, but she likes her privacy. She strode briskly to the front door and knocked. And waited. And listened. “Doesn’t seem like she’s home,” she said to Joe. “Go around back and see what you can find.”
Molly knocked again. “Police!” she yelled. “Open the door.”
No answer.
“Molly!” Joe called from the back of the house. “Come here and look at this.”
Molly ran back and saw Joe standing next to a fire pit holding a stick with a small piece of fabric on the end. “Looks like she burned some clothes. Hers?” Molly pulled on nitrile gloves, knelt and carefully put the fabric into an evidence bag.
“I think we have enough for a search warrant. Let’s go call the judge.”

Kestrel stood in the shadows at the edge of the trees. She watched Maggie run to greet her mother, and she saw Maggie’s father close the barn doors and lock in the chickens. He turned slowly, scanning the pasture, looking at the trees. Kestrel laughed to herself and stepped quietly back into deeper shadows. “He thinks he can stop me, but he can’t. No one can.”
            The house glowed. Warm lights shone through the windows, and smoke wisped up through the chimney, its tendrils slowly dispersing in the night breeze. “You think you’re safe in there, with your warm fire and cozy kitchen,” Kestrel thought. “You’re wrong.”
            “I’m going to kill you right where you and those stupid friends of yours saw my mother and me. I’ll slip my knife between your ribs, complete the circle and be reborn.”
Maggie felt a shiver along her spine. “Kestrel’s near,” she told her father. “I can feel her. She’s watching us. And waiting.”
“She can’t get you here, “Maggie’s father tried to reassure her. “She won’t get past me.”
Maggie wished that was true, but she just smiled and hugged her father. “I know, Dad. Thank you for protecting me.”
Outside, Kestrel turned and strode further into the trees. She found the spot where she and her mother had cast their dark circle. Opening the bag she carried on her shoulder, Kestrel took out the tools she needed. Her knife flashed in a sliver of moonlight. Satisfied she was ready; Kestrel pulled her cloak closer around her and sat on the ground to wait.
Kestrel felt the air above her move with the beating of wings. Looking up, she could barely make out darker shadows among the trees. Big shadows. She heard the “Who-who-who” of a great horned owl. “Who-who” answered another. Then Kestrel ducked as two owls swooped down and scraped her head with their sharp talons. “Again?”, she thought. “Birds are attacking me again?