Today was the day we had been waiting for. My age group had finally advanced enough to get to choose our familiars. Most kids hoped for a dragonet, eagle, wolf, or something else exciting and dangerous. Reality had a way of disappointing children by giving them a familiar that was a mouse, cat, squirrel, or dog when they came of age. Some were disappointed even further by not finding their fated familiar. This was rare but did happen. The people were looked down upon and often considered a second-class citizen.

Still, it was a very exciting time for my village as it marked a new generation’s passage into adulthood. I suppose the same was true for the rest of the kingdom, but since most of us would probably never leave Beau Ferry most of the villagers didn’t care. I jumped out of bed dismissing those thoughts.

The sun would rise in minutes, and I expected it to look terrific over the water as a coastal storm had blown through last night. My family lived on the outskirts of the village near the water. Father was a fisherman while mother was an alchemist, so it made sense. I exited my room and slipped out the backdoor and caught my right foot on a fishing line that had been fastened at just the right height to trip a person across the doorway. My face ate the porch. Light laughter could be heard above me. I looked up and saw two pixies up on the roof.

“I’m going to pluck your wings if I get my hands on you!” I shouted at the little menaces. The red head ducked away from sight on the roof by my outburst while the blonde laughed hard enough to fall off the roof. Her wings spread and flapped lifting the magical creature up into the air where it continued to laugh.

Pixies are magical creatures that were tiny, winged people that happened to be mostly female. They measured 5-6 inches in height and maybe weighed a pound. Mages and alchemists considered them a resource. The wings were a potent source of magical powder. It was rumored that enchanters used them to power lights and other things. Nobody in the village could afford such a thing so it was still considered just a rumor by most folks. Pixies wore scraps of cloth as clothes and loved ribbon and other finery. They understood spoken speech, but no living person has ever said if pixies can talk that I knew of. A few of the older villagers said pixies would sometimes help those in need by doing housework or other simple chores though I’ve never had one help me. No, every pixie I’ve ever seen just plays pranks on me.

Well, that’s not entirely true. When I was maybe five or six, I remember playing and dancing with a few pixies. The memory has mostly faded over the years, but it comes back at times like this. The sharpest part of the memory is that my parents were angry when they caught me playing with the pixies and them chasing off the winged creatures.

I sighed, dismissed the memory, and sat up. I undid the string and stood up. I stopped by the small shack behind our house father used to store his equipment and dropped the string in a basket with other broken bits. I shut the door and headed to the beach. A couple minutes later I sat on the sand just outside of range of the waves washing up on the shore. I picked up a shell and tossed it into the water while I waited. Perhaps I should have worried about monsters, but I wasn’t. Mother’s work produced odd smells and kept most monsters, insects, and animals away from our home. Pixies were the exception except for the rare times she used pixie wings to make magic powder. The creatures stayed far away whenever that happened.

Yellow, orange, and red reflected off the mirrored surface of the bay as the sun rose above the ocean. I watched for a while longer as the sun rose higher into the clear light blue sky. A few gulls chased each other and a couple of pixies across the water. I heard someone walk up behind me but didn’t turn to see who it was.

“It never gets old does it?” a female voice asked. A crow called as well.

“The sunrise?”

“Of course.”

“No ma’am. Beau Ferry is in beautiful country. Good morning by the way.”

“Good morning and that’s true. Come on Jase. You can help make breakfast since your father and Rust are already out hunting,” mother said. Rust was father’s wolf familiar.

“Yes ma’am,” I replied as I stood. I followed mother and her crow familiar, Kyra, back into the house.

*

“Get dressed, clean your room, and go,” mother told me.

“You’re not coming?”

“We’ll be there in an hour or so. I want to wait for your father,” mom answered. “Besides, I remember what it was like at your age. You want to go alone.”

“That’s true,” I admitted.

Mother stepped over and pulled me into a hug that I returned. “My baby is growing up.”

“I love you too,” I told her. She released me.

“Be ready to help me gather some herbs and other plants after lunch. That will give you the morning to get to know your familiar.”

“Ok mom,” I replied and started to my room.

“I should have given you a haircut.”

“I don’t think the familiars will care about my hair,” I called back. Kyra called her disagreement which made me look back and smile.

I opened my door expecting to see my bed still in disarray since I had left it that way along with some clothing on the floor. To my surprise the bed was made, and the clothes were folded and sitting the bed. My mouth fell open in surprise. “What the?” I asked myself in shock. Mom had not made my bed since I was five and she taught me how to do it. A giggle sounded from the rafters. I looked up and saw the blonde and redheaded pixies sitting there looking down at me. I shut the door after walking into the room.

“I suppose you want a reward?” I asked them. In answer the pixies took flight and dragged my bag of honey drops out the open window. “Hey!” I called. More laughter was the only response I received as the pair flew out of sight. I shrugged. I had always gotten seasick, so I learnt alchemy, herbology, and cooking from mom instead of joining dad on his fishing boat. “Oh well. I can make more later.”