A Little Bit of Light

1931, Calypso River, Greece

The sun shines through the water. Bubbles move along with the current, and I cast my eyes up to the sky.

"Calypso," a voice whispers.

There are places still untouched by time. Places of naiads and nymphs, places of fairy magic. My mother said the Greeks had it all right, but my sister said they had it all wrong. Still, I knew both to be true.

They didn't know about my wings.

When Amity Gardner was fifteen years old, she met Calypso. Calypso, or Cal, was sweetly evil, which was the only thing Amity was sure of. But Amity didn't like nice people, so that was good.

Calypso was unusual. She had long blue hair the color of the Calypso River, which was a small, unheard of little brook that trickled through the back forest of the hostel they were staying at. Amity didn't know where Calypso was from, and didn't know her to well, but that was how the relationship worked. Neither girl knew each other well, and did what they liked and said what they liked and liked each other, but not too much. Amity thought it was refreshing to have someone to be around who wouldn't judge her and gave honest opinions, and besides, no matter what happened, when winter was over she would likely never she Cal again. Cal's thoughts on the matter was only that she knew Amity's secret and had made up her mind to help her.

Did Amity know Cal knew her secret? No. Was it better that way? No.

It had been a long day. When Amity got home, her mother and sister were asleep on the couch. They'd been watching something on TV, but Amity couldn't tell what. She draped a blanket over them and flicked off the TV.

Then she went to change.

It was a pretty dress, the only pretty thing Amity owned. She'd felt bad about cutting the holes, but she was a skilled enough seamstress that it looked fine. She slipped it on and delicate gossamer wings peeked out of the holes, sliding in naturally. She let her long black hair come undone out of it's rigorous braid and slipped on delicate shoes. The night air was crisp, yet a warm breeze brushed her cheek. She no longer felt invisible. She felt faerie.

Cal thought Amity didn't know enough to know Higgins. Amity thought Cal didn't know anything at all.

Higgins was, in question, a satyr. He was also an amazing party planner and threw great ones. This one was in the woods, and lanterns were strung up everywhere, like the most beautiful jewels. There was refreshments, delicate sparkling ciders, roasted nuts and delicious salads.

Oh, and the people. Dryads, the spirits of the trees, frolicked and laughed. Naiads and nereids, the creatures of fresh and salt water. Pygmys, the earth spirits, the half goat satyrs, fae with wings and colored hair. Who would think Amity would fit in here, but she did fit in, because she was a faerie in part, and she looked so beautiful and completely and utterly fae, and Calypso was full naiad, so who could tell? Which was how they both fell for the same guy.

A dryad. A Pear dryad, precisely, with clothing of leaves and a laurel crown, which was how you could tell he was a winner. And his eyes! All the beauty of a ripe pear, which looks quite normal when you think about it, but both girls were waxing pear poetry about his eyes. Love is a funny thing.

And maybe, just maybe, they were both a teeny bit drunk. But the brambleberry wine was... yes. Too good for words.

And then came the lemon dryad. Sweet as lemonade and oh so pretty, but to Cal and Amity, sour as the fruit can be. Which was how they both rushed out at the same time and collided and knew at once, and hated each other for some time.

Amity, being the nice one despite her hate of nice people, made amends first. She put on a simple dress and hid her wings and went down to Cal's brook.

She dipped her finger in the water.

"Cal, I know you're there."

No answer.

"Calypso."

The water burbled.

"What?" Cal snapped. She stopped. "Oh."

"Ca, please. I'm sorry. I should have told you I was... well, like you."

"What? Why? You didn't know you were like me, you thought you were like you. Or... you do know other fae, right?"

"Yes. I've met many. I think the bloodline is on my father's side."

"Look, I wasn't mad at you. Just surprised." She looked up. "At any rate, a pear dryad isn't worth it anyway."

Amity smiled, and Cal sighed, and the two spirits splashed in the river.

2014, Calypso River, Greece

An old woman hobbled through the "protected woodland". To her, this would always be the forest where she'd met the greatest friend she'd ever known. Where she'd been met her husband, where she'd been married, where she'd lived and loved and laughed.

She smiled, remembering a party so long ago. After she'd left Greece, she wrote letters to Cal. Lots of them. And they had been young together, and that isn't something you forget.

And now they were old. Amity had had children, three of them, with wings like hers and green hair the color of fig leaves like their fathers. She knew she would not she them again, nor her husband, yet she smiled out of love and the memories they had.

Amity was old, yes. And she was dying. She was no fool, she knew her time was up, and she was grateful for it all. But she wasn't dead yet, and she would spend her last with-

"Calypso?" she called out, and made a move to sit down at the brooks' edge.

A still young naiad emerged from the water. "Hello, Amity."

The old woman smiled weakly. "Good times, Cal. That's what life should be about."

And the two women looked up at the delicate slice of sky that shone through the trees, streaked with sunset colors of pink and gold and thought of every little bit of light.