All around her lounged a dozen elf maidens, wisps and nymphs. They murmured and giggled occasionally, but let her rest. None drew her to dance. None tormented her, or plied her with strong drink. They knew she carried Puck’s child, and as a son of Oberon, he might not be pleased if they hurt this maid who carried his unborn child. When finally she awoke from her exhausted state, her hazy mind could hardly credit what she saw. Piskin, his arms crossed, stood upon her swollen belly, gazing down at her with a stern expression. She pushed her heavy body up into a sitting position and swatted at him. He hopped away without concern and crouched next to her. She looked around, but the silver-haired elf maidens and dancing wisps were gone. She felt a pang of sorrow to have missed them. It was strange to think they were related to the child in her belly. Cousins, she supposed they were. “No birth?” Piskin asked. “What?” she said sleepily. “I did not bring you here to nap upon a hill in twilight, maid,”
