The pot gurgled and fizzed with the occassional whistle. A heavy aroma filled the air. In the hollow of a tree, a delicate hand stirred a giant pot, only stopping to add more ingredients. Diced, minced, grated, puréed and mashed, they were promptly tossed into the pot and the aroma became thicker and richer. Finally, the hand stopped and scratched its chin. Something was missing. A nose breathed deeply. Maybe a spice? perhaps a carrot? A fish head? “ughk” a mouth in the corner of the hollow twisted in disgust. No fish heads.
A head popped from the hollow of the tree, a golden ponytail followed in pursuit. Two wings emerged, like that of an insect and in haste ran off. The fairy escaped, forsaking her stew. A mouth in the corner of the hollow twisted further.