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"My Wandering Lady – A Faerie Tale" by reiqua
A lone Whoot winged his way over Meridell. The countryside below was dark. In scholarly Brightvale it was not uncommon for oil lamps to burn late into the night. But Meridellians had no time for such frivolities. They lived off the land, and rose before the break of dawn. So in these hours of darkness, they slept. But tonight was different. At just one point – in a clearing not far from Illusen's glade – a light glowed. The gypsy camp, predictably. Gypsies tended to upset the natural order of things wherever they went. A large fire burned in the gypsy camp tonight. Around it sat a ring of Neopets. Not gypsies, these. No, they were Meridell locals who had come from all the lands 'round about. For tonight was a special night. Tonight, the Teller of Tales would tell the story of the Wandering Lady. A couple of 'pets shivered in the cold night air. The Teller of Tales, an ancient Pteri, pulled her ragged shawl more tightly about her. Its dull brown blended in to the dull purple of her feathers. Apart from the warm crackling of the fire, the night was silent. The motley circle of Neopets around the fire didn't speak a word. Sometimes they gazed mesmerised into the ever-changing flames. At other times, they stared at the peculiar Pteri at the head of the circle. In spite of her old age and her ragged clothes, she hadn't lost any of the beauty of her younger days. Everyone silently awaited the moment when the Teller of Tales would begin her story. But she was in no rush. For a long while, the warm silence stretched. At length, she opened her mouth and croaked “Let me tell you a story of long, long ago.” Every eye in the circle turned to her, rapt. Then, her voice gathering strength as she spoke, she began her narration.

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