Armed with a moonleaf cloak and a pouch of sparkleberries, Lucky set out. The glade dimmed behind her, and the twisting, shadowed Tanglewood opened its thorny jaws.
Inside, whispers danced through the trees, voices that echoed her doubts.
You don't belong.
You're not real fairy.
You'll fail.
But Lucky pressed forward.
As night fell, she found an injured moth with silvery wings.
"I'm not afraid," she told it. "Not really. Maybe just... a little."
The moth blinked. "Then that makes you brave."
It was her first friend on a very long journey.