And, whoever she was, she was completely naked.
She walked across the clearing, to the edge of the lake, and knelt. She looked into the water, and she smiled. Then she began to cry. Quietly. With the same grace, and elegance everyone could see when she walked.
At first, no one knew what to do. Or even what to say. Rose, Dream, Flora, Fauna, Chrissy, Lilly and Sunshine stayed at the edge of the clearing, and watched. Musica, the eldest of the girls, took out her flute, and began to play. A quiet little tune that reminded every one of the sound of water in a mountain stream as it flowed across the rocks and boulders in its way. As she played, she walked from the edge of the forest, to the lake, until she was standing next to the stranger.
Musica just kept playing.
Sunshine walked out of the forest, and she too approached the lake. As she did, the sun itself seemed to shine down on the stranger as she cried. As if it was trying to comfort her. Calm her. Keep her safe, and warm.
Rose followed their lead. She flicked her wings, and floated just above the ground, across the clearing. She stopped when she reached the stranger, and while hovering there, gently placed a hand on the stranger’s shoulder. Then Rose used her wings, as only she could. She danced. In the sky. Just above the lake. Every now and then, letting a wingtip trace a pattern in the lake’s surface. Every movement she made matching the tune Musica played.
Sunshine placed an arm around the stranger’s shoulders, and she spoke. “I’m Sunshine. These are my sisters, Musica and Rose. We live here at the lake.” At least the tears no longer fell from the stranger’s eyes. “May I ask your name?”
“I haven’t got a name.”
Everyone knew that could only mean one thing. The stranger was special in some way. Like each of them. Unique. Different. And misunderstood. Abandoned by her parents. Her family. Each of the fairies remembered the pain they’d felt in their hearts and souls. Each of them remembered their own stories.
Sunshine stood, offering a hand to the stranger. “You are always welcome here,” she smiled. Then she looked at Musica, the tallest of the fairies, “Perhaps Musica can find you something to wear?”
And so the day began. The fairies found clothing for the stranger in their midst. It was too small, of course. After all, she was full-grown. The clothing barely covered her breasts. And the skirt wasn’t really a skirt at all. It was a bed sheet, tied around her waist. Both were blue and white. They couldn’t find any sandals that were large enough to fit her feet, so she went barefoot.
The fairies fed her berries, cheese, and jerky. Taking care of her. Making sure she had plenty to eat, and plenty to drink. The stranger smiled. And somehow, when she did, everything seemed alright.
The stranger was indeed full-grown. Her wings were fully developed, and she could fly. Not as well as Rose, of course, but the stranger could fly very well indeed. She couldn’t hover though. Not many fairies could. Rose was one of the few blessed with that much flying skill. But the stranger could ride the air currents. The fairies, even Rose, couldn’t help but notice the grace and elegance of every movement she made through the sky.
Everyone laughed. And had a wonderful time. They even went swimming in the lake. That night Musica let the stranger stay in her home, and Musica stayed with Sunshine.
The next morning, Mystica returned. She watched from her home on the far side of the lake as the fairies all woke up. You can imagine her surprise when the first fairy she saw wasn’t a fairy at all, but the stranger as she came out of Musica’s house. Mystica sensed no danger at all. The white magic indicated everything was safe. So, she stood on her front porch, and watched.
The stranger walked across the clearing, to the edge of the lake. There, she stripped everything off, and walked into the water, where she quietly bathed. Mystica noticed the elegance, and the grace in every move the stranger made.
Merlin, the black magic dragon, came out of the shadows, as he always did. Appearing out of nowhere. “Do you know what she is?” he asked of Mystica.
“I’ve never seen anyone like her? Is she a fairy?”
Merlin sighed. “Only in part. Only in part.” Merlin watched the stranger as she bathed. “She is very rare, White Witch. Very rare indeed.”
“In what way?”
“Let the white magic tell you. It will, if you ask.”
Mystica closed her eyes, and wished, “Who is this stranger in our midst?” The surface of the water of the lake began to change. It showed two pictures. One of a female angel. A real angel. The kind with feathered wings. The other of a fairy warrior. Mystica watched as the images told the story of the angel’s fall from the sky. Of the warrior finding her. Mending her wounds. Treating the broken bones in her wings.
It was the story of a forbidden love. Love between an angel and a fairy. The angel never returned to the sky above. The fairy abandoned everything he was. The two of them finding a home of their own in the ice and snow to the north. Where the elves lived. And with time, the angel bore a child. A daughter. Half angle. Half fairy.
Mystica realized the daughter of that angel and her fairy love was the stranger bathing in the lake.
Calling forth her white magic, Mystica floated across the water, hanging in the air next to the stranger. She smiled, and asked, “Do you have a name, dear one?”
The stranger smiled at Mystica, “I do not.”
“Why have you come here?” Mystica found her self asking. Knowing angels only appear when they need to.
“I am meant to be here,” said the stranger. “At this lake. With the fairy girls. And their Mother. Msystica.” She looked at Mystica. “My heart tells me this.”
Mystica smiled. “Then you are always welcome here, dear one.”
That morning, Mystica took the stranger into her home, finding clothing for her. It wasn’t much, and was very revealing. But it just felt right. As if the stranger were meant to be naked, not clothed.
From that day forward, the stranger lived with the fairies at the lake. Adopting Mystica as her mother. No one ever learned how old the stranger was. Or where she’d come from. She remembered nothing. Not even her name.
It was the first time the stranger went with Mystica to one of the villages to get supplies that the stranger got a name. When a male shop keeper saw her enter his shop with Mystica, looking for some cloth, and sandals, the male shop keeper could not help himself, and asked out loud, “Can I help you, Miss Hooters?”
Mystica had blushed. But the stranger hadn’t. She’d just smiled. “I like that.” She’d looked at Mystica, “I now have a name.”
And from that day to this her name as always been Miss Hooters. And no one save the fairies of her family, and the dragons, Merlin and Scream, know that she’s a half-breed. Half angle, and half fairy.
And no one at all, not even Miss Hooters herself, knew what her wild magic powers were.