“The portal!” shouted Valeleaf, flying his moth straight into the streetlamp.
It’s just a streetlamp,” called Thistlehorn.
He sighed. Secret missions into the human world were tough enough, but their portal back home had moved. Add to it, Fae knew in their bones lights were signs of powerful magic. And they couldn’t resist charging any light. In the human world, lights meant little.
Thistlethorn sighed. He knew where the portal moved to. He could only imagine the frenzy when the new guy saw millions of lights in Times Square for the first time.
Written for the Friday Fictioneers: https://rochellewisoff.com/2021/03/24/26-march-2021/