Amara & the Locked Door

Amara Kai'alani Kinkaid was four years old, going on forty-seven. At least, that's what Luna Momma always said when she caught her trying to do things that were far too big for her tiny frame. Like reaching the cookie jar on the top shelf. Or feeding Sergeant under the table when no one was looking. Or, apparently, wandering off into the woods all by herself.

It wasn't like she meant to get lost. She just wanted to see where the path went.

The path started at the edge of the pack lands, right behind the old Williams' house, where the pine trees grew so thick that the sunlight came down in golden, dusty beams. Amara had followed it before, but only as far as the big mossy rock that looked like a sleeping bear. Today, she decided to go further.

The further she went, the quieter the woods became. The birds stopped chirping. The squirrels stopped scolding. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath. But Amara wasn't scared. Luna Momma had taught her that the woods were full of magic — you just had to know how to look for it.

And then she found it.

The cabin was small and old, with a roof that sagged just a little in the middle and a chimney that looked like it might crumble if you sneezed too hard. But there was something about it that felt warm. The door was painted a faded blue, and wild roses climbed up the side of the porch like they'd been growing there for a hundred years. A wooden sign hung above the door, but the letters were too worn to read.

Amara didn't knock. She was a Kinkaid, after all — and Kinkaids were curious.

She pushed the door open. It swung inward on silent hinges, and she stepped inside.

The cabin was small and smelled like lavender and old wood and something sweet, like honey. A fireplace took up most of the far wall, its hearth wide and welcoming, even though there was no fire burning. A rocking chair sat beside it, and a small table held a single teacup, as if someone had just stepped out for a moment and would be right back.

Amara wandered around the room, her fingers trailing over the dusty shelves, the worn books, the tiny jars filled with things she couldn't name. She found a feather as long as her arm. She found a jar of what looked like starlight. She found a tiny broom that was smaller than her hand.

And then she saw it.

Next to the fireplace, almost hidden by the shadows, was a little door. It was smaller than her, with a tiny iron handle and a keyhole that looked like it hadn't been opened in a long, long time.

Amara's heart did a little skip. She loved little doors.

She looked around for a key. She checked the windowsill. She checked the hearth. She checked under the rug.

And there it was — a tiny brass key, small enough to fit in her palm, resting right where the rug met the floor, like it had been waiting for her.

She picked it up. It was warm.

She fit the key into the lock. It turned with a soft click. The door swung open.

Amara dropped to her belly on the rug and peeked inside.

She was expecting darkness. Or dust. Or maybe a little storage space for firewood.

She was not expecting a tiny bedroom.

The room was no bigger than a breadbox, but it was the most beautiful thing Amara had ever seen. The walls were hung with silken spiderwebs that glistened like diamonds. A tiny bed was tucked into the corner, made of twigs and moss and a single feather for a pillow. A miniature table held a thimble full of tea and a crumb of cake on a leaf.

And sitting on the tiny bed, looking deeply unimpressed, was a pixie.

She was no bigger than Amara's thumb, with wings that shimmered like dragonfly wings and hair the color of autumn leaves. She had her tiny arms crossed over her chest, and she was tapping her tiny foot.

"Excuse me," the pixie said, in a voice that was surprisingly loud for someone so small. "But it's not very polite to break into someone's home without even a how do you do."

Amara blinked. "I... I'm sorry?"

The pixie fluttered up off the bed and hovered right in front of Amara's nose. She reached out a tiny hand and booped her right on the tip of her nose.

"Apology accepted," she said. "But next time, knock."

Amara giggled. She couldn't help it. "You're so tiny!"

"I'm petite," the pixie corrected, with a dignity that would have been ridiculous if it wasn't so adorable. "There's a difference. I'm Pinx, by the way. And you are...?"

"I'm Amara. I'm four."

"Four," Pinx repeated, nodding sagely. "A very good age. And you smell like magic, Amara."

"I do?"

"Mmhm." Pinx fluttered a little closer, sniffing the air around Amara like a cat investigating a new smell. "Like the big sparkly lady who comes to visit sometimes. She brings me honey cakes and fresh tea. Did she send you?"

"Luna Momma?" Amara asked. "No, I just found the cabin by myself. I was following the path."

"You followed the path," Pinx said, her eyes widening. "The one with the mossy rock that looks like a sleeping bear?"

"Yes!"

Pinx let out a low whistle. "That's not just a path, little one. That's a fairy path. You must have a lot of magic in you to find it all by yourself."

Amara beamed. She liked the idea of having magic.

"So," she said, settling onto her belly and propping her chin on her hands. "How come you're locked up in a fireplace?"

Pinx looked deeply offended. "I am not locked up," she said, drawing herself up to her full height. "That's silly. I just use the chimney when I want to go out. I can fly, you know. I've been all over these woods. I've seen the wolves, the deer, the great big lake. I just... choose to stay here."

"Why?"

Pinx paused. She fluttered back to her little bed and sat down, her wings folding against her back. "Because the big sparkly lady visits me. She brings me good things to eat. There's always tea to drink. And it's quiet here. Safe. No one tries to catch me or put me in a jar." She looked up at Amara. "You wouldn't put me in a jar, would you?"

Amara shook her head so hard her braids flew. "Never! I would never put a pixie in a jar!"

Pinx smiled. It was a small, shy smile, but it was real. "I thought you might say that. You smell like good magic."

"Luna Momma says I have good instincts," Amara said proudly.

"Your Luna Momma sounds very wise."

"She is," Amara agreed. "She can throw people with her mind. And she makes the best peanut butter sandwiches. And she has purple fire in her eyes when she gets mad."

Pinx looked impressed. "Purple fire?"

"Mmhm. It's very cool."

They talked for a while after that. Pinx showed Amara her tiny bedroom, her collection of dewdrops, and the little acorn cup she used for her tea. Amara told Pinx about the pack, about Kyle and his matchbox cars, about Sergeant the dog, and about how she was going to be a big sister to some twins who were still in Luna Momma's belly.

"A whole litter," Pinx said, shaking her head in wonder. "You wolves are very busy."

"We're not wolves," Amara said, giggling. "Well, some of us are. But I'm just Amara. Luna Momma says family is what you make it."

Pinx nodded slowly. "She sounds even wiser than I thought."

Amara was about to ask another question — something about why Pinx's wings were so shiny — when a sound cut through the quiet of the cabin.

"Amara!"

It was Daddy's voice. He sounded far away, but he was getting closer.

"Mara! Where are you, baby girl?"

Amara scrambled to her feet. "That's Daddy! I have to go!"

Pinx fluttered up to her eye level. "You come back and visit me, Amara. Promise?"

"I promise!" Amara said, already scrambling for the door. "I'll bring you a honey cake!"

"I'd like that," Pinx said, her tiny voice following Amara out the door. "And don't forget to lock the door behind you!"

Amara didn't forget. She pulled the little door shut, turned the key in the lock, and tucked it back under the rug where she'd found it. Then she ran out of the cabin, through the woods, and straight into Daddy's waiting arms.

He scooped her up like she weighed nothing at all, crushing her against his chest. "There you are, little moon. You scared me."

"I was just 'splorin', Daddy!"

"'Splorin'," he repeated, his voice a low rumble. "You're going to give me a heart attack, you know that?"

"I found a cabin!" she announced, wiggling with excitement. "And a tiny door! And a pixie! Her name is Pinx!"

Daddy exchanged a look with Luna Momma, who was walking toward them with a knowing smile. He started to open his mouth, but Luna Momma just placed a hand on his arm.

"Pixies," she said, her eyes twinkling in that way they did when she knew something she wasn't telling. "They're very particular about their tea."

Amara nodded seriously. "She likes honey cakes."

"I'll remember that," Luna Momma said. She kissed Amara's forehead and brushed a stray leaf out of her hair. "Now, let's get you home. I think Sergeant has been waiting for you to share your dinner."

Amara nestled into Daddy's arms, her eyes already getting heavy. She thought about Pinx, and her tiny bed, and the little door that was almost smaller than her.

She was going to go back. She'd bring a honey cake. And maybe a thimble of milk.

And she'd knock this time. Because Pinx was right — it was only polite.