On a clear day, the skybarque Ilma sailed the sky. Salomea stood on deck, gazing upon an expanse of green forest below. She clapped her hands and laughed.

The Captain, who had just walked past, paused and moved to stand at her side along the railing. He, too, gazed down, but saw nothing humorous. Just the unbroken green.

“Lady Salomea, what amuses you so?”

She turned her head to face him. Her grin was wicked. “All the things down there, Captain. They pile against each other. One can’t even tell where one tree ends and another begins. The cities are made of felled wood or stone; dead wood may rot. Stone cannot grow. A primitive world, don’t you think?”

The Captain’s brow creased, a rare line in the face of an eternal star elf. He frowned. “Is this funny to you?”

“Yes, and delightful! Just think how brief their lives are, and how soon even their most renowned works crumble. The whole thing is hilarious.”

He gave her a penetrating look. Lady Salomea was a rare beauty, even among the star elves, with hair so black it almost seemed blue, with rich indigo skin, and eyes in which galaxies danced, if one looked. She was a masterful wizard, her power respected and created. All knew of her grace as a dancer. She was aloof even by star elf standards, but this seemed especially extreme.

The Captain pursed his lips. “Milady, you are our only passenger. We came to this world to replenish our air and water. If you’d like to see that which amuses you closer up, we can land in a forest clearing with little chance of being spotted. My crew will be glad for the rest if you wish to explore.”

She inhaled. “Yes, Captain! I must see the chaos for myself.”

The Captain signaled a landing and the skybarque descended.

The air warmed and became moist as they went lower, and soon the scents of soil and water and life curled about their vessel. When it lit, it made no sound, touching the floor of a forest clearing with the force of a breeze.

Salomea leapt over the white railing, touching down on the mossy earth with the force of a whisper, faint as a caress. Her feet made no depressions below her.

The Captain watched her vanish into the forest. He wasn’t worried; she was powerful enough to deal with any danger. He had a rebellious fantasy that maybe she wouldn’t come back, then sighed and started arranging a leave rotation for his crew.

Under the forest canopy, Salomea stepped over a root. The ground was beyond uneven, offensively so by the standards of her home planet. Still, her grace was unmatched, and she easily avoided tripping.

“Curious how quickly the sounds of the crew disappeared into the trees,” she whispered to herself. Then she stood still and closed her eyes.

There was an uneven wind in the trees and the rustle of animals about. She could pick out numerous and varied small creatures with her elegant pointed ears, some climbing trees, others chewing bits of grass, and she could sometimes even hear a bird at rest, which stuck out as a stillness in the tapestry of sound.

Her insubstantial diaphanous robes swirled and fluttered around her in the breeze.

She began walking again, more slowly, starting to notice the complexity of the overlapping life, the odd way the trees shared ground, or struggled for their own stretch of soil. It was then that she was surprised by a bull elk, massive and white-furred, which stepped from the trees in silence. She should have heard it breathing, at least, but she hadn’t.

It stared at her. “Sir Elk, you must be more than you first appear, or else how could you move so silently, or regard me with such concentration? You’ve been touched by the land of the fairy. I see it in your wise eyes.”

The elk nodded its head. Salomea giggled in glee.

The elk turned around and looked over its shoulder, then tilted its head as if requesting she follow it.

Salomea stared at it skeptically. “Okay, but this better not be some fairy trick.”

She walked behind it. It didn’t look back, it just moved at a comfortable pace beneath the trees.

She heard the water before she saw it, and she saw the water before she noticed the tall elf standing in it.

The pond was crystal clear and fed by a low waterfall. In its center stood a dream, a vision from one of Salomea’s nighttime fantasies. The figure was an elf woman, taller than any she had ever seen. Her body was lean and rangy, with sleek muscles and high, small breasts. Her hair was pink and long and clung wetly to her back.

She was gloriously naked, every curve of her sun-kissed and freckled skin on display. Salomea couldn’t help but look down to the narrow strip of pink pubic hair between her thighs; just above it and to the right, the elf woman bore a small green tattoo of a five-pointed star. Salomea’s mind went blank when she saw it. The sheer cheekiness of it made her face hot.

She glanced up and saw the woman’s eyes meeting hers, her hands behind her head, running her fingers through her hair. Her ears were delicate and shorter than Salomea’s, and there was a slight bend in the points that made them cute. Her eyes were brilliant green. She smirked.