True to his word, the fae bought both tarts for Avery in the form of two enchantments for the store owner. For his patronage, the fae got a third dessert as a gift.

"I'm Fletcher, by the way." The fae handed the box of pastries to Avery, giving a short bow.

"Avery, nice to meet you." Avery acknowledged, feeing a brief urge before he bowed back respectfully. "We can take the more scenic route, if you'd like. There's a path near a friend's place that heads all the way to mine."

"That sounds nice!" Fletcher agreed. There was a bout of silence as they approached Ed's place en route. Glancing the house Fletcher perked up. "Your town's famous painter lives there, doesn't he? How extraordinary." His tone dipped into admiration.

"Yes, Ed Pechman." Avery nodded. It had been a surprisingly long time since he'd addressed Eddie by full name. "He does oils, acrylics, a veritable ton of mediums. I couldn't tell you what the differences are between them." He said, watching Fletcher curiously before he would turn back to observe the gravel path underfoot.

"Did painting never appeal to you?" Fletcher asked. Avery paused at the question.

"Well, maybe when I was younger? I asked Ed to try his paints, and gave up after a few strokes." Avery wished that was hyperbole. It took a moment for him to realize Fletcher's interest: Fey couldn't do art of any sort, whether it was cooking, baking, painting, drawing, or playing music. He glanced to the open window of Ed's room briefly, wondering if he had a customer as the house began shrink in the distance.

"What of just drawing? Or perhaps baking?" Fletcher offered with a gleam to his chocolate eyes.

"No and no." Avery dismissed. "If you were looking for talent, I don't have any."

"Then you're useless here, aren't you?" Fletcher laughed as if it were the funniest thing. "A talentless little creature. Poor thing, but I wouldn't worry about such trivial things, if I were you..."

Avery tuned out, staring at their feet when he couldn't look at Fletcher anymore. Somehow, being told that to his face by a fae made it a hundred times worse. They went on in silence now, Fletcher seemingly oblivious to its cause while Avery awkwardly stared anywhere but the fae. Suddenly, Avery noticed Fletcher's feet suddenly vanish from view. He glanced back. "What's wrong?" He asked.

"Oh, nothing." Fletcher replied with a pleased look. Avery followed his gaze, eyes landing on the train tracks before he'd move to Fletcher's side.

"No trains come through here anymore— obviously." Avery said, arms crossed as he stared into the forest of trees. "But they used to, long ago. Then fey complained of the iron tracks, and thus, there went that. There may be some iron left on here, stripped or not, so I'd be careful if I were you."

"I see. It's sort of a shame. I'd like to see a train." He murmured, leaping up onto the tracks. He took one step after another, tempting himself to fall onto the rails. Though without fail his perfect balance saved him from a stupid end.

Avery walked between the tracks to follow him. "You never have?" He asked, more surprised than he probably should have been. After all, fey were practically exclusive to old-fashioned towns like theirs, ones that followed the Good Law. "Well, they're these convertibles that travel on rails. Think about many boxes chained together, painted in a variety of colours."

"They're very pretty then?" Fletcher asked as they reached the edge of the woods where the underbrush swallowed the tracks.

"I think so." Avery was imagining graffiti-laden trains, but supposed those without had a charm to them too. He looked to the woods uncertainly before Fletcher spoke up:

"Aren't your curious about the great unknown?" The fae purred, looking back to Avery. "A little peek won't hurt. Will it? And I'll even call that the end to the walk, if we go in there." Fletcher gestured vaguely into the woods.

Avery felt curiosity well up inside him, rules forgotten, and said: "Sure, why not?" Famous last words.

The two journeyed into the woods, Avery for the first time, Fletcher for the latest time. The underbrush was a vivid green and the grass underfoot seemed to have been compressed through use, forming a path for travellers through the woods. The further in they went the less this path continued, and before long Avery was left with nothing but gnarled roots snagging at his feet. The canopy overhead thickened, light choked into oblivion. Avery started to slow. "Do you know where we are?" He began to turn before a hand pressed firmly to his back.

"Home." Was all Fletcher said, before shoving Avery to the ground. Before he fell, Avery swore he heard a muffled voice call to him.

Avery's face screwed up, eyes shutting tightly, but never face-planted into the ground. Avery sucked in a breath, tempting fate, and opened his eyes. He was inches from the ground, and barely had time to take in the patch of buttercups beneath him before flopping to the ground with a gasp, nose poking into the soil. He sputtered and pushed himself up, rubbing the dirt away before shaking his head and looking around, eyes wide. Rather than the large forest of home he was in a field of wildflowers. Bristly stalks poked up from the mass of colour dotting his surroundings, from the blue of ground-ivy and red clover to the red of wild calla and red trilliums. Avery could imagine himself laying down for a rest in such a lovely meadow, if the circumstances were different.

"Home at last." Fletcher appeared suddenly, popping into existence just beside him. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

"Where are we?" Avery asked, his panic growing, eyes fervently looking around. He spat out a few petals he'd ingested post-face plant into the field.

"How impolite. It's the Spring Court, of course." Fletcher gestured around them, as if it were the most obvious thing.

Avery's thoughts spiralled. He'd been tricked? Suddenly, Ed and his mother's words came back to him: Always make overly specific deals. Always make them promise you no harm— but now was too late for that. He'd made his first mistake by agreeing to an overly general walk, one that could theoretically go anywhere and continue indefinitely. His second mistake had been agreeing to go where the fae had gestured into the woods. In retrospect, it was evident Fletcher had pointed to a mushroom circle in the woods. Mistakes made, Avery had to accept them, and find a way home. "Why am I here?" He found himself asking, not expecting an answer. Fae kidnapped for far less than a reason.

"I was curious of course." Avery had been expecting Fletcher to say something like that, but hadn't been expecting his addition: "Curious what you were doing with them. But I think I've solved it!" Fletcher smiled, turning back to Avery, arms outstretched. He bent down to Avery's level to kneel in the dirt.

"You caught my attention immediately: that smell, it was interesting. Juniper and eucalyptus, such a strange, unique combination." Fletcher held Avery's jaw up with one finger, inspecting him.

His fingers ghosted his features, thumb rubbing along his cheek before beginning to trace along his skull, resting behind his ears. He rubbed Avery's ear's shell, eyes intent. Avery's face was burning. "But with such diminutive, improper ears, you had me fooled, little Changeling."