Once upon a time there was a waterfall that was a portal between worlds.
She loved her work. She loved defending her faerie kin against the evil bad guys who sought to capture, enslave, and work them to death. She loved freeing them, as cunningly and courageously as Harriet Tubman did.
Call her Araminta, for that is her name.
Once upon a time there was a boy who helped her, but not really. He was decent, for a boy. But he wished to cross over to another world. He wished to pass through the waterfall to the kingdom beyond. And she didn’t want to.
“If you leave,” she told him, “I will too.”
But he did not really want her, and she already knew that. Hadn’t he told her as much, in both actions and words? Though he acted and spoke differently at other times? Yet another double-minded youth.
“If you leave,” she told him, “That is your choice, and from there, I will make mine.”
He chose. He crossed that threshold, passing through the waterfall and into another world. And she did not watch him go.
In time, her time in her world was done. She had completed her work to the best of her ability, and her work there had changed her, some for the good, and some for the bad. A brief home, but one needed at the time.
And then she left, and never returned. She went to a distant country. One that no one knew of but herself. And there, she had grand adventures that are too long in the telling to be put down here. Suffice it to say, there were many wonders, and yet more joys than can ever be dreamed of.
She took herself into the silver boat, slipped into the river, and vanished into the forest of green. And she was never heard from again. But sometimes, if you listen, listen carefully, you can hear her distant laughter carried on the faraway wind, that faerie wind coming from another world–her world, where she belongs.
And that is the tale of Araminta, the fairest, most cunning of the Folk.