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Updated: June 24, 2025
Then away he sped, and the game would go on for a happy while. But sooner or later they always stopped running, stopped laughing, and remembered why they were wandering the wood alone. Then they would call for Helma. Ivra's voice was shrill and sweet, and rang through the bare woods like a birdsong.
She moved then to Ivra's couch, still slowly and very beautifully, and Eric could see her smile at the little one huddled there, half on her face, one arm thrown up over her head. Gently the fire-girl rolled her into a relaxed position on her side, tucked in the flung arm, and kissed the closed eyelids. Then she stood a minute, looking away, Eric did not know where.
But Wild Star, at the sound of Ivra's voice, leaned back suddenly on the hands he was holding, almost throwing his comrades on their faces, and breaking the line. He turned right about, swinging the others with him, and came leaping and running back. "What is the matter, little comrade?" he asked. "What is the matter?"
He was like a bird taking a bath; there was such happy splashing and dipping. But no bird had ever the gentle soft drying, or was wrapped in such a warm night gown as the mother found for Eric. It was one of Ivra's night gowns, but quite large enough. Then she tucked him into a narrow couch far from the fire. It was the first time Eric could ever remember having slept alone.
"In all your flying 'round the world, Wild Star, you must have seen my mother Helma. She is lost. Oh, can't you tell us where she is?" "Yes, of course. But I didn't know she was lost. I thought she was visiting Earth-friends." "Truly, truly?" Ivra's eyes shone with joy, and Eric grabbed his cap from his head and threw it up in the air shouting, "Hurrah!" "Oh, will you bring her to us right away?"
The youngest Forest Child of all was the only one up so early. He was busily breaking dead twigs from bushes to build his morning fire and making up a little rhymeless song about Ivra's birthday as he worked. This is her birthday, Spring's little daughter Spring's little daughter This is her birthday. Wake now, wake now, All you Forest Children, Wake for her birthday And tie your sandals on.
But when the sun showed that it was noon, Ivra's steps grew slower and slower, dragged and dragged, until at last she stood still in a billow of leaves. "I have to go back now," she said. In a flash all the magic swept out of the day for Eric. He knew he could never say good-by to Ivra, so he stayed silent, looking ahead into the fluttering, golden forest.
Ivra begged. Wild Star looked doubtful. "Perhaps she wouldn't want to come." Ivra laughed merrily at that. "Then take us to her," she said, "and you will see how she wants to come when we ask her." "Give us your hands, then!" They held out their hands. Ivra's was grasped by Wild Star's and Eric's by another Wind Creature. With their free hands they clasped each other's.
He was waked by Ivra's joyous cries just at dawn, and rolled out of his shelter, rubbing his eyes and stretching his arms and legs. But as soon as his eyes were well open he jumped up and uttered a cry of joy himself.
For she, the only one of all who were there, liked them very well and had made them her comrades often and often on windy winter days. And they, who cared for nobody, cared for her. "She is not like anybody," they explained it to each other. "She is a great little girl." But they would not take Ivra's sled as she wanted them to. They had not come to spoil her fun.
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