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Logan's always been a curious child.
His mother condemns him for it, but kindly. Curiosity killed the cat, she tells him, ruffling his autumn brown hair, but she never finishes it, no matter how much he wishes for it. Satisfaction brought him back.
His father doesn't understand him. Never has. His father is a farmer, swarthy and stalwart. He understands cows and pigs and horses. He even, when he can be bothered, understands chickens. A wayward child with a penchant for asking questions is as alien as the cracked and pitted surface of the moon.
The others in the town don't understand. His teacher scolds him under her breath. The other children make fun of him, always having his nose in a book, always preferring reading to playing. He's weird and he's strange and at the core of it all, he's different. They don't like different.
Logan is twelve when he discovers the faerie ring in the forest.
He knows about them, of course. He's read about them. And besides, this is one of the few subjects his mother is happy to discuss at length. If you ever see a ring of mushrooms, you come straight home, you hear me? That's a faerie ring. They're dangerous, Logan. Never forget it. They'll take you away and I'll never see you again.
Privately, Logan's always felt that might not be such a bad thing. Oh, he loves his mother. He does. He loves both of his parents. And he's sure they love him. But they don't understand him and that hurts more than anything sometimes.
So when he sees the ring of mushrooms, he doesn't turn away. He doesn't run straight home, into his mother's apron and his father's rough hands.
Instead, he takes a deep breath and steps right in the middle.
For a moment, nothing happens. Disappointment swells, sour on his tongue. Then a breeze picks up, swirling around him where no wind echoed before. Logan blinks and a stranger sits cross-legged in the air before him. A faerie. Logan's mouth sags open.
"Well?" The faerie demands. He looks young, although Logan knows appearances are deceptive. "What do you want?" The faerie has dragonfly wings and a grey streak in brown hair. Eyes like quicksilver peer out from beneath this grey streak. Incongruously, freckles dot his cheeks.
"I was curious," Logan answers honestly. The faerie smiles and Logan notices how sharp his teeth are.
"Curiosity killed the cat," the faerie sing-songs, flipping upside down. "Satisfaction brought him back," he finishes, and Logan smiles.
"What do you want to know, human boy?" The faerie asks. Logan pauses a moment. He hasn't really thought this far. He wasn't sure anything would actually even happen. His mother has been wrong before, after all.
"What's it like?" He asks.
"Would you like to find out for yourself?" The faerie asks. There is a peculiar glint in his silver eyes, one that Logan chooses to ignore. For a moment, all he can hear are his mother's warnings, echoing in his ears.
"Yes," Logan whispers. "Yes, I would." The faerie flips right side up, grin sharp, as he extends one fine-boned hand.
"Then hold on," the faerie advises. Logan hesitates, fingers hovering in mid-air.
"Can I come back?" Logan asks. "Here, I mean?"
"Yes," the faerie says. "But you won't be the same as before you left."
"I don't care," Logan admits, and takes his hand.