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Summary
None of the fairies knew where Felix had come from. One summer evening, he had been sitting by the pond, barefoot and dripping with dew. There were no other pixies in that part of the forest, not for many years. The other fairies stayed back, watching from the trees, but Chan had spoken to him. Felix could only say his own name in reply. Every time Chan repeated it, Felix giggled, his little freckled face glowing with happiness as he pointed at himself, then back at Chan. He touched Chan’s cheek, and that had been enough.