"Well, come on," Seamus pressed.

"It's a fairy," I said. "She came out here and died of a broken heart."

He sighed heavily. I could hear him step closer, then he crouched, looking at my hand. "No, love, it's a bird. Now come inside, will yeh? The game's got on."

"I don't give a wit 'bout your stupid game."

"Well, I-" His temper had flared, but he'd stopped it early this time. He must really have wanted me to go back inside. After a moment, I felt his hand awkwardly pat my shoulder. "Come on, now, love. You'll catch your death of cold."

I ignored him.

"Come on with me, and we can put your," he cleared his throat, "your fairy in a nice resting place. A proper burial, don't you think?"

 "Fairies don't get buried," I replied imperiously. I really didn't have the first wit of what was proper with fairy remains, but it felt good to argue.

 Seamus grunted, a sure sign that he was giving up. His hand squeezed my shoulder, then vanished, letting the frigid air have his spot. It seemed to grip there more coldly than anywhere else on my body.

Which was fitting, I thought. Seamus would leave anything he touched colder than it began. Even so, another part of me wished desparately that he would gather me in his arms, kiss me, hold me, and tell me how much more important I am than any silly game.

"So fairies don't get buried, eh?" A voice behind me asked, bright and crisp. "What do ya suppose they do with 'em, then?"

I looked over my shoulder, ready to holler at Seamus' friend that if he wanted me to come in that badly, he'd have to come back out himself and carry me in, fairy bones and all.

But it wasn't Seamus' friend who sat on the rocks, looking fit and clean in a neat green suit and puffing on a rough pipe. The wee man's hat nearly matched his suit, which is probably why I never saw him before. He blended perfectly with the grass. A vaguely interested expression rested on his face as he waited for me to answer.

At first, I was too shocked to really show it. "I'm not sure."

"Yeah, 'tswat I thought." He puffed again, then hopped off the rock and started walking away.

"Wait!" I cried, sitting up. "What am I supposed to do with them, then?"

He glanced over his shoulder for a moment, then turned and wandered back. Sliding a hand under mine, he carefully closed my fingers around the tiny bones. "You folks 're made right from earth, ey? Dust to dust. We folks 're made from water. 'Swhere she was trying to get, see, for her resting place."

I looked out into the dark gloom and heard the gentle crash of waves on the sand. Standing carefully, I looked down at the little man for confirmation. He nodded, gesturing me on with his pipe.

Taking a deep breath, I walked out until I felt the icy water swirling around my feet, soaking into my shoes. Feeling a need to say something, I drew myself up grandly. "Water to water, and..." I paused, searching for the right words. "And... and drops to drops." With that, I reverently lowered my hand into the water and opened it, letting the waves lazily carry away the tiny bones.

A chuckle came from behind me and I turned around, but the wee man was nowhere to be seen.