Eventually I had an idea how I could cheer Suki up. I got a thistle leaf and cut the prickles off with a vegetable knife. When I offered that to Suki she brightened up straight away.
I discovered the snag soon after. The vegetable knife is small as knives go, but it’s still too big for the pixies to handle. So I found I’d got a job, cutting prickles off thistle leaves. After a while, Suki introduced me to her brother Siôn, and then to her cousin Lily. As more pixies turned up, it started taking longer and longer to prepare enough thistle leaves for them to eat.
Eventually I managed to find a pair of scissors that was small enough for them to handle. Suki’s other cousin Ithric arrived. They took turns trimming prickles off the thistle leaves with the scissors, and then they ate the leaves with—not exactly enjoyment, but relief.
One day I found all the pixies in the garden, and I asked Suki what they were doing. ‘We’re planting more thistles,’ said Suki brightly. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’
It was hard to say no, but I wasn’t keen on having my garden used as a thistle farm. While I was trying to see a way out of this conundrum, though, I noticed something else. The pixies’ inner lights were becoming dim, and their wings dull. Suki had only a tiny glow left, Siôn a little more, and so on, until Ithric looked almost normal.
It was clear what was happening. The pixies’ strength was coming from the prickles, not from the rest of the leaves. When we realised this, Suki was distraught—but her glow started to return, once she began eating prickly leaves again. The other pixies simply moved out. Now all I’ve got is one homesick pixie and a garden full of thistles!