You are Anonymous, and you are a powerful and respected wizard.
 
...Or at least you were, until those stubborn assholes on the White Council declared you a rogue sorcerer, or somesuch bullshit.
 
You use lethal force one time, just ONE TIME, and they're on your ass forever. It's not like you WANTED to rely on the Black, but there were extenuating circumstances, and besi-
 
The throbbing in your head reminds you that there are three Wardens slamming up against your door. You don't know how long your protective enchantments can hold out; those Council bulldogs are
tough.
 
You whirl back to the runes you were scribing. Only an idiot would cast this sort of transport spell. An idiot, or a desperate man. You were probably a bit of both.
 
You needed a place to lay low, and figured that the Nevernever was your best bet, since the Council's reach didn't extend there. And while you certainly weren't pleased with your options, at least Queen Titania owed you a favor from that...one time. Of course the Wardens would be watching any of the regular Crossings. Nothing can every be easy. So you'd have to tear across yourself. Thaumaturgy was always your focus, and you knew that if you just had the time...
 
The pounding reminds you that you don't. Dammit, how did they find you so fast? Did some asshole sell you out? You only told one... and there's that feeling in your gut, like you just swallowed a bag of gravel. Aria. The Red Court vampires were really getting desperate, everyone knew. But you had thought, lying in her arms, that it could be something special...
 
With a bone-rattling crash, you feel the last of your wards disintegrate. Those Council dogs would be on you in moments, and you still hadn't calibrated the transport spell. Without a properly-focused destination, you could be dumped anywhere or anywhen in the Nevernever.
 
But wherever or whenever would still be better than the here and now, with a trio of White Council Wardens about to smash their way into your sanctum and cut off your head. You like your head right where it is, thank you. Sighing, you snatch up a single satchel -all you'd had time to pack- and draw a quick breath before jumping into the rune circle.
 
---
 
Light, bright as you'd never seen. And then the swell of grassy ground beneath your...face. OOOFFF. The taste and smell of loam, as you land nose-first, body-second, tumbling as the wind is knocked out of your chest and the wands you were carrying scatter. Always hard landings, you lament.
 
It's all you can do to struggle and groan to your feet after several precious moments spent retching up breakfast. Teleportation never did sit well with your stomache. The first place you look is backwards, over your shoulder, scanning the air for even the faintest shimmer that might indicate that the Wardens were coming. The bastards were infamous for their tenacity.
 
Tense moments pass. Nothing. No incoming teleportations. No Wardens. Your sigh of relief is audible. You crack a grin. Given them the slip again, haven't you, Anonymous?
 
And then you look around. And curse. You had thought you were jumping into the Never-Never, not fucking Oregon. A pristine pine forest extends as far in any direction as you can see. Sure, it looks a little darker than your everyday-run-of-the-mill-Pacific-Northwest, but compared to the Sidhe kingdoms it's practically shining. Your whole body shudders to think of what the realms BEYOND the Faerie might look like.
 
Okay, maybe you just hopped into the border between Summer and Winter. Maybe the Fey Courts had reached some weird standstill since you'd been back. You shrug, and decide to head downhill. Even Titania, faerie royalty, couldn't refuse to pay back a debt.
 
And if you were still in the mortal realm? At least you were a long way from Detroit. You could gather supplies and cast a spell to get your ass out of here before the White Council even knew you'd arrived.
 
---
 
It got dark as you made your way through the woods, and you were never happier to see the sun crash from the horizon so sporatically. You could swear it almost made a little cartoony creak before falling, only to be instantly replaced by a crescent moon and some very...unusual stars. So you were in the Nevernever after all.
 
You couldn't help but smile. A wizard like you? Of course you could slip between the White Council's fingers! Only a fool would doubt your prowess. Then the cold set in. A fire evocation for warmth?
 
Red-hot embers fly from your ears. For a moment, you're deafened by the sound of crackling flame. Then you feel the burning. Ouch! Fuck! Shit! Wait...damn! It burned!
 
Okay, what the hell was that? Changing your own heat was amatuer...no! hedge macician stuff. You knew better than that. Once again, you called up the evocation and...
 
Nothing. Well, not nothing, just a gout of flame from your nostrils and the sensation of inhaling habanero sauce. But then nothing. Okay, so wherever you were in the Never-Never, your magic was going to stop cooperating. You rock back on your heels as you ponder that thought. It's a scary one.
 
Magic is all that you are, all that you can be. You were never much, not until your mother told you about your lineage, about how you were descended from great wizards, and you just HAD to be a great wizard too, to make them-
 
Okay, no fire. You should move then. It's only after five minutes of walking that you hear them howl.
 
---
 
Wolves. Well, they sound a lot like wolves, but you're in the Faerie world, so it's probably at least a hundred times worse. Probably wolves that devour your spiritual sense of self or something... wait... that sound? One foot, in front of the other. You're running? Right, you're running. Good job legs. Remind me to throw you a party later.
 
You sneak a peak back. Yep, wolves alright. Except, you know, made out of bark and twigs. Wooden wolves. Just the sort of thing an angry fey queen would send to shred any trespassers. Not that you're trespassing... after all, she owes you a favo-
 
You don't even see the root that catches your leg. You just tumble end over end down the steep, rocky slope.
 
---
 
Your head comes to rest against a stone wall. Well, "rest" might not be the best word. More like "abrupt and forceful halt". You curse the stars that swirl past your vision. You sit up, and curse Titania for her poor hospitality. Clutching your head, you curse the Wardens for chasing you here into the Nevernever. Facing the sky, awash with glowing stars, you curse Aria for giving you up to them. And then, curling up into a ball against the cold, you curse Jason most of all, for making you kill him with the Black.
 
---
 
Okay, so falling asleep under the stars might be dramatic, but it was fucking cold. You needed to find some shelter. You prop yourself up, leaning against the low wall. Good thing the moon is so bright. Looking around, you spot a large rectangular building several yards away.
 
A barn? In the Nevernever? You chuckle. It's just so...mundane. But what the hell, it would do. Using the wall for support, you pull yourself to your feet and stagger over. The door isn't locked, either. Lucky. Sliding it open -just a crack, so as not to startle any animals within- you take a quick look. Hard to tell in the darkness, but it seems empty except for some farming tools, sacks of seeds, and bales of hay. Not exactly the Ritz, but you'd slept in worse places. This wouldn't even be the first night you'd spent in a barn...not that you'd ever admit it. Great wizards didn't come from podunk country towns. Present company excepted. Sliding the door shut, you climb up to the loft. The hay smells clean, and is surprisingly comfortable. Clutching your satchel close to your chest, you drift off into a deep, dreamless sleep.
 
---
 
Bright light. Morning. An earthy smell, the sound of birds, and...voices? Voices. Damn. Three of them, two female, one deep and male. Their language is unfamiliar. Not Seelie. Thankfully not Demonic. Doesn't sound like Unseelie either, but you're not completely sure.
 
Maybe it would be best if you just left. But hey, might as well take a peak before you do. Could give you some clue where you are. Stealthily rising into a low crouch, you make your way over to the edge of the loft- and promptly trip on a pitchfork buried beneath the hay. You stumble forward, flailing to keep your balance, and tip right over the end.
 
With a thump you land on a pile of seed bags. Smooth Anonymous, real smooth. Well, at least you had a lucky landi- a high-pitched, feminine scream echoes through the barn. Then the male voice again, rumbling like low thunder. You can't understand the words but you certainly get the tone.
 
Holding your hands above your head, you stumble to your feet. Right, no sudden movements now. Don't want to- BWAHAHAHA! Standing in front of you are two tiny horses. Two colorful, tiny horses. And the orange one, is that a...? PFFFTTTAHAHAHA! It is! The little orange horse is wearing a fucking cowboy hat! Your laughter fills the barn. This is just too rich.
 
The bigger red one is crouching now, and you're pretty sure his posture is aggressive, but the orange one in the...pffttt...cowboy hat just looks confused. Looking at them now, their faces don't much resemble horses: their eyes are much larger, more expressive, and instead of long snouts they have short little upturned noses and small mouths. It's actually quite...adorable, and they remind you of the pixies you'd met.
 
Still staring, the orange one says something you think is directed at you in that strange language of hers. The voice is recognizably feminine. "I'm sorry," you reply. "I can't understand you just yet." She cocks her head a bit and continues talking. Definitely not speaking Unseelie.
 
Slowly, trying not to startle Big Red, who is still eyeing you warily, you reach with one arm for your bag. You'd had a bit of trouble with evocations last night, but you were always a better thaumaturgist, and this would be a simple spell, one you knew by heart. Keeping your gaze on the two small horse-things, you fish around until you find what you need. Holding it between thumb and forefinger, you present the mockingbird feather triumphantly. The horses look at you with utter incomprehension.
 
Shrugging, you utter a few arcane words and pass your hand over the feather, setting it aglow with a soft yellow light. Judging by their expressions, it seems your hosts have finally caught on. Maybe they don't get many humans in this part of the Nevernever, but everyone recognizes magic. Placing the feather beneath your tongue, you trace a few runes in the air, feeling the pinion dissolve with a tingle. That should do it.
 
You put on your most charming smile as you greet the two creatures before you. "Olleh, I ma eht draziw suomynona."
 
Wait. What? Your words had come out all garbled. Frustrated, you try again. "Dias I, ym eman si suomynona." You groan, rubbing your temples. Why couldn't anything just WORK?
 
The orange horse turns to her companion. "Gib cam, ha kniht ew retteb og teg thgiliwt." Hold on. She wasn't speaking the same language as before. Too many vowels, emphasis on too many different syllables. And she sounded distorted, somehow. Like her words slowed down and sped up in all the wrong places. Almost like listening to a record played in rever-
 
You slap your forehead. So your spell did work. "Tpecxe won, gnihtyreve si gnikcuf SDROWKCAB!"