Pixie was not born in a nest or a cave or a hollow log. She appeared one morning with a twirl of petals and a puff of rainbow light, halfway through telling a story no one had started. She spoke so fast that the wind itself had to pause to listen.

From the moment she bounced into Tiny Tales Land, Pixie’s world has been full of love and stories. She remembers everything and forgets nothing at the same time. One second she’s hugging a frog, the next she’s halfway up a tree shouting, “Wait, wait, wait, I forgot the best part!”

Pixie talks with her hands, her tail, her ears, her eyes, her laughter. Her stories don’t always follow a straight path. They zigzag. They loop. They sometimes skip to the end and then bounce back to the beginning with, “Oops! You need that part for this part to make sense!”

But the thing is—Pixie’s stories aren’t just words. They’re love letters. Each tale is her way of saying, “I see you. I care. I remember what you felt, and I want others to feel it too.”

She doesn’t speak in soft whispers. 

She shouts love from rooftops. She interrupts herself with compliments. She throws flower petals in the air when someone finishes a sentence. And when a creature is feeling small or sad, Pixie wraps her tail around them, tells a tale just for them, and makes them the hero of the story.

She’s the reason creatures sit closer in circles. The reason even the quietest voice gets heard. The reason everyone in Tiny Tales Land knows they are part of something big and beautiful.

Because when Pixie says “Once upon a time,” what she really means is, “I love you—and here’s how I’ll show you.”