After the thunder rolled away, Flicker zipped into the mossy clearing and stopped dead. The rainbow had cracked into seven broken arcs lying across the wet grass, each stripe dull and flat.
She cupped a dewdrop on a broad leaf beside the red stripe. It shimmered crimson, then dripped through her fingers and soaked the moss. She blinked, tips her head, and tried again with the orange stripe. The drop clung, glowing warm against her palm.
One by one, she visited each fallen stripe: violet, indigo, blue, green, yellow, and red. She let each dewdrop rest against the glassy color and watched it soak in and brighten.
With every stripe that glowed, a soft chiming sound rang out across the clearing — ping, ping, ping — until the moss itself seemed to lean closer to listen.
Violet hummed first. Then indigo joined with a low bell-like tone. Blue, green, and yellow each added their note until the whole clearing hummed with color.
Flicker touched the last dewdrop to the red stripe. The sky shivered. All seven colors lifted upward together, weaving through the dripping clouds like ribbons on a breeze.
For one breathless second they hung perfectly still — bright, round, humming — before settling into a full rainbow that painted the whole sky.
Flicker rested on her belly in the moss, chin in her hands, watching the rainbow glow steadily overhead. A single warm drop of rain tapped her nose.
She smiled, then tilted her face up to the colors and hummed the same note the rainbow hums. The clearing answered with a soft, warm hum of its own.
The rainbow held steady above the clearing, each color singing its pure tone. The moss drank the light like a slow, satisfied sip.
In the heart of the mossy clearing, the little fairy drifted into a gentle hover, wings beating slowly, watching the colors dance above her.
And if you listened very closely, you could hear the rainbow still humming — the same note Flicker hummed, bright and steady, carried on the warm evening air.
