In Sevrin’s folklore, moonbeams and sunbeams provide pathways for the fey, who travel quickly and invisibly along the beams of light.  The young, the highly credulous, and the intoxicated have been known to take to the woods with fairy sieves–wooden hoops that resemble hand drums, but with fine mesh rather than solid hide–in hope of capturing a traveling fey in mid-slide.

The pixie folk find it both amusing and insulting that humans believe they can be trapped in this fashion, and they are not above messing with those who attempt it.

Askur and Bejarki, two fishermen who recently ran afoul of the Winter Wolves, found themselves in need of gifts to sooth over a certain misunderstanding with their wives and sweethearts. They discussed their problem over a supper of soup and berry tarts at their favorite tavern, and they stayed to share a pitcher or two (or possibly three) while they listened to the tales of a certain dark-eyed storyspinner. One of these tales convinced Askur that a caged pixie would be just the thing to restore him to good odor with his mistress.  And what better time to hunt? A full moon had passed its zenith and would soon send long rays slanting through the pine forest on the village edge.

The friends fitted some herring net to the rim of an old drum and took to the forest. Promising moonbeams abounded, and they soon had the trap strung up so that streams of moonlight passed through the net. They settled down in a nearby thicket to watch and wait.

No more than a minute or two passed before something hit the trap with a sharp thwap. To the fishermen’s horror, the fey traveler passed through the net and splashed into the snow in a tangle of crimson wreckage.

As they stared, a tiny, winged skeleton rose from the snow and darted toward their hiding place. A chorus of tiny voices filled the clearing, shrieking the fishermen’s names and promising vengeance. The men leaped up and fled the forest as fast as their shaking, ale-soaked legs could carry them.

Behind them, a dark-eyed winged girl fluttered down from a pine tree, followed by a small flock of snickering pixies.  The illusion surrounding the skeletal pixie faded away, and she joined her friends in their moonlit feast–a berry tart, sliced into pixie-sized bits by its encounter with a herring net.