"As you can see by the diagram, the wiring node designed to fit into the sump storage of the left aft wing tank has been compromised by...."
"And I am going to die before the end of this meeting if I can't get up to stretch my legs," thought Sarah Dishong. Greg Robinson, Assistant Vice-President for new product engineering had been going on for an hour, no, make that one hour twelve minutes. She carefully ignored the hand on the clock tracing out the seconds (... 37, 38, 39...) to prevent becoming too impatient.
As newly appointed corporate spokesperson for Griesson Aviation Products, she had been invited to the annual corporate administrative retreat. Corporate spokesperson. Her mother had been thrilled to hear about her new job, but after a few months it was obvious that her main role was to be the cute young thing badgered by the press for details about any bad news Griesson Aviation Products was forced to reveal. PCBs in a dump near Grad Raids, Michigan? "Oh, we're still testing to be sure if there is a problem. Be assured that Griesson Aviation Products is committed to a clean environment, and if there is any problem, we will not rest until everything is cleaned up to the public's satisfaction." Be assured nothing would damage the balance sheets of Griesson Aviation Products unless it was absolutely necessary. Never fear. Sarah's here.
"So young and so cynical." C. B. Griesson, VP of Finance and third son of founder Wentworth B. Griesson, had chided her the other evening during the cocktail hour before dinner. That wasn't all he'd said to her that evening, but she had slipped out of his clutches when he went after his fourth drink. He was rapidly heading towards unbelievably obnoxious, and Sarah was afraid a fourth drink just might do it.
Her eyes wondered around the meeting room's conference table. They would soon be finished for the afternoon, and after three days of these meetings, she was looking forward to the chance to get outside and away from the conference. For a moment her eyes lingered on Roger Lockwood, Vice President of Marketing. Now there was a hunk. She would love to get him out in the woods alone for a while. Suddenly he looked up and his eyes met hers and he smiled. Embarrassed to have been caught staring, she glanced away.
Suddenly she realized that Greg was making finishing up noises. Praying for no questions, Sarah was ready to leap from her seat. Yet, she paused to carefully reshuffle the papers which had been distributed for Greg's presentation (Engineers and their diagrams. Good Grief!). Mentally sprinting down the hall, but actually casually filing along with the rest of her conference mates, she engaged in idle chit chat until she could break away to her room.
Within moments she was into her running shorts and t-shirt and out the door of the hotel. The one good thing about the retreat was Forrest Hills Resort. A winter ski lodge in the upper peninsula of Michigan, they kept things going the rest of the year by catering to corporate clients wanting a scenic get away. There were miles of hiking and ski trails, and Sarah needed to let out her pent-up energy by exploring as many of them as she could.
Three miles later she was well into the woods along the red trail when she decided to take a break at a picnic clearing along the trail. Forrest Hills had created these little clearing and provided them with rustic wooden tables. Some of them had water and rest room facilities. She went over to the pump and in a few strokes had flowing water to quench her thirst. Soaking her sweat band in water to cool her head, she walked around the little clearing. At one edge the trees opened and the clearing dropped away into a little valley with a vivid blue pond at its center. She could see quite a ways across to the next little rise. In fall color the view would be gorgeous. Now it was merely luscious.
Looking down she saw a few wild flowers. Without thinking, she bent to pick one. The flower came away with the gentle tug of a separating stem, but she felt a wiggle and looked down startled. Reflexively, she stumbled back as she tossed the thing away. She reacted before she thought, and when she did think, she thought, "Snake!"
But it wasn't a snake. As she fell back she had a confusing glimpse of the figure of a tiny little man flying along where she thought she'd thrown the flower. She sat up and rubbed her butt where she had landed on a tree root. A tiny little man? "Oh, Sarah. These conferences are getting to you," she told herself.
Then she heard a tinkling little voice. At least that's what it sounded like.
"Free, free. Free again. Puck is out and about, and this is the day, no doubt."
Her heart was already beating rapidly from a rush of adrenaline, and her breath was noisy in her ears. She woofed out a breath and started to get up. The lady is crazy in the head.
"Oh, pretty lady! My freedom, my joy. Welcome to my forest."
A man no more the four inches tall stood in front of her. He seemed to pop up from no where and, startled, Sarah froze. Sitting on the ground she could see him clearly. Yes, a small, perfect figure of a man with strange green and purple clothes — the same color as the flower she'd bent to pick. He smiled at her.
"Thank you, thank you. Puck thanks you for picking his flower so he could get out and about for a while. Now and again they do it, but never enough. Puck likes the fresh air and sunshine."
"P- P- Puck?" she stammered. You mean, like in Shakespeare...?" She couldn't believe she was talking to this, this, little man? What had they put in the ice tea this afternoon?
"Oh, that is Puck, but what a funny tale that Bard did tell."
Sarah breathing had slowed somewhat, but the little apparition appeared just as solid as he had been at the start. He turned three cartwheels then tumbled over a twig. Sitting on the ground now, he looked up at her.
"Such a pretty lady. Welcome to my forest. I have but a brief time, but you have made me happy today, so may I make you happy too?"
Sarah still was trying to understand what she was seeing. "Puck? How did you get here? Don't you belong in England with the other..." She tailed off because she realized she was going to say he belonged with the other fairies, and that, of course, was silly. Fairies?
"Oh, yes. Robin Goodfellow at your service. England was my home. But you remember Titania from the story?"
"Uh, queen of the fairies?"
"The very same! Well, we had a falling out over a little trick I played. She was sorely vexed with old Puck. You folk would say, she was truly pissed at little me!"
Sarah rolled on to her back and looked at the sky through the trees. "Ah, Puck. I'm going crazy. I guess junior high literature class warped me more than I thought."
She felt something land on her chest. Puck stood looking down at her from just beyond her chin.
"Pretty lady, what may I call you? I am in your debt and I would address you properly."
She sighed. "Sarah. Sarah is my name." Then she giggled and asked, "And you don't mind if I call you Puck? You won't play a trick on me by making me into a frog or something?"
"No, no, no, no, NO! You let Puck out to play. I wouldn't do anything to you. Puck likes tricks, yes, but only tricks for laughter. For you I would do a trick to make you laugh and feel good. The others, now that is a different story. Puck loves to find people who think themselves important. They can't laugh at themselves, so Puck helps."
