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This picture is an illustration for Lily's friend,talented author of fantasy stories,LiterarySerenity:

www.deviantart.com/literaryser…

Here is a glimpse of Tinker Town,a town inhabited by both human and magical creatures.

I draw this picture based on the suggestion of my great patroness,muse and queen,Lily-in-snow:

www.deviantart.com/lily-in-sno…

Here is the link of LiterarySerenity's story:
Chapter Eleven: Family TiesHoratia awoke the next morning feeling drained but more relaxed than usual. There was nothing of the tightness within her that had become such a normal sensation since her accident, and she shifted about on the mattress of the guestroom bed and listened to the tolling bells of The Grand Clocktower. They seemed to slide into her perked ears and fill her senses. She gave a sigh and wondered, in a vague way, what had happened to result in this calmness. Of course, this little thought was exactly what cracked open the great gate of recent memories, causing an overwhelming stream of shame to come pouring forth. Her whole body fluffed up in embarrassment as all her hysterics from the previous evening, from snapping at Wispy to storming out of the toyshop, did a merry, taunting jig before her mind’s eye. She had made a scene. She had blurted out so many bewildering and infuriating things. A yowl worked its way up her throat, but Horatia clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle it, burning anew with guilt. But a sort of whining moan escaped from between her lips that caused Petri to stir, cock his head at her, and give an inquiring, “Coo?” “I was a mess last night, Petri,” Horatia confessed as the mechanical assistant flew onto her shoulder. “At least you didn’t see it. The whole thing was like… well, it was as if I was breaking apart,” she tapped her head, “in here.” Petri made soft clucking sounds and nuzzled her under the chin. “Well, don’t worry about me.” Horatia hobbled out of the guestroom and along the landing. “I feel much better now. In fact, I feel better than I have since we wound up here at Unique Toys. Maybe we are even ready to return home to…” She paused halfway down the stairs, unsure of exactly what had made her stop. “Ready to return home to…” she tried again, and trailed off again. What was stopping her? She knew what the ultimate plan was—to recover at Unique Toys, and then to go back where she and Petri belonged. Back to The Grand Clocktower. "Because, after all, you wouldn’t just go up and stay put forever, would you?" Wispy’s words were like the final echoes of a dream. Horatia shook her head. “Well, we can get back to helping with the clocks, and then figure out things from there,” she murmured, and this time everything flowed out smoothly enough, although Horatia couldn’t help but think there was something important that she had forgotten. Something to do with Wispy amid all the things the Will-of-the-Wisp Dragonfly had shouted at her amid the confusion. As they passed through the front room, the toys broke into a joyous buzz of activity. They bounced on their shelves, tooted whistles, squeaked, or proclaimed their morning greetings with the greatest amount of enthusiasm could remember since Horatia and seen them the first time. Petri took the unexpected surge of excitement in stride and tweeted his greeting to them. “Ah, good morning,” Horatia addressed the room, in general. “You’re more active than usual.” The toys broke out into a fresh round of applause. What had them so happy? She wondered. However, as they drew close to the kitchen door, the toys suddenly went quiet. Horatia would have turned to look at them if she hadn’t then picked up the strains of an animated conversation on the other side of the door. “Well, well, well, that is wonderful news!” Mr. Gimble declared. “Horatia will be in the first best of hands from now on.” They were talking about her. Horatia froze mid-step. “Ah, now don’t flatter me, Mr. Gimble,” Wispy replied. “Besides, we’re all in this together. Someone has to set her straight, and it doesn’t mean you will stand on the sidelines.” Her tail frisked left and right. What did this mean? What exactly did they mean by their intention to “set her straight?” Then Gargle gurgled. “Okay, I guess you can go get her,” Wispy said. “Just spring it on her gently, though. She’s a sensitive one.” Sensitive? Horatia was sensitive? The kitchen door flung open so suddenly, Horatia went tumbling backwards. She cried out in surprise at the sudden drop, which might just have matched the intensity of the surprise Gargle clearly experienced at noticing her. But soon the surprised shifted into something else, as the gargoyle’s glowing eyes widened, and the light on the tip of her tail brightened until it nearly blinded Horatia. A little like how bright Wispy had gotten when she declared… …oh. The memory came rushing back as Gargle, swishing her tail back and forth, pulled out her clay tablet and wrote, “Good morning, god-sister!” God-sister? What in all the hours of the day was a god-sister? Horatia opened her mouth to ask the question aloud, only to get cut off by Gargle picking her up to hug her tightly—as easily as she might a plush toy. Petri clucked as Horatia’s feet left the ground and Gargle gently rocked her back and forth in the air. “Ah, good, you’re finally up,” Wispy said. “Gargle was just about to get you.” She was sipping from a large cup of tea set on the kitchen table. Meanwhile, Mr. Gimble set down a forkful of scrambled eggs to nod at her. “Good morning, Horatia, and congratulations. I hadn’t realized you had been so busy last night.” There was a calm smile on his face. “You should be very proud of this milestone.” “I’m confused,” Horatia replied. “What exactly did I do?” She looked at Petri. “Or am I still dreaming?” This bizarre scene certainly didn’t feel like one. Getting congratulated by Mr. Gimble after she had vented her insecurities on Wispy seemed a little too weird to be a dream. “Of course, you’re not dreaming,” Wispy huffed. “Really, the very idea.” Mr. Gimble chuckled. “What I was referring to, Horatia, was the fact that Wispy here has decided to become your fairy godmother. There are many old legends of Will-of-the Wisp Dragonflies guiding those in need, as a sort of conscience. And the ones they choose to help often lead remarkable lives filled with adventure and fortunate events.” “And I take my responsibilities very seriously, as I have mentioned before,” Wispy declared proudly, puffing out her chest. “Okay…” Horatia murmured, trying to keep up. “But, umm… then what is a ‘god-sister?’” “Why, Gargle is, of course.” Wispy shook her head as if exasperated at having to explain the concept. “Gargle is under my official guidance as well, which makes her your god-sister. Your older god-sister.” Horatia considered that statement. She lived alone up in The Grand Clocktower for a long time, and she suspected Gargle might, in fact, have been chronologically younger than her. However, the way Wispy said it suggested introducing such logic to the equation would lead to a futile argument on her end. So, instead, she asked, “Does it really work that way? That’s so… so…” “Some things are that simple,” Mr. Gimbled soothed. “You should be happy. Oh, and I guess you should be going.” “Where?” Horatia asked as Gargle set her down. “We have an address to visit down on Cross Way,” Wispy announced, “where there is a couple who should make a perfect fit for the nursery toys. Going at this earlier hour will mean less crowding on the streets, and we can slip along without much fuss.” Horatia blinked. Ah, so it was something to do with the toys. She glanced at Mr. Gimble. “I would be happy to help with any clocks you need repaired.” “Why are you asking about clocks, Horatia?” Wispy huffed, tweaking her on the ear. “I told you we have other work to do.” She turned to Gargle and nodded, at which the gargoyle wrote on her tablet, “I’ll get the cart,” aimed another happy gurgle at Horatia, and ran off. “But… but…” Horatia murmured. Mr. Gimble walked over and patted her on the head. “You’ll get to see one of the clocks that have broken down elsewhere in Tinker Town tomorrow, and the ones in the workshop,” his eyes twinkled, “are all in very good repair, I’m happy to say.” He winked at her. “Good for you, my little friend. Welcome to the Unique Toys crew.” “But you’ve already welcomed me to Unique Toys,” Horatia replied, knowing for sure that she was missing something. The frustrating thing was she suspected it was something as apparently important as the whole fairy godmother and god-sister business. “I’ve been here for days already!” All Mr. Gimble would say was, “I’ll be minding the shop today. I’m well-rested, so don’t worry about me.” “Hey, Horatia, don’t dawdle,” Wispy chided, flitting towards the front door. “We have a lot of work to get done. Unless you’re feeling poorly.” She paused for a moment to glance back at her. “No, I’m just… confused.” “Oh, good,” Wispy said. “You’re perfectly normal.” She waved a foreclaw. “Come along, then.”***A short while later, they were traveling through the morning streets of Tinker Town. Gargle strolled onwards rather than ran, since Wispy said people might still be in bed. Meanwhile, Horatia lay draped over the rim of the basket as she tried in vain to sort out the last several days in her head. Maybe then everything would make sense again. However she tried to align all the events, however, the whole thing failed to make sense. Everything had been simpler when she remained focused on maintaining The Grand Clocktower. Even if it had been much lonelier… Could she go back to that? They passed storefronts where the owners unlocked their doors, set out folding signs, and waved to them. Windows opened on second floors, and a few people ventured off towards various destinations. Tinker Town was waking up. Slowly stirring like some giant creature shaking off sleep. Her tail frisked to one side, curious at the metaphor. After all, how could a town be like a creature? It was a town. “All right, you two,” Wispy said, zipping about, “our destination will be at Cross Way. Do you have the names of the couple, Gargle?” Gargle dug into a pocket of her lavender robe and pulled out a piece of paper, which read, “Christopher and Fanny Warder.” “Exactly what are you going to do?” Horatia asked. "Why, we have a delivery to make, of course," Wispy said. Gargle paused to write on her tablet, “Mr. Gimble says he has watched Christopher grow up, and that he used to live in the house near where we found the nursery toys. He says that he is as good person, and so is his wife, Fanny.” Horatia thought about it, connecting the dots. If Christopher had been born in and had happened to occupy the same house the nursery toys got tossed out of…” She blinked. “We’re returning them to him?” “Basically,” Wispy said. “Gargle even got Christopher’s name from the nursery toys the other night while she was entertaining them. He must be the same person.” “Did someone say Christopher?” The sack in the back of the cart shifted, and three stuffed creatures stuck out their heads. It was the plush tiger who had spoken. Horatia would have recognized his voice even though he sounded more curious than upset. Then the stuffed tiger happened to see her. “Wait a minute. It’s the server from the other day. The one who shouted at me.” He perked up a bit more, and the other toys stared at her. “The angry one.” Horatia sighed. She had used up any flare of anger she’d had the other evening, and she was about ready just to ignore the tiger’s rudeness and sink down into the basket when Wispy came zipping right past her. “Hey, that’s my goddaughter you’re talking to,” Wispy huffed at the tiger. “Show some respect. She and Gargle are helping you out.” Horatia, who had been on the fringes of the whole thing, murmured, “Well, to be honest, I haven't really—” “They are helping you out,” Wispy repeated heatedly. “And another thing—” At this point, Horatia felt a gentle tap on her arm. Gargle gestured for her to climb down onto the street. “Can you walk?” the gargoyle wrote on her tablet. “For a while, I guess,” Horatia said, remembering the distance she had gone the other evening. Gargle gurgled in approval, wrapped her tail around one of the two handles of the cart, and began to tug it along. She wrote, “Wispy will be giving them ‘a talking to’ for the next several minutes.” When the cart veered off to one side, Horatia grabbed ahold of the other handle, and between them, they kept it straight. “Oh, you mean she is going to criticize them for a bit?” she asked. “Not criticize. Correct them,” Gargle wrote. “She will give them advice.” They moved along the street in meditative silence for about half a block before Horatia sighed. “Look, I can tell there is something big to it, I really can, but I don’t understand. Why is Wispy declaring herself my fairy godmother so exciting?” “Because it makes us god-sisters.” The message was written nice and large on the clay tablet. “We’re family.” “Family?” The word tingled inside her. She almost tripped over her own feet. “How can we be family? We are unrelated. You are a gargoyle, I am a clockwork cat, and Wispy is a Will-of-the-Wisp Dragonfly.” “Wispy called it ‘adopting.’ She adopted me, and now she has adopted you.” “Just like that?” Gargled nodded. “Like you and Petri are family.” “Petri and I are not…” Horatia trailed off, since she realized with a start that having made Petri, and being each other’s only companions for quite a while, they had been all the other one had. “Okay, I guess you’re right,” she conceded. “Petri is like family to me.” She scratched her mechanical assistant under his chin, and he cooed. “Petri is a part of our family too,” Gargle wrote. “Mr. Gimble is a member of the same family.” “Well, while we’re at Unique Toys, maybe,” Horatia said. “But what about when Petri and I leave for… for The Grand Clocktower?” There, she had said it. Gargle gazed at her for a long moment, and Horatia wondered exactly what expression was on the face hidden in those shadows. But then the gargoyle wrote, “You would still be family, no matter where you go. Our family.” This insistence made springs convulse within Horatia. She flinched at the warmth in her chest, worried it signaled something problematic—and, indeed, there came what she could best describe as a vibration. Horatia jerked as, for about five seconds, she became aware of clocks ticking within the surrounding buildings. They were like heartbeats—except that there was one a few streets over that was out of sync. She was distinctively aware of it. Horatia reached out as if towards that one clock, and below her there were additional ripples. A hand touched her shoulder, and everything snapped back to normal. The clocks went quiet, and she was there on the street, with Gargle gurgling in concern and Wispy waving a foreclaw in front of her face. She looked around. “What happened?” “You zoned out, that’s what happened,” Wispy said. “Your eyes were glowing, and it was as if you were listening to something.” She flitted about, checking her all over. “You were using magic.” Horatia rubbed her head. “And Petri began glowing as well. Or, at least his stomach did,” Wispy continued, nodding to Petri. His stomach? Horatia’s eyes widened as she realized, “The Enchanted Powder that Petri ate! It must have reacted to what I was doing, somehow.” Petri clucked, now perched along the rim of the basket. He wasn’t glowing, but Horatia could believe he had been during her strange episode. “Back in the basket with you,” Wispy advised. “You’ve done enough walking about and glowing.” Gargle wrote on her tablet, “We can talk tonight.” She gurgled, and Horatia reluctantly climbed back up into the basket. Soon enough, they reached Cross Way. It was a nice little place reminiscent of Primary Street, although they were single-story homes instead. People were still trickling about, here and there, and Horatia listened as they greeting each other. The liveliness was manageable. And from one of the houses, she could hear the cries of a baby. She perked up, somehow knowing they would stop right in front of its small, picket fence. The nursery toys heard the cries as well. They shifted about. “Oh, I don’t know about this,” the plush elephant said. “It’s too sudden,” the giraffe agreed. “Maybe we should go back. We are not ready.” Gargle came around the side and held up her tablet. The toys stared at the words in confusion, and Horatia realized with a start that they couldn’t read. They had understood the pictures Gargle had drawn, but writing was a mysterious system to them. So, Horatia translated, “Christopher is in there, in that house, and he needs you.” “Hah!” the tiger said, forcing some haughtiness into his voice. “After all this time, do you think he could remember and love us?” Gargle didn’t write it, but Horatia found herself muttering, “You won’t know unless you try.” She couldn’t have begun to say where that thought had come from, or why it felt so right the moment she said it. Regardless, the tiger at last nodded his head. “Right, we’ll give it a try. Take us to him. Take us to Christopher.” Gargle reached into the bag and picked up the toy giraffe and the plush elephant, but the stuffed tiger reached into another direction—towards Horatia. “I want Horatia to carry me,” he said. Apparently, Wispy had told them her name. “Well, I—” Horatia hesitated. “You heard the tiger. Don’t just gawp at him,” Wispy chided. “He wants you to carry him, and you need to help Gargle with the delivery. Go on.” With this extra prodding, Horatia picked up the stuffed tiger, who sighed in contentment as they approached the house. Gargle used her tail to tug the rope for the doorbell, a sound that only made the baby inside cry louder. Horatia could hear the mother, Fanny, trying to gently quiet the child. The door opened. A man stood there, looking tired but good-natured, and he adjusted the spectacles half slipping off his nose to regard them. “Well, good morning there, what can I do for—?” He paused, glimpsing the toys in their arms. “In all my days, those toys look awfully familiar.” In Horatia’s arms, the stuffed tiger gasped. “Christopher. It’s Christopher!” His burst of eagerness was sudden and impressive. The other two toys squealed and cheered. And even though Christopher didn’t appear to be able to hear them, it was clear memories were playing in his own head. Things that Horatia wasn’t privy to, but which were just as boisterous. Maybe everyone had echoes in their heads, sometimes. Like her. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say those were my very own toys from long ago. I thought they were lost forever,” Christopher said. “We’re not lost, Christopher,” the toys were crying. “We’re right here.” Horatia and Gargle held up the toys. “Hmm. For you, your wife, and your ‘bundle of joy?’” Horatia said. It was around this time that Fanny made her appearance, gently bouncing the inconsolable baby in her arms. Christopher carefully took the stuffed toys from Horatia and Gargle. “Thank you,” he said, shaking them here and there in the air near the baby, who paused amid a fresh burst of tears at these peculiar figures that jingled and looked soft and huggable. Little hands reached up for the elephant, the giraffe, and the tiger, in turn. Horatia stood there, blinking. They were all so happy together. Christopher really had welcomed them back, like old friends. Or like long lost family members. As she followed Gargle back to the cart, Horatia wondered at those ties, and for a moment she was almost frightened. If they were connected that strongly to each other, they might never get away from each other. One or more of the other members would, theoretically, always be there looking out and caring for them. They would never be alone. Then she stopped being frightened. Ah, Horatia thought, maybe that was the point. “Looks like that brought a smile to your face,” Wispy said as Gargle helped Horatia to climb into the basket again. The dragonfly patted Horatia on the head. “You never quite forget your first time personally delivering a toy to a family. Really, Horatia, you should smile more often. It suits you.” Then she landed atop Gargle’s floppy hat. “All right, then, let’s go back home to Unique Toys.” Gargle gurgled and obliged. As they left, Horatia gazed back at house with the young couple and the baby. Those toys had waited a long time to be reunited with their family. It had been so simple. What a lovely thought....

Description

This picture is an illustration for Lily's friend,talented author of fantasy stories,LiterarySerenity:

www.deviantart.com/literaryser…

Here is a glimpse of Tinker Town,a town inhabited by both human and magical creatures.

I draw this picture based on the suggestion of my great patroness,muse and queen,Lily-in-snow:

www.deviantart.com/lily-in-sno…

Here is the link of LiterarySerenity's story:
Chapter Eleven: Family TiesHoratia awoke the next morning feeling drained but more relaxed than usual. There was nothing of the tightness within her that had become such a normal sensation since her accident, and she shifted about on the mattress of the guestroom bed and listened to the tolling bells of The Grand Clocktower. They seemed to slide into her perked ears and fill her senses. She gave a sigh and wondered, in a vague way, what had happened to result in this calmness. Of course, this little thought was exactly what cracked open the great gate of recent memories, causing an overwhelming stream of shame to come pouring forth. Her whole body fluffed up in embarrassment as all her hysterics from the previous evening, from snapping at Wispy to storming out of the toyshop, did a merry, taunting jig before her mind’s eye. She had made a scene. She had blurted out so many bewildering and infuriating things. A yowl worked its way up her throat, but Horatia clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle it, burning anew with guilt. But a sort of whining moan escaped from between her lips that caused Petri to stir, cock his head at her, and give an inquiring, “Coo?” “I was a mess last night, Petri,” Horatia confessed as the mechanical assistant flew onto her shoulder. “At least you didn’t see it. The whole thing was like… well, it was as if I was breaking apart,” she tapped her head, “in here.” Petri made soft clucking sounds and nuzzled her under the chin. “Well, don’t worry about me.” Horatia hobbled out of the guestroom and along the landing. “I feel much better now. In fact, I feel better than I have since we wound up here at Unique Toys. Maybe we are even ready to return home to…” She paused halfway down the stairs, unsure of exactly what had made her stop. “Ready to return home to…” she tried again, and trailed off again. What was stopping her? She knew what the ultimate plan was—to recover at Unique Toys, and then to go back where she and Petri belonged. Back to The Grand Clocktower. "Because, after all, you wouldn’t just go up and stay put forever, would you?" Wispy’s words were like the final echoes of a dream. Horatia shook her head. “Well, we can get back to helping with the clocks, and then figure out things from there,” she murmured, and this time everything flowed out smoothly enough, although Horatia couldn’t help but think there was something important that she had forgotten. Something to do with Wispy amid all the things the Will-of-the-Wisp Dragonfly had shouted at her amid the confusion. As they passed through the front room, the toys broke into a joyous buzz of activity. They bounced on their shelves, tooted whistles, squeaked, or proclaimed their morning greetings with the greatest amount of enthusiasm could remember since Horatia and seen them the first time. Petri took the unexpected surge of excitement in stride and tweeted his greeting to them. “Ah, good morning,” Horatia addressed the room, in general. “You’re more active than usual.” The toys broke out into a fresh round of applause. What had them so happy? She wondered. However, as they drew close to the kitchen door, the toys suddenly went quiet. Horatia would have turned to look at them if she hadn’t then picked up the strains of an animated conversation on the other side of the door. “Well, well, well, that is wonderful news!” Mr. Gimble declared. “Horatia will be in the first best of hands from now on.” They were talking about her. Horatia froze mid-step. “Ah, now don’t flatter me, Mr. Gimble,” Wispy replied. “Besides, we’re all in this together. Someone has to set her straight, and it doesn’t mean you will stand on the sidelines.” Her tail frisked left and right. What did this mean? What exactly did they mean by their intention to “set her straight?” Then Gargle gurgled. “Okay, I guess you can go get her,” Wispy said. “Just spring it on her gently, though. She’s a sensitive one.” Sensitive? Horatia was sensitive? The kitchen door flung open so suddenly, Horatia went tumbling backwards. She cried out in surprise at the sudden drop, which might just have matched the intensity of the surprise Gargle clearly experienced at noticing her. But soon the surprised shifted into something else, as the gargoyle’s glowing eyes widened, and the light on the tip of her tail brightened until it nearly blinded Horatia. A little like how bright Wispy had gotten when she declared… …oh. The memory came rushing back as Gargle, swishing her tail back and forth, pulled out her clay tablet and wrote, “Good morning, god-sister!” God-sister? What in all the hours of the day was a god-sister? Horatia opened her mouth to ask the question aloud, only to get cut off by Gargle picking her up to hug her tightly—as easily as she might a plush toy. Petri clucked as Horatia’s feet left the ground and Gargle gently rocked her back and forth in the air. “Ah, good, you’re finally up,” Wispy said. “Gargle was just about to get you.” She was sipping from a large cup of tea set on the kitchen table. Meanwhile, Mr. Gimble set down a forkful of scrambled eggs to nod at her. “Good morning, Horatia, and congratulations. I hadn’t realized you had been so busy last night.” There was a calm smile on his face. “You should be very proud of this milestone.” “I’m confused,” Horatia replied. “What exactly did I do?” She looked at Petri. “Or am I still dreaming?” This bizarre scene certainly didn’t feel like one. Getting congratulated by Mr. Gimble after she had vented her insecurities on Wispy seemed a little too weird to be a dream. “Of course, you’re not dreaming,” Wispy huffed. “Really, the very idea.” Mr. Gimble chuckled. “What I was referring to, Horatia, was the fact that Wispy here has decided to become your fairy godmother. There are many old legends of Will-of-the Wisp Dragonflies guiding those in need, as a sort of conscience. And the ones they choose to help often lead remarkable lives filled with adventure and fortunate events.” “And I take my responsibilities very seriously, as I have mentioned before,” Wispy declared proudly, puffing out her chest. “Okay…” Horatia murmured, trying to keep up. “But, umm… then what is a ‘god-sister?’” “Why, Gargle is, of course.” Wispy shook her head as if exasperated at having to explain the concept. “Gargle is under my official guidance as well, which makes her your god-sister. Your older god-sister.” Horatia considered that statement. She lived alone up in The Grand Clocktower for a long time, and she suspected Gargle might, in fact, have been chronologically younger than her. However, the way Wispy said it suggested introducing such logic to the equation would lead to a futile argument on her end. So, instead, she asked, “Does it really work that way? That’s so… so…” “Some things are that simple,” Mr. Gimbled soothed. “You should be happy. Oh, and I guess you should be going.” “Where?” Horatia asked as Gargle set her down. “We have an address to visit down on Cross Way,” Wispy announced, “where there is a couple who should make a perfect fit for the nursery toys. Going at this earlier hour will mean less crowding on the streets, and we can slip along without much fuss.” Horatia blinked. Ah, so it was something to do with the toys. She glanced at Mr. Gimble. “I would be happy to help with any clocks you need repaired.” “Why are you asking about clocks, Horatia?” Wispy huffed, tweaking her on the ear. “I told you we have other work to do.” She turned to Gargle and nodded, at which the gargoyle wrote on her tablet, “I’ll get the cart,” aimed another happy gurgle at Horatia, and ran off. “But… but…” Horatia murmured. Mr. Gimble walked over and patted her on the head. “You’ll get to see one of the clocks that have broken down elsewhere in Tinker Town tomorrow, and the ones in the workshop,” his eyes twinkled, “are all in very good repair, I’m happy to say.” He winked at her. “Good for you, my little friend. Welcome to the Unique Toys crew.” “But you’ve already welcomed me to Unique Toys,” Horatia replied, knowing for sure that she was missing something. The frustrating thing was she suspected it was something as apparently important as the whole fairy godmother and god-sister business. “I’ve been here for days already!” All Mr. Gimble would say was, “I’ll be minding the shop today. I’m well-rested, so don’t worry about me.” “Hey, Horatia, don’t dawdle,” Wispy chided, flitting towards the front door. “We have a lot of work to get done. Unless you’re feeling poorly.” She paused for a moment to glance back at her. “No, I’m just… confused.” “Oh, good,” Wispy said. “You’re perfectly normal.” She waved a foreclaw. “Come along, then.”***A short while later, they were traveling through the morning streets of Tinker Town. Gargle strolled onwards rather than ran, since Wispy said people might still be in bed. Meanwhile, Horatia lay draped over the rim of the basket as she tried in vain to sort out the last several days in her head. Maybe then everything would make sense again. However she tried to align all the events, however, the whole thing failed to make sense. Everything had been simpler when she remained focused on maintaining The Grand Clocktower. Even if it had been much lonelier… Could she go back to that? They passed storefronts where the owners unlocked their doors, set out folding signs, and waved to them. Windows opened on second floors, and a few people ventured off towards various destinations. Tinker Town was waking up. Slowly stirring like some giant creature shaking off sleep. Her tail frisked to one side, curious at the metaphor. After all, how could a town be like a creature? It was a town. “All right, you two,” Wispy said, zipping about, “our destination will be at Cross Way. Do you have the names of the couple, Gargle?” Gargle dug into a pocket of her lavender robe and pulled out a piece of paper, which read, “Christopher and Fanny Warder.” “Exactly what are you going to do?” Horatia asked. "Why, we have a delivery to make, of course," Wispy said. Gargle paused to write on her tablet, “Mr. Gimble says he has watched Christopher grow up, and that he used to live in the house near where we found the nursery toys. He says that he is as good person, and so is his wife, Fanny.” Horatia thought about it, connecting the dots. If Christopher had been born in and had happened to occupy the same house the nursery toys got tossed out of…” She blinked. “We’re returning them to him?” “Basically,” Wispy said. “Gargle even got Christopher’s name from the nursery toys the other night while she was entertaining them. He must be the same person.” “Did someone say Christopher?” The sack in the back of the cart shifted, and three stuffed creatures stuck out their heads. It was the plush tiger who had spoken. Horatia would have recognized his voice even though he sounded more curious than upset. Then the stuffed tiger happened to see her. “Wait a minute. It’s the server from the other day. The one who shouted at me.” He perked up a bit more, and the other toys stared at her. “The angry one.” Horatia sighed. She had used up any flare of anger she’d had the other evening, and she was about ready just to ignore the tiger’s rudeness and sink down into the basket when Wispy came zipping right past her. “Hey, that’s my goddaughter you’re talking to,” Wispy huffed at the tiger. “Show some respect. She and Gargle are helping you out.” Horatia, who had been on the fringes of the whole thing, murmured, “Well, to be honest, I haven't really—” “They are helping you out,” Wispy repeated heatedly. “And another thing—” At this point, Horatia felt a gentle tap on her arm. Gargle gestured for her to climb down onto the street. “Can you walk?” the gargoyle wrote on her tablet. “For a while, I guess,” Horatia said, remembering the distance she had gone the other evening. Gargle gurgled in approval, wrapped her tail around one of the two handles of the cart, and began to tug it along. She wrote, “Wispy will be giving them ‘a talking to’ for the next several minutes.” When the cart veered off to one side, Horatia grabbed ahold of the other handle, and between them, they kept it straight. “Oh, you mean she is going to criticize them for a bit?” she asked. “Not criticize. Correct them,” Gargle wrote. “She will give them advice.” They moved along the street in meditative silence for about half a block before Horatia sighed. “Look, I can tell there is something big to it, I really can, but I don’t understand. Why is Wispy declaring herself my fairy godmother so exciting?” “Because it makes us god-sisters.” The message was written nice and large on the clay tablet. “We’re family.” “Family?” The word tingled inside her. She almost tripped over her own feet. “How can we be family? We are unrelated. You are a gargoyle, I am a clockwork cat, and Wispy is a Will-of-the-Wisp Dragonfly.” “Wispy called it ‘adopting.’ She adopted me, and now she has adopted you.” “Just like that?” Gargled nodded. “Like you and Petri are family.” “Petri and I are not…” Horatia trailed off, since she realized with a start that having made Petri, and being each other’s only companions for quite a while, they had been all the other one had. “Okay, I guess you’re right,” she conceded. “Petri is like family to me.” She scratched her mechanical assistant under his chin, and he cooed. “Petri is a part of our family too,” Gargle wrote. “Mr. Gimble is a member of the same family.” “Well, while we’re at Unique Toys, maybe,” Horatia said. “But what about when Petri and I leave for… for The Grand Clocktower?” There, she had said it. Gargle gazed at her for a long moment, and Horatia wondered exactly what expression was on the face hidden in those shadows. But then the gargoyle wrote, “You would still be family, no matter where you go. Our family.” This insistence made springs convulse within Horatia. She flinched at the warmth in her chest, worried it signaled something problematic—and, indeed, there came what she could best describe as a vibration. Horatia jerked as, for about five seconds, she became aware of clocks ticking within the surrounding buildings. They were like heartbeats—except that there was one a few streets over that was out of sync. She was distinctively aware of it. Horatia reached out as if towards that one clock, and below her there were additional ripples. A hand touched her shoulder, and everything snapped back to normal. The clocks went quiet, and she was there on the street, with Gargle gurgling in concern and Wispy waving a foreclaw in front of her face. She looked around. “What happened?” “You zoned out, that’s what happened,” Wispy said. “Your eyes were glowing, and it was as if you were listening to something.” She flitted about, checking her all over. “You were using magic.” Horatia rubbed her head. “And Petri began glowing as well. Or, at least his stomach did,” Wispy continued, nodding to Petri. His stomach? Horatia’s eyes widened as she realized, “The Enchanted Powder that Petri ate! It must have reacted to what I was doing, somehow.” Petri clucked, now perched along the rim of the basket. He wasn’t glowing, but Horatia could believe he had been during her strange episode. “Back in the basket with you,” Wispy advised. “You’ve done enough walking about and glowing.” Gargle wrote on her tablet, “We can talk tonight.” She gurgled, and Horatia reluctantly climbed back up into the basket. Soon enough, they reached Cross Way. It was a nice little place reminiscent of Primary Street, although they were single-story homes instead. People were still trickling about, here and there, and Horatia listened as they greeting each other. The liveliness was manageable. And from one of the houses, she could hear the cries of a baby. She perked up, somehow knowing they would stop right in front of its small, picket fence. The nursery toys heard the cries as well. They shifted about. “Oh, I don’t know about this,” the plush elephant said. “It’s too sudden,” the giraffe agreed. “Maybe we should go back. We are not ready.” Gargle came around the side and held up her tablet. The toys stared at the words in confusion, and Horatia realized with a start that they couldn’t read. They had understood the pictures Gargle had drawn, but writing was a mysterious system to them. So, Horatia translated, “Christopher is in there, in that house, and he needs you.” “Hah!” the tiger said, forcing some haughtiness into his voice. “After all this time, do you think he could remember and love us?” Gargle didn’t write it, but Horatia found herself muttering, “You won’t know unless you try.” She couldn’t have begun to say where that thought had come from, or why it felt so right the moment she said it. Regardless, the tiger at last nodded his head. “Right, we’ll give it a try. Take us to him. Take us to Christopher.” Gargle reached into the bag and picked up the toy giraffe and the plush elephant, but the stuffed tiger reached into another direction—towards Horatia. “I want Horatia to carry me,” he said. Apparently, Wispy had told them her name. “Well, I—” Horatia hesitated. “You heard the tiger. Don’t just gawp at him,” Wispy chided. “He wants you to carry him, and you need to help Gargle with the delivery. Go on.” With this extra prodding, Horatia picked up the stuffed tiger, who sighed in contentment as they approached the house. Gargle used her tail to tug the rope for the doorbell, a sound that only made the baby inside cry louder. Horatia could hear the mother, Fanny, trying to gently quiet the child. The door opened. A man stood there, looking tired but good-natured, and he adjusted the spectacles half slipping off his nose to regard them. “Well, good morning there, what can I do for—?” He paused, glimpsing the toys in their arms. “In all my days, those toys look awfully familiar.” In Horatia’s arms, the stuffed tiger gasped. “Christopher. It’s Christopher!” His burst of eagerness was sudden and impressive. The other two toys squealed and cheered. And even though Christopher didn’t appear to be able to hear them, it was clear memories were playing in his own head. Things that Horatia wasn’t privy to, but which were just as boisterous. Maybe everyone had echoes in their heads, sometimes. Like her. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say those were my very own toys from long ago. I thought they were lost forever,” Christopher said. “We’re not lost, Christopher,” the toys were crying. “We’re right here.” Horatia and Gargle held up the toys. “Hmm. For you, your wife, and your ‘bundle of joy?’” Horatia said. It was around this time that Fanny made her appearance, gently bouncing the inconsolable baby in her arms. Christopher carefully took the stuffed toys from Horatia and Gargle. “Thank you,” he said, shaking them here and there in the air near the baby, who paused amid a fresh burst of tears at these peculiar figures that jingled and looked soft and huggable. Little hands reached up for the elephant, the giraffe, and the tiger, in turn. Horatia stood there, blinking. They were all so happy together. Christopher really had welcomed them back, like old friends. Or like long lost family members. As she followed Gargle back to the cart, Horatia wondered at those ties, and for a moment she was almost frightened. If they were connected that strongly to each other, they might never get away from each other. One or more of the other members would, theoretically, always be there looking out and caring for them. They would never be alone. Then she stopped being frightened. Ah, Horatia thought, maybe that was the point. “Looks like that brought a smile to your face,” Wispy said as Gargle helped Horatia to climb into the basket again. The dragonfly patted Horatia on the head. “You never quite forget your first time personally delivering a toy to a family. Really, Horatia, you should smile more often. It suits you.” Then she landed atop Gargle’s floppy hat. “All right, then, let’s go back home to Unique Toys.” Gargle gurgled and obliged. As they left, Horatia gazed back at house with the young couple and the baby. Those toys had waited a long time to be reunited with their family. It had been so simple. What a lovely thought....