The late spring air in the Great City of Anunitum, the first of Talitha Harbor’s cities, carried the scent of fresh flowers through an open kitchen window. An older Talithan, their gray hair dyed blue, ambled through the door to their home after an early morning stroll and inhaled deeply. The fragrance was their favorite, made by their neighbor’s rooftop garden. Their stiff knees and bowed back had turned their roof into a wild jungle of native plants.

As they passed by the kitchen, they spotted something on the dining table. Surprised, their gaze followed a row of five gems, each one a different color. Under the sunlit stones laid a slip of paper. They pulled it out, happy to see large writing they could read. 

“You deserve something pretty.” 

***

Spring heated into summer and a young couple found solace with a hike through the cool shade of ancient Anunitum forests. A pair of amber eyes peered at them through the dense leaves of foliage created by large fronds and bushes. They watched as the couple, walking hand in hand, oblivious to their presence, flirted and giggled. An amused smile crossed the watcher’s face as the pair almost stumbled over a basket. The shorter of the two, xyr dark hair in a high bun, leaned over and picked it up. Inside were two woven bracelets with matching red and orange layered stones.

Xe pulled out a note and read it to xyr partner with a sweet smile, “carry each other.” 

***

The autumnal breeze blew away the summer and tousled the hair of a confused father on his stoop. His toddler held a small carved wooden rabbit in their chubby hands, dancing on their little feet. There were no gifting holidays during this time, nor was it the child’s birthday.

“Bunny!” they said cheerfully.

He reached for the tag around the sculpture’s neck and removed it. The three words written on it said, “keep it safe.”

***

Winter winds were blowing in, and the days when Talithans could safely travel were growing short. An amber eyed figure in a nondescript cloak walked with purpose to an artisan’s stall. They held a large wooden box of gathered rocks, arthropod shells, seed pods, and other supplies used in the art of trinket crafting.

“I need a gift for a special friend. Anything you don’t use is yours.”

The skeptical artist opened the lid, and their eyes widened with surprise. There was at least one sol cycle worth of permitted resources here. They reached in and pulled out a handful of random things. A rainbow of shapes filled their palm, a few they didn’t even recognize. “This is worth more than a gift. I could make hundreds of credits from this.”

“I only need one,” they were told, “a star map that matches the one laid out with skipping stones in Constellation Park. Make it however you want. I will be gone until the start of winter, two sols from now. I won’t need it until then.” 

Before the artist could comment on how far away that was or that the payment was far too high, the person turned and hurried away, leaving them to wonder if they’d see them again. There wasn’t a way to determine whether they collected the items with respect to the ecology. They kept them, regardless, and in the time they had, they decided to make one of their best pieces for the mysterious stranger. 

***

The first flush of morning brough fog, which shrouded Anunitum. It was dense and concealed a square digital device that someone had laid in front of Identity Services. A member of the Ouroboros Vocation almost stepped on it. He picked up the identity pad and turned it over in his hand. The model was an old one. No one had used it in a long time.

“He’s dead now,” a large paper tag said.

***

Shivering in brisk winter air, a grieving Talithan pulled the green fiber woven jacket he was wearing a little tighter. There was a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye and he turned towards it. Then he sobbed, tears coming in a burst, as he noticed the blue-green fish leather journal that had appeared. It sat on the thick wooden fence around the tree that his partner’s remains rested near. He carefully took it and flipped open the cover. The pages were old, but undamaged. He recognized the delicate writing, created by a hand that would never caress him again.

A sheet of paper fell out, and he plucked it out of the grass. The only word written on it was, “sorry.”

***

An old man in the icy northern Great City of Simmah woke after he heard a knock. He yawned as he picked up his identity pad, a tablet that communicated with all of Talitha Harbor. It showed no one at the door. Grumbling, he slipped out of bed and slowly made his way through the house. Once he reached it, the exit slid open, chilling the foyer with brisk winter air. On his stoop, sitting on top of the snow, laid a chess game.

He lifted the lid and noticed a piece was missing. A long and thin roll of paper with a message sat in the empty slot.

“I kept the knight.” 

***

It was the longest night of Talitha Harbor’s sol cycle, a full twenty-two hour day with no sun. Talithans were gathering for the Carnival in the Stars. A day of games, music, and dancing in the light of hundreds of bonfires.

At a schoolhouse barracks, several children who had no parents were being gathered by the caretaker on duty. It was an exciting time for them. Lessons were put on hold, only treats and running through the city with other young Talithans.

The caretaker on duty opened the door, so they could join in the celebration, and cried out in joyous surprise. In front of the barracks, he found a row of seven carnival mats, rolled up and tied with different colors of twine. On one was a note. He plucked it off the mat and turned to read it to the waiting children.

“You are still loved.”

***

Boots crunched in the frosted grass of an early spring morning. The woman followed the same route every day, enjoying a narrow trail that ran along the base of a Simmah mountain. A small box sat in her path. She plucked it up and unwrapped a paper that someone had tied around it.

“You dropped this seven sols ago.”

She opened it and found a ring she’d almost forgotten.

***

It was a special time at Better Days, a Simmah pub with a giant sun painted above its door. They were opening their first cask of summer ale. People crowded the cozy establishment, filling the air with the cheerful hum of voices, glad the coldest of the season was behind them.

“Look,” one said, scrolling through the news forum on their identity pad. “There is a name for the mysterious person who’s been leaving gifts around Talitha Harbor. A journalist dubbed them the Trinket Fairy.”

***

A throng of people moved in and out of a large square, squat building that contained a food market in the still warm early fall air of the southern Great City of Pangu. It was the most colorful of Talitha’s cities; the buildings painted in a rainbow of color.

The sweltering heat of summer had drifted away, giving the citizens a pleasant day. A shopkeeper stayed busy, keeping the store neat so the sensors could record everyone’s purchases.

Later, as they prepared the store to be closed for the night, they discovered a hollowed-out gourd in the rear of the shop. An artist had painted a detailed beach scene, wrapped around the entirety of its hard shell, an impressive work of art.

Inside a rolled up paper read, “someone loved this.”

***

It was harvest time for the lumpy green Pangu Citrus that was popular in the three Talithan cities. The cool winter air would brown them if left in trees for too long. An arborist walked among even rows of trees, pinching hanging fruits and judging their ripeness. At one tree, they saw a brown sack hanging tied to a high limb. They fetched a stool and untied the rope that held it. When they opened the bag, they found a thin handmade book. It looked to be made for children, full of pictures about dinosaurs, ancient creatures from the planet Earth. Someone had tucked a brief note with the book.

“This one was my favorite, but I must pass it along. It’s the right thing to do.”

***

A small child wandered along a beach, their coat buttoned up. Winter rain had fallen the day before and they had asked their parents to build sandcastles. During their latest creation, they had disturbed a crab. They were now following its trail, their mothers too distracted in argument with each other to notice. From behind a rock, a figure watched. As the little one grew closer, they held out a plump fabric doll. 

“Show your parents. Tell them it’s from the Trinket Fairy.”

***

A tired caretaker trudged, exhausted, towards the garden that xe shared in the communal space between several Pangu homes. The day had been long, and xe wanted to relax. Xe sat on the cobble ledge that surrounded the plants and enjoyed yellows, oranges, and purples from several that had flowered in the early spring. A scrap of tan paper poked through the leaves and xe pushed them aside, revealing a nondescript tan bag. Inside was a flower, delicately woven out of recycled wire.

The tag on the bag read, “for whoever finds this first, from the Trinket Fairy.”

***

A young man in a wide brim sun hat sat in an alleyway, clenching his fists, eyes squeezed shut, and trying to slow his breathing. His heart pounded, consumed by a panic attack without a recognizable trigger. He thought he was out of sight, but sensed someone walk up to him, pause, then walk away. When he was steady enough to open his eyes, he found an ornate wooden box at his feet. A hastily written note laid on top, “for your anxiety, from the Trinket Fairy.”

When he opened it up, the box was full of marjallo packets. A relaxing recreational drug Talithans used as a drinkable powder that sometimes helped with anxiety. It was something he had access to, but it still made him smile. Two small eyes peered out between two bags and he reached in, pulling out a small stuffed rabbit. The toy was filled with small beads. He squished his fingers into the creature’s body, feeling the tiny balls move around under his fingers, finding comfort in the toy’s texture. 

***

Young Talithans swarmed into a classroom. They had just returned from a stroll, and it was time for an afternoon snack. A wooden chest stood in the middle of the room. They opened the lid, revealing a wide variety of dolls, wooden solcars, toy bugs, balls, and a wide, gliding kunzite fly, which was swiftly dispersed around the room. After catching the sailing glider, a confused caretaker told them not to lose any of the toys and saw a note laying crumpled in the chest's bottom. 

“I hope they bring everyone joy, your friend the Trinket Fairy.”

***

The days had grown slightly shorter, though winter was still months away. The famed Dumas Traveling Troupe had returned to Pangu, and soon they’d have their first fall production back at home. They arrived at an outdoor theater in small groups, taking advantage of early morning hours. As they did, the noise of a growing crowd pulled them to the rear of the building.

Somehow in the night, several pieces of furniture had appeared, shielded under an alcove. There were kitchen chairs, stools, a modest chest, and other easier to carry items. Someone had covered them in a myriad of shells, dried plants, stones, twigs, and other bits and pieces one can find while traversing Talitha Harbor. It was chaotic, with no rhyme or reason to it, as if a child had decorated them. One chair had a note tied to it. The handwriting looked familiar, though it was unsigned.

“I can’t use these anymore. Please don’t let them be forgotten.”

***

A messenger delivered an unexpected letter to an Anunitum artisan. For almost two sols, an elaborate piece of wall art had decorated their booth. It was in the shape of a constellation and there had been many offers for it. They had declined them all. Opening the envelope revealed a note with two flat amber rocks tucked inside, both polished to a shine.

“I am sorry that I won’t be able to make it as planned. Could you please deliver the art I commissioned to the address I’ve included in the package? Take the stones as further payment. I also need the second envelope included, attached. I don’t have an identity pad, so I had to send the paper note. The person there can vouch for me.”

***

A crowd of Talithans were gathered around something in the center of the large circular main floor of Pangu’s Fortress and community center. One of the Council of Thirteen pushed their way through. The soft sounds of digital clicks surrounded them as people took photos of something with their identity pads. Pictures uploaded to the Talithan Harbor news forums for everyone to see. They showed a short heap of raw ore. A large paper sign stood out of the pile, tied around a long and thin tree branch. “Returning home with love, thank you for accepting my gifts. The Trinket Fairy”

***

A tall investigator received a notice on her identity pad. There was a package waiting at the front door. She accepted it, a large object wrapped in brown paper. She carefully placed it on her coffee table, then slipped a note out from between two folded ends of the package.

“Meet me at the Anunitum ferry dock on 31 Dýo. I’ll be arriving around 1300. Ever Yours.” 

A grin broke out across her face and she dropped the note on the table and tore open the package, revealing a skillfully crafted constellation. She ran a finger over the stones and shells that were wired together to create the design. Her finger stopped on one of the small stones. It was a beautiful one, a pale blue like the morning sky. But it wasn’t the color that had paused her trek. Memories from long ago surfaced in her mind, when she was just a child, her world still full of innocence. A memory of a new friend with amber eyes that matched hers.

***

In a small park, a group of young children ran through the grass while parents watched and conversed about their lives. In one corner, a nervous and quiet child sat and watched, too scared to join. A younger Talithan, who had only seen their fourth sol, saw them. After a moment’s thought, they walked up to their own mother and asked for their favorite toy and a clean handkerchief. She handed them a small stuffed pink jellyfish and a piece of undyed linen. Eager hands rolled the jellyfish in the cloth and asked their mother to push in the edges for them.

Once their package was ready, they skipped to the shy child and thrust out their hands, “for you! From the Trinket Fairy.”