‘Which can prove to be quite deadly a habit.’ The man who appeared behind the railing wore the traditional tattoo of the Māori on his dark face, along with a wide smile. It is also the only place on Earth where many of the native birds walk on foot.’ Its two islands are the most recent large land masses to rise from the sea, and humans probably settled here no earlier than 900 AD. ‘You are right, by the way, my love,’ said Barnabas Greenbloom, stepping on to the narrow gangway, ‘the world is younger in New Zealand. That was the name of the sacred Guardians of the Māori. But before she could ask her father about its inhabitants, Barnabas stopped in front of a boat, its name written on the white hull with blue paint. Guinevere heard voices in the small wooden suitcase he was carrying. ‘I guess the fabulous friends we brought may have drawn the others.’ ‘How can people be so blind?’ He cast a glance at the fishermen. ‘And once again, we seem to be the only ones who detect them!’ her father whispered back. I’ve never seen such an abundance of fabulous creatures!’ ‘Dew elves, fishmen, gullings, wind riders.
It almost feels as if the world is younger here!’ Guinevere whispered into her father’s ear.
Of course they had made sure that they couldn’t be spotted easily – all fabulous beings are masters of camouflage and Guinevere was quite sure nobody else noticed the tiny elves – neither the men loading their boats along the pier, nor the three fishermen who were sitting side by side on the wooden boards dangling their lines into the water.
But this particular morning was quite crisp, and Guinevere Greenbloom spotted eleven dew elves as she followed her father to the boat that would carry them out into the bay. In New Zealand January is a summer month. Cover illustration: Laura Ellen Anderson 2021, Inside illustrations: Cornelia Funke 2021
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