Absolutely nothing happens except for the slow, ponderous slide of patterns against patterns.

The patterns here aren't ideal for flying, but they're good enough. When her senses come back, she flies (a bit slowly) through the trees, looking for some sign of civilization.

There are signs of wilderness. There's a forest, there, with a river running through it. Puffy white clouds. Nippy autumn air, afternoon sunshine.

"Being very confused by this place. I was flying to Opri, took a right and ended up here. Nice wings, by the by, whoever made them for you is very good."

"I'll say you're confused. Is that food you brought with you?"

"...Yes? What about it?" If she's going to have a conversation, she might as well land and spare the weird antifeeling using too much magic causes.

The leaf-winged girl lands too. "Good. Don't eat anything from here. You might want to save that for later, if you don't have a way home. And don't tell anyone your name."

"And why are you telling me these completely arbitrary-sounding rules?"

"Because this is Fairyland and if someone knows your name, or claims the food you eat, you will have to do whatever they say."

"Who, precisely, enforces such a sadistic law?"

"No one. It's just a property of fairies. It happens between fairies, too, but you're a mortal and especially vulnerable."

"I'll admit that your story sounds a lot more likely than someone going through the effort of making all these pointless patterns in the bluestream, but do you have any, you know, proof?"

"Not unless you want to tell me your name," says Promise, "which I honestly do not recommend. These wings are attached, though. No one made them for me. And I don't know what you're talking about with respect to the bluestream."

"The bluestream- the patterns in the magic. They're weird and don't do much of anything useful, I could barely fly, and I can't see any reason why someone would have made them that way when it costs so much to move them around."

"The patterns in the...? I don't think we have your kind of magic here."

"If you say so. Any recommendations on how to get home? And if I grow food will it be safe under your weird capricious rules?"

"Safer, anyway. Maybe not completely safe if someone has a claim on the land. You might want to water the plants with purified water, too. And if you don't know how you got here - well, I can make you a gate to the mortal world, but I'll have to learn how."

"I could try going back to where I arrived, but if that doesn't work I suppose your gate is the next best bet on offer, so thank you for offering to help."

"You're welcome."

She starts flying again. "Before I go, where can I find you if that patch of orange grass doesn't give me any hints?"

"Have you been traveling away from it for long? I could just come with you and show you to my tree if you can't get home from there."

"If you like." She flies back to the clearing, following a strangely irregular and wobbly path.

The fairy follows her. "You look like you've got a tank of cider in you, wobbling like that. Are you new to flying?"