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She's a four-year-old girl, and people (especially her Dad) insist she's a boy.
Not that she isn't sometimes. She is. But not today! Today she's a girl. And Dad keeps saying that's not true, that God made her body perfect and she shouldn't second-guess God's plan for her. God made her a boy, so she's supposed to be a boy. And on the one hand that kinda makes sense. God doesn't make mistakes, right? So if she were really a girl sometimes, then she'd... what? Her body would change, she guesses. But on the other hand, she knows she's a girl. She's a girl with a peepee, that's obvious. She'd prefer not having a peepee when she's a girl, but it's not the worst thing ever. And if God doesn't make mistakes, God also didn't make her feel like a girl sometimes on accident, right? It must be part of His (because God is always a He, even though God made everyone, boys and girls, in His image, he's always a He, Dad says) plan.
She tells Dad that, today, and Dad gets angry, and yells at her, and she doesn't know why he's yelling. It makes sense to her! But he won't explain why she's wrong, he's just yelling, Dad's so mean, she hates him, and she's not crying, shut up, you're crying!
And now Mum's coming and she's talking to Dad, and that usually makes Dad stop yelling and go away but he won't stop now and Sadde's angry and afraid and hurt and she's running away. A part of her thinks that it doesn't make much sense to run away, the park is pretty open and she can't really hide anywhere, and she'll have to go back because she'll get hungry (not now, though, she just ate a sandwich).
So she runs until she finds some bushes where she can hide, and she hides there, and she doesn't cry, and she spends a long time not crying. Mum and Dad don't come after her, though, and after she's done not crying she doesn't wipe her eyes and her nose, and she comes out the other way of the bushes she was hiding in.
And she's pretty sure that's not the park.
"I'm Yellow," says the yellow-haired fairy. Isn't he creative.
Naturally. "I'm Mortal," she retorts, using the equally uncreative one she made up fifteen years ago.
"Come on, your real name. We can tell the difference."
"How do I know you even have the information? You could just be fishing for an easy name."
"Suit yourself," shrugs Yellow. "Figure I didn't see the blonde with the funny bag and the blue pants, move on with your life."
"Okay, but how do I know you didn't take her, or, or you're just leading me on and won't actually tell?" She injects some hurt into her voice, time to look lost and broken and easy to convince...
Yellow smiles. "Does she know your name?"
"Of course—" Pause. "Okay, good point. But you still could be stringing me on," she says, trying to sound like she very dearly hopes he will convince her otherwise, come on, she wants to believe...
"If you don't think I know where she is then you don't have any reason to be scared if I go tell that person where you are," trills Yellow.
"Okay. ...do I have your word you'll tell me where she is after I give you my name?"
"Of course."
"What does that mean?" he asks.
"It's a mortal thing. We shake hands, to indicate trust. You can't break an oath you shook on," she fibs.
"Huh," says Yellow, and he clasps hands with her.
"Stop."
He stops.
She gets wary looks. Nobody bothers her.
"Warn me if anyone follows me or if there's anything you honestly believe I should know which will be relevant in the next five minutes," she says, and reaches inside her backpack for recharges for her cunning little device.
He's silent.
She walks in silence until they reach the edge of the thicket and starts looking around the place, gathering details. "Answer all my questions honestly with any and all details you think I might want. Do you know who took my mother?"
"Yes, it was one of Thorn's vassals, you're not getting her back," says Yellow.
"That's for me to decide. Who's Thorn, and why do you think I'm not getting her back?"
"Thorn is the master of a large court and he won't let an interesting mortal go."