You feel something small and prickly as you feel the pain around your eye. You manage to unstick it from under your eye. It's just a prickle. Relief floods into you.
"What's that, O Undead One?" the girl asks.
"A prickle. And why are you calling me that?"
"My grandmama always tells me to respect the dead spirits of the past, else they might take their revenge on you."
"Even if I were a ghost -- which I'm most certainly not -- I would be dead, not undead."
"Then how would I see you, though? Us pixies can only see the alive," the girl with the curly locks says.
You are about to say a sarcastic retort back when you realize what the girl just said. Pixies? Wait ... pixies?