The Sunspire don't call home

He had to be slow and careful as he went. While he could still discern some depth with one eye, there was a distinct disadvantage to losing the other, and Screech had learned to notice the signs quickly. A step too far to one side, and he would feel the sway of his bodyweight getting too close to the edge; a stumble and he'd overcorrect or kick himself lightly, and nobody needed to see that. His issue would take more than a few weeks to adapt to — he'd managed fine on flat land, even adapted to the forest of Ravensblood, but the mountain was another story. It was dangerous, and no matter what he did there was always the feeling that he was in peril.

Perhaps that wasn't the mountain, though. Maybe the mountain was only part of it. He felt eyes upon him; a shiver took up temporary residence on his lumbar spine, as if someone were walking over his grave. When he turned his head, out of the darkness of his bad side was a shifting figure and he caught sight of the pale woman after. The boy stopped, and his ears shot forwards at the sound of her chuff, but he was silent and retained a sullen expression. The stranger didn't seem to be perterbed by Screech's face (perhaps the opposite, she was gaining on him with fluid steps as he just stood there). 

She looked -- not familiar, because he would've recognized someone with such kind eyes if he ever met them, like he could tell Seelie would never harm him versus any other darkie he'd encounter in his life. No, she looked familiar for other reasons - and then the scent of Cassiopeia hit him. She carried it upon her own coat, which made his expression fade almost instantly. Screech regarded the woman with a look of bright curiosity as he murmured, You know Cassiopeia. It wasn't a question, but the inflection of his tone hinted at another - who are you?