Herbalists' Cache touch

Curiously, the gray ghost sniffed at the berries but demurred, bounding away with an excited, purposeful air. Coelacanth tilted her finely-sculpted head first to one side, then the other, but she did not have long to linger in her bemusement — in a flurry of motion, the bright-eyed wraith circled around and returned with a rime-encrusted stick clutched triumphantly between his teeth. It was a magnificent find — it was a magnificent stick — and the atramentous yearling’s ink-etched tail began to wave in earnest.

Lavish in her praise, Seelie danced forward on her tiptoes to trace the gnarled branch’s knotted length with the wet of her nose. She lifted her oceanic gaze to meet the silent jester’s gold-ringed one with new enthusiasm as her feathered tail began whipping wildly against her spindly hocks. “Well done!” bespoke the soft whuff that danced from her lips and nostrils in a smoky plume. Placing a paw brazenly on the boy’s prize, she began a strange, shimmying pattern: she dove forward in a playful bow, snapped at the air over the toy, and darted backward. She repeated this gesture several times before nudging the stick toward the silver phantom with her nose. All the while, playful growls no louder than a kitten’s contented purr rippled from her lips. His continued friendliness and exuberance had won her over at last.