Hushed Willows anyone lived in a pretty how town

the previously unthinkable has happened. caw has lost interest in chasing raindrops.

also his mouth is so full of plants that he could not chase raindrops if he wanted to, but this time the sogginess of his fur is not an exciting thing. but it is also not practical to be grumpy and hide under a log all day! there are lots of plants still to collect and bury. or to store to bury because now the water is more likely to just wash them away. sometimes caw loses track of where he has put them because of all the rain and stumbles upon them again a couple of days later.

this too has ceased to be a fun surprise.

caw squishes his way through the soil and roses of the clearing, fresh herbs hanging from his jaws and trailing petals everywhere. he tries to be careful around the plants! but it is very hard now when they are all so wet. and roses always have thorns hooking onto his fur and the only upside of the rain is that there will not be as much cleaning to do after this because it will just wash all the dirt away. probably.

he is lost enough in the meandering path he is making, watching mud squish in and out of his toes, that he does not notice the other faerie until he is very close. but he does, and his ears perk, and he offers an admittedly sad wag in greeting. the black and grey tangle of his tail splats heavily against the equally soaked fur of his back leg.