Hushed Willows Could've been the wine

before caw can begin to explain to this stranger the extent to which he is wrong – and the fact that he absolutely should not be denying the existence of faeries directly in front of faeries – he rockets straight up into the air as though plucked off the ground by an invisible hand.

caw jolts backwards, neck rolling back against his shoulders, but his expression can only be described as astonished. head snapping up to follow the lunge, he stares at the cougar with wide, fascinated eyes and curves his toes in and out of the soil, too absorbed to pay much mind to orlaith’s arrival, even if it is accompanied by all the subtlety of a hammer to the face. is this a thing only cats can do? surely he would have been taught if he could jump so high into branches before.

the cat opens its mouth, revealing a set of very large teeth. looking between all three of the faerie spectators, caw hesitates. what is it that this cat wants to do with their queen? he is sure it is not good to place her in danger, but he is unsure he can leap high enough to snag the cat where it sits on the branch above them. and he is probably not capable of doing much to it even if he could! not when it has teeth like that.

“should call queen?” caw asks, peeling his eyes away from the cougar to look at orlaith. she has made it very clear that she is in charge! probably not as in charge as the queen. but caw is not good at making these kinds of decisions even if he was at all inclined to, and she is, after all, a faerie.