friends [★] scarecrow

[aine.]

[align=center]— aine | the pitt | fae druid —

It took great effort to focus.  Since the capture of her pirate friend, the petite vixen struggled keeping her mind on one track.  Thoughts jumbled inconsistently, rattling uselessly in her already often overactive brain.  She still felt the traces of pain, pushed back by careful medical care of the source; the physical injuries to another.  Strangely linked.

But the child took her duty to her garden seriously.  Her father had told her once that maintaining the herbal stocks was an important and time-consuming job, requiring the upmost diligence.  She intended on exhibiting that hardworking attitude.  Besides, she truly loved her garden.  The fruit of her imagination and growing powers.

As autumn drew on, word of a holiday drifted into her ears every so often.  Vaguely familiar but she could recall no images of Halloween.  Aine loved holidays, of course, since they often resulted in her receiving a special gift or treat from her parents.  A fun activity.  A present.

As she did her best, shyly inquiring about the upcoming event, she grew more and more accustomed to the aesthetic.  Extremely fall, in everyway.  Eager to display some enthusiasm for this new holiday, she went to her garden.  There was some open space left in the clearing that she had built the place in... A perfect resting ground for a scarecrow.

Honestly, Aine felt wary of scaring crows.  They seemed intelligent birds and often depicted as mean or vengeful.  She didn't want to offend anyone, much less a crow.  Yet she learned that scarecrows were rather important parts of farming.  For some reason.

Carefully, she studied images in picture books.  A simple body, made of straw or hay and wood.  Meant to watch over crops when the farmer is away.  Or gardener, in her case.  Cute.  But what if looks like a bird...? Maybe the crows would be less scared if the scarecrow was... A crow.

Following a productive trip into the market, timidly trading crafting supplies for herbs and flowers, the petite vixen began assembling her masterpiece.  A somewhat small-scale scarecrow sitting on the very outskirts of her circular garden.  Thanks to stuffing and straw, she made sure the head seemed a bird, rather than human in nature.  With a cute straw hat, to reinforce how unintimidating he really was to the birds.

When he seemed stable and happy with his hat, Aine sat back and regarded her work, beaming vibrantly. I should name him...

— I'll come back when you call me —

[redvox.]