butterfly chasing [★] WATCHA LOOKING FOR?

[aine.]

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— aine | the pitt | fae druid —

Something crackled beneath petite inky paws.  The snap of a twig.  Crunch of a fallen leaf.  Dark ears snapped up in attention, wary.  Breath slow as a feather's descent.  Quiet.  She would be silent incarnate.  Well.  Mostly.  A white-tipped tail twitched, rustling overgrowth.  For heaven's sake.  Shut up.

Hazel eyes, gleaming the shade of gold, narrowed.  Flutter of brightly colored wings.  Hazy from far away.  The small vixen crept forward.  Silent incarnate.  So long as the shift of her paws didn't count.  Or her breath.  Or her tail.

The quarry drifted calmly through the trees even as the child bolted forward.  Indifference.  Aine danced behind it, eyes luminescent as it avoided every swipe of her paws.  Perhaps it knew the girl sought only the game, not any sort of harm.  Indeed, as the fae grew tired and plopped herself to the ground, the butterfly found a place to rest on the fox's nose.

"Oh." That tickles.  "Dia dhut."

— I'll come back when you call me —