bad weeds grow tall — joining

[aine.]

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I'll come back when you call me

Chasing beetles, the petite vixen skidded across hot sand.  Conscious of the jungle behind her.  The shade.  She only played in the desert on occasion, with her attention grabbed.  Her scarlet orange fur flashed brightly in the sun, soaking in the heat.  As her mouth grew dry, she found her fondness for chasing the little insect fading.  There might be butterflies in the jungle.  By her garden at least.

But an unfamiliar figure caught her eye.  Hazel hues, gleaming golden in the light, flickering in curiously.  No one should sit in the sand for long.  They’d get too hot.  Especially with a thick coat.  Chewing the inside of her cheek, the little fox bounded towards him, rocking on her paws as she came to a halt.  Offering a smile, albeit a shy one, Aine wondered if he was looking for someone specific.  His eyes seemed so intent.

"Salut," she murmured, "are you okay? It’s... it’s very hot out here to just be sitting in the sand.  Can I help you?  ....’m Aine."

She should carry herbs on her.  She knows.  She’s the unofficial medic.  But she’s young and there’s beetles to chase.  The boy didn’t look hurt.  Or terribly unwell.  Still.  The fae wonders if she should offer water... Well.  Maybe in a moment... After he answers her first question...

— aine | the pitt | commodore of the crows | fae druid —