I meant to post this on Monday (And actually wrote about half of it then), but then due college papers pushed it back until today 😐 Hopefully it’ll be back to Monday next week! I’m all caught up with schoolwork now 😉
Wrenn sat outside her cottage, breathing in the fresh morning air and enjoying the sun on her skin. Steam rose from her tea in delicate curls, mirroring the wispy clouds that lazily drifted across the sky. Springtime was in full bloom around her, bringing its bountiful color as a vivid blanket over the remains of the stark winter. The dirt path leading away from her cottage was warm against her feet, and she couldn’t help but to smile at the morning.
Birds chirped at one another, and all the other little creatures added their voices to the cheerful chatter humming through the air. Every once in a while, a gentle stillness would overtake it for a moment before some brave bird would burst back into song and start it again.
After Wrenn had finished her tea and set the cup aside, she began to wander thoughtfully through her garden, relishing in the feeling of the new grass. A tiny, pathetic whimpering sound caught her attention and she frowned, pausing to try to discern where it was coming from. It came again, faint and needy, followed by a groan, and she took a few tentative steps towards it.
Coming around a tall bush, she saw a young bobcat, lying on her side, mostly unmoving. Judging by the relatively larger size of her, she was not a bobcat by nature, and Wrenn could feel the magical aura of a shifter humming in the air, apart from her own. The bobcat turned her golden eyes to Wrenn, blinking tiredly and making no effort to move.
Wrenn crouched down beside her, stretching out a cautious hand to her, “I mean no harm, shifter. I am one of your own.” She said gently, and the bobcat took a raspy breath, watching her, but still not moving. “Were you injured?” Wrenn inquired, probing through the tawny fur for any physical damage.
The bobcat nodded weakly.
“And you can no longer speak in this form?”
“And shifting back is out of the question, I assume, then?”
This nod was slower, almost hesitant.
“I’m going to help you to the cabin. I may be able to help you there, all right?” Wrenn told her, and the bobcat closed her eyes. Scooping the shifter up in both arms, Wrenn found her to be limp and rather lightweight for her size. She carried her back to the cabin carefully, nudging open the door with her foot and lying the bobcat down on her cot inside.
“Do you know who did this to you?” Wrenn asked, looking through her shelves of reagents. A low, hissing attempt at words came out of the bobcat, and Wrenn looked at her. She struggled to move, as though her limbs were heavy like lead, but eventually crawled to the edge, nudging at a potted Fae moss on the windowsill.
“Plant poisons?” Wrenn frowned, but her guess was met with a shake of the head. She crossed her arms, trying to think of what else the bobcat might mean. “Faeries?”
The bobcat nodded, slumping down on the bed.
“Fae magic is difficult to undo, but I’ll see if I can.” Wrenn assured her, returning to her shelves.
Talk to you soon,