An abrupt, near-deafening squawk yanked Ren out of their fantasies so swiftly it was a wonder they didn’t tip right over, crouched as they were on the balls of their feet. By some miracle, they managed to catch themself, palm pressing flat against the soft earth as they whirled on the source of the offending sound.
A raven, it turned out, big and black, her feathers gleaming like an oil slick in the late-morning sunlight. She sat atop the stone fence that encircled the property, watching Ren fora moment before she fluttered down from her perch. Had Mushroom not already vanished beneath the boughs of a nearby bush, the resultant gale that stirred beneath the raven’s dizzying wingspan would’ve chased him off just as swiftly. That is, if it hadn’t simply sent him flying.
“Message for Ren from your favorite cousin, Thorn,” squawked the raven in imitation of Thorn’s voice. “Just wanted to check in and see how things are going with the…”The raven made a low clicking sound in the back of her throat. No doubt, Thorn had once again made some sort of gesture while dictating the message, forgetting, as always, that ravens, while excellent at repeating words, could only do just that. “…the pretty lady. My atelier remains open to you should you wish to avail yourself of my, ahem,extensiveknowledge of cross-cultural dating.”
Extensive?Ren’s face flared hot as indignation punched into their throat. Of course, this idiot would think himself an expert after having dated a single gnome, who, for the record, had been perfectly lovely, whip-smart and forthright in that very gnomish way that people of different ancestries often found culturally off-putting. Ren had liked Towi. But Pansy? Absolutely not.
“On a less fun note, Nana wanted me to tell you that other croplands may also have been affected by the run-off. It’s hard to say for certain right now, but the yields seem to be dropping. We’re going to try a couple of purifying potions and see if that does the trick. But maybe you can take a look next time you come by? End message.”
The angry heat that had suffused Ren’s being faltered, drowned in an icy tide. Their stomach shriveled in on itself, their breakfast turning leaden in the hollow of their gut.
“Reply?” squawked the raven, now in a distinctly less-Thorn-like timbre.
“Yes, please,” Ren said, swallowing the knot that had twistedin their throat. “Message for Thorn from Ren,” they began, as messages sent via raven always did. “There is no ‘pretty lady’, much less any ‘things’ that could be happening with one. So, please do us both a favor and allow this subject to die the death it so deserves. Please tell Nana that the beans are growing well. I should be able to bring by the first harvest sometime in the next ten-day, at which point I’ll plant another. Hopefully, by prioritizing a quick-growing crop we’ll be able to make up for any decreased yields. End of message.”
The raven clacked her beak a few times, as if to say,Message received. However, she didn’t budge after that, her talons firmly planted in the shallow groove between two rows of budding Running Beans.
Ah, right. Ren dug around in their pocket for a moment until their fingers brushed against the handful of shelled peanuts they kept on-hand for moments like these. Scooping one out, they cracked it open with the tip of one claw and held it out to the waiting raven.
“For your service,” they said. Then, deciding that the poor bird deserved a little bit extra – she’d had to deal with Thorn, after all – Ren reached back into their pocket and pulled out another two shells, which they split open just as deftly.
The raven gobbled down the proffered peanuts with a lightning swiftness, nearly snagging the fleshy part of Ren’s palm between her beak in the process.
They chuckled. “It’s like we don’t feed you at all,” they said, gently stroking the top of her head with the side of one finger. “You know, Thorn likes to keep peanuts in his pockets too. Feel free to help yourself to them once you return to him. I’m certain he won’t mind.”
A new gleam rising to her eye, the raven let out a throatycaw of thanks and turned around with a few not-quite-graceful hops. Realizing what was about to happen, Ren scooted backwards; this particular lesson was not one they were keen to re-learn, having already thoroughly committed it to memory in their youth. The raven’s wings unfurled with an awe-inspiring flourish, a great black shadow stretching nearly as wide as Ren was tall. Two pumps, and she was in the air, soaring over the fence and into the forest beyond – thought not without nearly taking the head off a strange halfling making her way up the forest path.
Oh, mercy. No. Not another halfling. Ren nearly groaned as the halfling in question let out a high-pitched shriek, dropping to the ground like a stone.What did I do to deserve this?they wondered, looking up at the sky, cloudless and blue and far too cheery for the sort of day this was rapidly turning out to be.
“Sorry,” the halfling said, smoothing out the few curls that had gotten loose from her thick, yellow braid, “that was just – that was averybig bird.”
“Yes,” Ren said flatly. “Ravens are large birds.”
“Right. Um.” The halfling coughed into her fist and, readjusting her grip on the colorful bouquet she carried – hydrangeas, roses and lilies dotted with sword fern and lemon leaf – approached the wrought-iron gate in front of her. “I’m Blossom,” she said, forcing a smile that looked almost waxy in the light. “Pansy’s friend. Is she home?”
Ren barely managed to choke down another groan. First, the kitten; now, another halfling. How many extra guests was Pansy planning on dragging into their home? “Their”, of course, referred exclusively to Ren in this instance; because while Pansy did technically live at the cottage, this was an entirely temporary arrangement. She’d leave soon enough. Ren would makecertain of it. Somehow.
But for now…
Ren jerked a thumb to the door and said, “She’s inside.”
“Oh, wonderful. Thank you.” Taking Ren’s answer as an invitation – which Ren supposed it was – Blossom eased aside the gate with one pale hand and headed up the cobbled path to the front door.
She was about to close her fingers around the heavy iron knocker, which had been fashioned into a wreath of aconite, when she paused, lips pursing as if evaluating a new flavor. Then, turning back towards Ren, she asked, “Your name is Ren, right?”
“Yes,” Ren answered slowly, not entirely sure where this was going – and whether they were going to like it, given the glimmer in Blossom’s blue eyes.
She smiled. “Pansy’s told me a lot about you.”
Ren nearly choked. “She – she has?” Nothing good, surely. Pansy didn’t like them; much like they didn’t like her. And still something stirred beneath their breast, sending a rush of warmth all the way up to the tips of their ears, which then gave a traitorous twitch.
“Oh, yes. You were all she could talk about when she came to visit. In fact, she told me that— Oh!”
Of all the times Mushroom could have picked to make his entrance, this proved to be the winning option. He sauntered out of the bush with a triumphant yowl, chest puffed high and mighty, as if he hadn’t just made an expedient retreat. Evidently, he recognized Blossom – which made perfect sense: Pansy had said she’d gotten him from a friend – because he trotted over to her and pressed the full length of his body against her bare calf.
For some reason, Ren didn’t like this. The heat in their chestturned sour, and they snapped, “Come here, Mushroom.”
But Mushroom was a cat, and cats, as Ren was beginning to understand, did not do anything except on their own terms. And right now, Mushroom wanted to be with Blossom, so that’s where he would stay, stuck to her leg like half-dried sap.
