“Let’s go, Hawthorne.”
She doesn’t move straight away, studying me instead. Searching my face for something I don’t intend to give her. She steps into stride beside me, quiet for half a corridor.
“I found a rustcap today,” she says, breaking the silence. I glance at her, unsure why she’s telling me this.
“Did you?”
“Yes.” She tucks her hands into the sleeves of her tunic. “In one of the soil beds. It was really cute. I’ve seen nothing like it.”
“I haven’t seen one in years.”
“Thomas said most of them died off.”
“They did. It’s rare to get close enough to see one.”
“Well, it sat by my side all afternoon.” That makes me stop.
They are very timid creatures. They flee or burrow into the soil if they so much as sense a person approaching.
“You’re certain?” I ask.
“Yes,” she nods, as if this were entirely reasonable. “I was clearing the dead leaves and it just… stayed. Just watched me.”
“Rustcaps do not watch,” I say flatly. She smiles faintly.
“Well, this one did.” The doors to the food hall loom ahead. Pushing one open, the conversation dips briefly as we enter. She doesn’t notice, though. “Maybe it liked me,” she continues, following me. “I wish we had rustcaps back home.”
“No, you don’t” I respond almost immediately. She almost walks straight into a passing knight carrying a tray. I catch her elbow before she collides with him.
“Careful, Hawthorne.” She moves closer to me, her cheeks glowing pink.
“Right, sorry.” Reaching past her to take two bowls, I scoop up some soup and place it on a tray.
“Why don’t I want a rustcap back home?” she says, obviously still fixated on this topic. Guiding her to a table, she takes a seat opposite me as I place her food in front of her.
“They hum.”
She lets out a small giggle. “They what?”
“When they’re content,” I reply. “They let out a low, vibrating hum.”
“That sounds…adorable. Now I want one even more.”
“It isn’t,” I reply. She takes a spoonful of soup and blows on it gently.
“Imagine trying to sleep and you’ve got a bunch of rustcaps by your window humming away into the night.” I try to explain. But she just chuckles softly. I reach past her, moving her drink away from the edge of the table.
“You’re lying.”
“I am not.”
She wrinkles her nose, “I think you just dislike that you can’t command them, Warden.” She dips her bread into the stew and glances at me, her eyes teasing. I hold her gaze longer than necessary.
“I wouldn’t attempt to command a fungus.”
“Mhm,” she replies, raising an eyebrow at me.
“They hum,” I repeat.
