#zoolinguistics

“Psst. Hey-- kid. Over here.”

Alright, maybe the adult man in the trench coat and hat calling the Eika over to a dark alley was a bit of a bad call, especially with most of his face hidden in shadows, and the thin hand beckoning.

“Don’t see many of your kind around here.”  It wasn’t usual to see one of the Fae outside of the deep woods, much less willingly approaching someone else.  The church had made their opinion of the inhuman creatures known and the general vampire population often sought to use anything and everything at their disposal.  No Fae wanted to be caught by them. 

But the Eika were safe, or as safe as anybody could be.  Even lone wanderers like this one had no reason to run to the enemies Roxanne might have feared.   Reclining on a tree branch she watched him curiously.  

“Ho ho! ‘Tis my favorite fine-eared fellow, come to grace me with his presence once again.”

Nightshade popped the Dream Root -- which had moments before been forming into a nightmare -- into his pipe and took a long draw. He exhaled it in what looked like a cloud of butterflies.

“I got you something. It’s not much, but--”

But it seemed to be a big squishy ball; well, not that big in her hand, but bigger in his. It was smooth and cold, and the inside was touched with something colorful and green; a frog, or a few frogs, suspended in some sort of gelatin.