The Seam Sorceress

Hearth and Home, part 3.

Come the harvest, the leaves of the paw-paw tree stood out something fierce in the forest—a bright, rusting yellow, with a smell like the green peppers from Sprout's garden. Tilly pinched her skirt to make a basket and filled it full while Booger snapped at boughs that sagged under the weight of their fruit.

Carrying their bounty back to the hearth, Tilly spread out the red cloak like a picnic blanket and they ate their fill. Booger sniffed out some flint around the crick, and Tilly struck it against the flat side of Granny's sewing scissors to make a fire, muttering both prayers and apologies at every spark that didn't take. She heard a snickering behind her as a handful of dead leaves started smoking. "What's so funny?"

"Them wings." A bit of mashed paw-paw dripped from Booger's mouth as she grinned. "You never took 'em off."

With a sigh, Tilly reached behind her, grabbed a handful of something that felt like Mama's nicest silk hose, and pulled as hard as she could. Stitches popped and the wings came loose in her hand. 

They were pale pink, with blue beadwork that shifted to near-white in certain lights, shaped like a schoolgirl's bow or butterfly wings. Tilly ripped them apart and fed them to the growing embers. "Figures. People never could get them right."

Booger rolled onto her side, paws curling. "What'd they really look like?"

"Honest, I don't rightfully know." Tilly blew into the fire with cupped hands. "Just know Mama used to get real mad when she saw pictures of Fey Folk with little crawly critter wings tacked on. Half the time they're too dinky to fly. Like strapping maple seeds to a cow."

"Oh."

"Mmhm." As the fire grew to a size where it could mind itself, Tilly moved aside and braced her back against the stone foundation. "Hope Lavender's all right. I dunno what would've happened if she hadn't given us the heads up."

"You know, I didn't wanna say this in front of her," Booger began, "But I'm pretty sure Lavender's a man."

"Don't think it's any of my business what she was or wasn't." Tilly's fingers slid down the chain at her neck to the gilded case at the end. She popped the lid off and emptied the contents—a single gold sewing needle—into her waiting palm, crisscrossed with angry, still-healing scars from the Ferris wheel. "She was dressed like a lady and she didn't object to being called 'ma'am' so I reckon that's good enough for me."

"Guess that makes as much sense as anything else." The dog turned onto her back with a stretch so good it made her whole body shake. "After all, no matter what I am on the outside, on the inside I'm still Booger."

"Always have been, always will be." Untying the bindle, Tilly smoothed the McGregor's quilt across her lap, matching it up to the cut of batting she'd gotten from Ma Hubbard's. "For better or worse, Lord help us."

"Yep." Booger's paws paddled through the air before the hidden slight of Tilly's words struck her. She vaulted onto her side with a jolt and a sneeze. "Hey—!"

Tilly only shook her head, biting back a laugh as she set to work. "Don't you got a bee to chase somewhere?"

"Real funny," Booger deadpanned as she padded over and curled up at her owner's feet. "Wish I could turn into one and sting you for that smart mouth of yours."

"You wouldn't dare."

"You're probably right." The dog snuffed, opening one eye to lazily peer up at her. "But only on account of being comfortable right here."

Tilly filled the quiet of the next hour with her stitchwork, needle bobbing through calico and cotton stuffing like one of her sister's skipping stones across a pond. She hummed an old tune, unforgotten but unplaceable, and when she closed her eyes she was back home, near the stove with Mama and Sprout and long-lost Granny. Things were never good, but they were all right, and that was all Tilly had ever asked for.

The moon was slivered up by the treeline when Booger shot up, growling and hackles raised. "I heard something."

A drop of blood oozed from Tilly's finger. She'd stuck herself with the needle, something she hadn't done since she'd been a little girl. Shoving the injured thumb in her mouth, she glanced around the woods.

"Like a skunk or something?" she asked hopefully.

"No." Booger turned, putting herself between the treeline and Tilly. "Bigger. And it's coming this way."

At that answer, Tilly swallowed hard. She debated dousing the fire, but realized that whatever it was, she'd rather not face it in the dark. "What do we do?"

The dog was already lurking towards the edge of the clearing. Her spine heaved as she grew larger, more lupine, until she blotted out the moon on the horizon. "I'm gonna eet it, that's what I'm gonna do."

"Booger, no—"

The sight of something charging through the thicket stole the air from Tilly's lungs. As big as Booger was a wolf, it was even bigger, standing on four powerful legs, shaggy coat hiding hooves that gleamed like polished marble. At first, Tilly thought it was a stallion escaped from some rich man's stable, but as it staggered towards them, the firelight caught on its silvered horn.

Tilly's eyes welled with tears. A unicorn.

"Please, little red cloak," breathed the creature, and though his voice was little more than a whisper, it swelled to fit every corner of the clearing. "We must away. There isn't much time."

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Author's Note: Hi all! Update two of the shorter, much more frequent updates. I hope you don't mind! 

I also have a favor to ask... I'm really terrible at naming chapters, and 'The Red Cloak' was no exception, since -- as you've probably noticed -- it had little to do with the red cloak, LOL. If you have a better suggestion, please let me know! If I like it, I'll use it and give you a shoutout next update. Thanks!