we're always running scared but holding knives
"I do see it," Isla confirms with a nod, though she opts not to mention that the sear cat looks as though it's already hunting something. (She doesn't know if Fern will feel the same way about the poor, starving thing when it emerges with a baby bird in its jaws). Understanding the circle of life feels like a little too much for day one as a walking, talking child, and it's with distraction in mind that the Remedy takes a couple of steps back from the window. "What if," she suggests, "we leave out a saucer of something for it? Then if it's hungry, it can come up and eat, and we can go from there?"
So saying, she crosses the room to their little kitchen, collecting a small plate and some shredded chicken from the fridge and raising her eyebrows towards Fern as if to ask if this is a reasonable compromise. "And in the meantime, if you want to be able to teach it to fetch, you should probably get some practice." The smile on her face does its best not to inch towards something too playful. "I'm sure your father knows where his favourite ball is, if you'd like to try it."
So saying, she crosses the room to their little kitchen, collecting a small plate and some shredded chicken from the fridge and raising her eyebrows towards Fern as if to ask if this is a reasonable compromise. "And in the meantime, if you want to be able to teach it to fetch, you should probably get some practice." The smile on her face does its best not to inch towards something too playful. "I'm sure your father knows where his favourite ball is, if you'd like to try it."
Isla
