cnida

Of all the seasons, Plumeria liked winter the best. The stillness of the air, the serene silence of the world around her, the way the stars shone unabashed through the clear night sky… the winter was her favorite time of year. However, if unrestricted from those four categories, another time held her utmost reverence. The silvery twilight time between winter and spring, where the air was still still but crackled with an unseen energy, where the determined growing of new plants pushed up through the lethargic blanket of white, where all of life yawned and stretched, rubbing its eyes as it prepared for a new year of bustle and chaos. Plumeria, too, was waking up again. Bits of snow melted off her matted green fur, water cascading down her long neck and stout legs. The light purple flowers growing out of her back drunk in the morning sunlight, waving gently in the breeze. Her silent vigil was over, and it was time to see what her boundary offered to her. She took off at a slow pace

Mikaila may have been scatterbrained, but even this was beyond her. Her once semi-organized spice rack was toppled and ransacked, her bag of walnuts was sliced open and, upon further inspection, full of only the empty shells, and she wept for the mustard rolls she had left to cool. She had gone to bed in a quiet house, and awoke to chaos. What could do such a thing? She hadn’t had such a trashed house ever since she invited over strangers to a cook-off. Wasn’t her fault they took the opportunity to eat her out of house and home, anyway… Mikaila sniffed the air, hoping for a clue. The pungent smell that wafted from the destruction confirmed her suspicions. An imp! Those mischievous creatures were always getting in the way. Regular rodent traps didn’t work on ‘em; they were too smart, and their shapeshifting abilities made them especially crafty. And once they found a place to hide? Good luck. She padded around the kitchen, hoping to see any tracks, but the imp must’ve transformed