The Seam Sorceress

Home, part 1.

It had been a long time since the fey-blooded lost their wings, but Tilly never once forgot how to fly. She watched the birds as she did her stitchwork on the porch, the way they'd dip down to taste the sweet water collected in the old rain barrel, settle on rusted barbed wire to sample some of her sister's green rampion fields, then take off over yonder to town. Though they were boundless, free to go anywhere, they always came back. Tilly thought that was admirable, a wisdom essential to flying.

Then—snap!—there came a close of pointed teeth around empty air as Booger made a lazy pass at a bumblebee circling above her perked ears.

Tilly gave a laugh and a shake of her head at the dog's antics. "Ain't gonna know what to do with yourself once you catch one."

"Gonna eet it, that's what I'll do," Booger said, tail thumping at the sound of her voice. 

"You do and your face will puff up like the chickens when we pick eggs." Tilly pulled the needle through the quilt square a final time and snapped off the thread in her mouth. The fuzzleberry from the concoction she'd stewed the spool in made her tongue feel like it was made out of dandelion seeds. She smothered back a grimace as she held the blanket up to inspect her handiwork. Pink and blue pinwheel flowers lined the edges. "Think this'll be done by the time Mrs. MacGregor's little one comes. Just gotta get more batting while we're in town tomorrow. What do you think?"

The dog's amber-colored eyes rolled towards the ancient rocking chair Tilly was sitting in, then to the blanket. "Ain't they expecting a boy?"

"Well, that's just what the old spinster told them."

"You know better'n to go against an old spinster," Booger countered.

"Ain't naysaying or nothing. Just think it's a mite better to be prepared for another possibility." Tilly swallowed hard in hopes it'd make the fuzzleberry go away. "Regardless, don't reckon the proud parents are gonna pay much mind to what the blanket looks like, so long as the magic in it makes sure the babe sleeps through the night."

Tilly waited for a reply but realized there wasn't going to be one when Booger padded down the front steps in pursuit of the bumblebee. She laughed and folded the quiltfront away. A trail of smoke further down the long dirt road caught her eye. The neighbors were out for a drive in their newfangled automobile, the machine shuddering with a bang-pop as it went over the hillside.

The screen door opened. Her sister, Sprout—Sulaline by birth, but what a name for such a little girl to carry, so Sprout she was—stepped out to join her. Like always, her hands and knees were muddy. In the shadow of the porch, her eyes looked like little more than the glass gems in Mrs. MacGregor's costume jewelry; sparkling, but artificial. "Can you come help me out back? I ain't gonna be able to load it up by myself after all."

"Yep. Just let me get Booger in and change clothes. I'll meet you there." Tilly stood from her seat, picking up the unfinished quilt and her sewing tin as the screen door banged behind her. "Booger—c'mon, git. We gotta help Sprout with the pumpkin."

Booger's spotted tail bobbed like a quail's plume through the tall grass before she made a last leap for the bumblebee. Tilly wasn't sure what the fate of the critter was until the dog came strutting out of the field, mouth closed.

"Well, you were gonna do it or bust wide open," Tilly sighed.

The victory was short-lived.

"Yow! What in tarnation—" Booger's snout contorted with pain, a slightly damp bumblebee flying confusedly from her mouth. They watched as it climbed higher in the sky, getting well out of reach. "It's got one o' them sharp pokey things!"