in which meadow is sad about plants

The chill in the autumn morning air had not escaped Fern’s notice and she took time to clean and make a large fire in the family’s fireplace. After breakfast, she had retreated back to their room to tidy things up a bit since, having active pups, means there is less time to get rid of the excess fur that piles up in the corners of the room. With a tune on her lips and the balcony doors thrown wide open, the woman bustles about the room, happily cleaning in the warm sunlight. Puff is off making the rounds, keeping her eyes on the children while the gray wolf shakes out furs and makes sure the room cozy.

Suddenly, the small reddish-brown stoat races around the corner of the open door, skidding slightly in her haste to get to Fern. The moment her bright blue eyes catch her companion’s form, the woman’s heart plummets into her toes and concern colors her gaze as the gray woman shoots the question, “Trouble?” Fear paints her words, sharpening the words as she remembers the trouble her little Callie has gotten into within the borders of the Hallows. Puff shakes her head in the negative before saying, “Well, not danger. Little Meadow is in the garden and she looks really worried! I don’t think she understands what the plants are doing.”

For a moment, the gray wolf tilts her head as she tries to puzzle out the words before realization strikes her right between the eyes. Of course! This is the first time her children are experiencing Autumn season and, unless the parents teach them about what to expect, the pups have no idea. Giving a small nod to Puff, Fern warmly says, “Well, let’s go see if we can cheer her up.” The stoat nods, scrambling up her leg to take her perch between the wolf’s shoulder blades. Small paws twine into the fur there and the pair are off, quickly making their way downstairs and out into the castle courtyard.

It does not take long for the gray woman to spy the pale form of her daughter and she slows as she approaches Meadow. Fern knows that Meadow can be easily overwhelmed so she takes her time to approach in a slow, unhurried manner. With a soft, low voice she calls out, “Meadow? How are you doing sweet one? Tell me what you see?” A gentle smile is on her lips as she nears, kind eyes scanning her non-verbal child for signs of distress. Concern is obvious in the way she is inspecting the plants and the gray woman takes a moment to consider the best way to talk about what the approaching cold weather will bring as she pulls to a stop next to her daughter.


"Fern Carpathius" | "Puff"