![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Fǫnn has been checking up on Loki's cottage while he is away periodically, tidying up here and there, making sure the weeds and vines aren't overtaking it too much. There is no need or desire for a mowed lawn or a manicured flower bed; berry brambles are allowed to climb the wooden fences beside the meadow and mice and snakes are welcome in the woodpile, but the children's play equipment is kept cobweb-free, and anything living in the chimney gets promptly, if gently, evicted.
So it's a surprise to her when she enters one afternoon to check that the electricity and water are running properly, and finds the sofa a mess, cushions askew, stuffing on the floor, with tiny sounds coming from within the framework. An investigation turns up a little of kittens, eyes-open but not quite weaned, in an array of colors, each with a pair of bitty feathered wings.
She's seen the winged cats around this place before, but they seem to keep to themselves. She never imagined they'd sneak inside for any purpose. Unwilling to just snatch the babies away, she sets out a little food and water and waits. No sign of a mother appears before she leaves for the evening, and the next day when she returns to check, the food and drink are untouched.
A lot of things can happen to a small animal in the Nexus, this close to the Wilds. Maybe the mother's uncharacteristic behavior in hiding the babies indoors is a sign she was in danger? Or maybe winged cats lay eggs and they just never realized? She doubts that, but stranger things have happened.
She carefully removes the outer layer from the sofa and extracts all the kittens, checking them for injuries or illness. The rest of the day, and the next, are taken up with treating eye infections and fleas, feeding them with eyedroppers and preening their wings. Not until they're reasonably healthy does she wander to the edge of the plaza with a box of mewing and purring and flapping wings. On the edge of the box, she puts a sign that reads: CATWINGS: UNFLEDGED, NEED RESPONSIBLE HOMES.
She has no intention of charging anyoneto adopt, of course, but she's not eager to give them away to someone untrustworthy, either.
So it's a surprise to her when she enters one afternoon to check that the electricity and water are running properly, and finds the sofa a mess, cushions askew, stuffing on the floor, with tiny sounds coming from within the framework. An investigation turns up a little of kittens, eyes-open but not quite weaned, in an array of colors, each with a pair of bitty feathered wings.
She's seen the winged cats around this place before, but they seem to keep to themselves. She never imagined they'd sneak inside for any purpose. Unwilling to just snatch the babies away, she sets out a little food and water and waits. No sign of a mother appears before she leaves for the evening, and the next day when she returns to check, the food and drink are untouched.
A lot of things can happen to a small animal in the Nexus, this close to the Wilds. Maybe the mother's uncharacteristic behavior in hiding the babies indoors is a sign she was in danger? Or maybe winged cats lay eggs and they just never realized? She doubts that, but stranger things have happened.
She carefully removes the outer layer from the sofa and extracts all the kittens, checking them for injuries or illness. The rest of the day, and the next, are taken up with treating eye infections and fleas, feeding them with eyedroppers and preening their wings. Not until they're reasonably healthy does she wander to the edge of the plaza with a box of mewing and purring and flapping wings. On the edge of the box, she puts a sign that reads: CATWINGS: UNFLEDGED, NEED RESPONSIBLE HOMES.
She has no intention of charging anyoneto adopt, of course, but she's not eager to give them away to someone untrustworthy, either.
