Uncle made a courtly bow, extending a feeler forward.

“After you.”

She took a deep breath and stepped onto the grass. Brella stood, looking small and bereft, her arms twisted. She raised a sorry hand.

“Hi,” Brella said.

Scratch rocked onto her toes, heart thrumming. “Hello.”

“This is lovely.” A woman’s throaty voice floated by, so jarringly not of the two-person world she and Brella currently occupied that Scratch couldn’t help but flinch. “See, Brella? You had nothing to worry about.”

“Yes,” Brella muttered. “Thank you, Aunt.”

The woman approached, holding an arm out for Uncle. Her skin was pale white with a light violet tint. Her iridescent, sunset-pink hair fell down her slender back in thick, glossy ringlets. She peered at Scratch with slow-blinking, green-lashed eyes, and smirked with lips as soft and lovely as rose petals. From just below her chin to the tips of her toes, a thick carpet of wildflowers coated her entire body. Even her hands sported little bouquets. She stood on her tiptoes to give Uncle a kiss on the tip of his oblong head. He might have been a bug, but the fae could still blush, pink staining the green of his cheeks.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, soldier.” The flower woman regarded her with cool, green eyes. “Brella didn’t give me your name, but I’ve heard a great deal about you. Granted, it was through tears and screaming, but I reckon I’ve got a pretty good idea of what you’re about.”

“Um.” She scratched the back of her head. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

“Well, we’d best be off.” Uncle gave another of his well-practiced bows, extending a feeler for Scratch to take. “It was a joy making your acquaintance, young traveler.” He kissed the top of her hand. His lips were stiff, and Scratch had the distinct impression of being prodded by two wooden spoons.

Aunt approached slowly, rose-colored eyes narrowed and arms outstretched. As she walked, she left footprints of wildflowers in her wake: perfect, oblong flower beds of pinks and purples, yellows and reds.

Scratch accepted her tentative hug, flowers like butterfly wings caressing her skin.

As soon as their bodies touched, Aunt tensed her fingers, digging in to Scratch’s flesh. “Don’t leave again,” Aunt hissed in her ear. “You don’t know what you’ll bring back from out there. And I swear to you, if you hurt Brella, if you lure anything dangerous to her, I will kill you.” Aunt squeezed tighter, small thorns popping from her hands, piercing the top layer of Scratch’s skin. “We fair folk don’t abide by the same rules as humanity, you know. I will kill you and I will enjoy it. Do not wait to see whether I am lying. Trust that I am not.”

She pulled back with a beatific smile, thorns retracting into her fingers, leaving Scratch shaking.