His heart beating like a fist pounding a loose door, Bucky reiterated to the lady butterfly, ‘I am alright! I am quite alright!’ as she tossed aside her smoking log to pepper her hands all over the child, looking to see if any harm had been done. It was when the boy fussed back, and pushed her pretty hands away that she fluttered them back to her hips.
‘Are you so sure?’ she studied him, ‘Already he has taken a bite from you, I do not doubt he will do it again!’
‘Oh no, no!’ Bucky piped up, hastily correcting her, ‘It was not Clawfoot who took my leg!’
‘... Partly.’ he added, sheepishly.
‘’Partly?’’
And he told her all about Darcy, how the two had entered the Deep Woods that night hand in hand as one, and how they came to the cliff overlooking that throbbing sea under that full moon. He told her about Clawfoot, how he had been the beast that chased them apart into the waiting jaws of a trap laid by, what he assumed to be, a hunter. He told her about how it was Clawfoot who whisked him away, away on their current travels to find his beloved friend.
Across from him, Ceridwen sat listening intently upon the bold purple lounge chair, four arms crossed as the little boy continued on,
‘And that is when we came across such a flurry of butterflies, leading us to you for what reason, I do not know.’
‘They think I am terribly lonely, without my Abilene.’ the lady butterfly explained, ‘Of course, of all the company to find me, they found you two.’
She went on, ‘Though, you must be in quite the hurry, are you not?’
‘I am, but it seems as if Clawfoot wants to take as much time as he possibly can!’ the fair child complained, huffing roughly.
‘Curious… Perhaps he is just as lonely.’
‘It serves him right! He has no way with others!’
‘Now, now, do not be so mean.’ Ceridwen hushed him, standing up from her seat to stride back to the tiny kitchen to find a cup of spiced wine, no longer warm. She began to drink it anyhow, choosing to lean against the single table in the tiny kitchen as she faced the boy on the loveseat, now clinging to the back cushions to watch her.
‘He is a blackwell after all.’
‘I do not even know what a blackwell is!'
‘Why not ask your not-friend?’
A groan escaped the child, turning forward; away from her as silence fell between them. Ceridwen sipped her wine leaving Bucky to his own thoughts. A breadth past before she heard his southern drawl from over the loveseat,
‘You have not said much about your Abilene… Who was she?’
The lady butterfly ceased her supping, and placed down her cup upon the table. Voice full of longing, she sighed, ‘Abilene was the love of my eternal life, yet I left her still. I thought, perhaps, she should find someone like her- a mortal, of course. But I found myself longing for her embrace more than ever!’
‘How awful! Have you had any luck finding her again?’ Bucky asked, for his own sake.
‘My sisters have been looking faithfully, but these shuffling woods make the search difficult. The constant moving has hindered them greatly.’
‘... The woods move?’
Ceridwen waved a hand, ‘All woods move, dear, it comes with the spinning of the earth. They twist themselves around, that is why it is so easy to get lost.’
Oh, how awful! Bucky sat baffled, as it meant not only were they truly lost- but finding his beloved Darcy would be much more of a task than he had thought. If he were going to find his way back to the cliff, and back to the hamlet, he would have to put full faith into his companion. His companion, mind you, who could not care less about his plight!
As if on cue, a knock sounded at the door, alongside a familiar, unworldly voice, ‘I am getting quite bored out here,’ Clawfoot spoke from behind the cottage door, ‘are you done in there, Bucky?’
‘I am not speaking to you! You have done nothing but scare me half to death, not to mention laughing at my sorrow!’ The fair child called back, rather harshly. He waited for an answer; nothing came.
But then a ‘thump!’ of something heavy hitting the wooden porch shook the door, ‘... What?’ Clawfoot asked, confusion clear in his question.
‘You are scared? Of me?’
Bucky could not tell who was more bewildered: Clawfoot, who could not fathom the child being terrified of such a large beast, or Bucky himself, who could not believe that the blackwell had no idea. Stammering his words, he puffed up,
‘Of course! You have done nothing but be nasty to me, laughing at my misery… Good friends do not laugh when one is terribly sad! Let alone terrorize them by chasing them through the woods!’
‘... Is it too late to start over?’ The blackwell called back slowly through the door, which left the boy thinking.
Ceridwen intervened, striding to the door itself and placing one of her four hands to the doorknob, ‘I should think,’ she began, ‘that you have quite a journeys’ time to try again. But that is not up to me, is it?’ She turned to Bucky on the couch as she opened the door to reveal the blackwell behind it. Back in his shell, Clawfoot looked past the entrance to meet his gaze with the childs’, who looked rather piqued- arms crossed across his chest, and a single leg dangling off the loveseat.
‘Only if you promise not to terrorize me anymore!’ Bucky proposed, ‘ if we are to work together, you must not be such a terrible friend.’
Clawfoot raised a pinkie, closing his eyes, ‘I promise, as long as you show me what that means!’
Bucky raised a pinkie as well. Unable to cross their fingers, as the fair child could not stand with one leg, and Clawfoot could not fit his shell through the doorway- the two simply bent them in unison.
‘And,’ the tub spoke up afterwards, cracking open a blue eye, ‘That means you must not be such a stick in the mud!’
‘Why…!’ Bucky gaped, to the laughter of the blackwell who could not help himself. Watching the two, lady Ceridwen chuckled herself,
‘How touching, you two.’ She placed a hand over her mouth to hide her smirk from the child, ‘Now, I suppose there is some traveling to do!’