Word Count: 376
Pixie had returned to reading the book when she caught a bit of white fur outside the window. Looking up, she smiled back and waved at the giggling pup. She recognized her as Fia, one of Jazper and Ghita’s children. But she doubted Fia would remember her; the last time they had really crossed paths, her eyes hadn’t even been open. Since then, Pixie had practically gotten into a fight—albeit verbally, not physically—with the girl’s father, and had yelled at her brother after he pulled a prank on her that awoke her hatred of snow. Maybe Fia was easier to get along with.
She got up from the chair, leaving the book there, and walked outside, grabbing her red coat from the hanger before she opened the door. “Hey there, Fia,” she called to the young girl as she descended the front porch steps and stopping at the bottom, preferring to stay on the muddy grass as opposed to the snow. She stood on one foot at a time, jumping from one to another on the cold ground. “I don’t think you remember me—the name’s Pixie Frost. I haven’t seen you much since you were a puny little thing.” Quickly the blue-furred fae counted the months since the pups’ birth in her head. It had been the end of October…that was more than five months ago. Another month, give or take some time, and they could begin shifting. Of course, there was no way to predict exactly when that would happen. Pixie herself had been lucky; she had first woken up in her Optime form on the exact day she turned six months. It would be another few weeks before her littermates were able to shift.
“Here, you wanna come inside?” she asked, gesturing towards the front door. She’d rather they not stay outside for a long time, if they were just going to stand in front of the manor chatting, instead of riding or hunting, at the very least, finding a nice place to sit and play guitar or read. She might have been able to stand in the cold if there was alcohol involved, but she knew it wasn’t a smart idea to share a bottle of whiskey with a puppy.
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