L e l a p i n  e t  l e  t r é s o r

Kept hidden and safe underneath the curtains of her tent is a crystal shard from a fallen star nestled into the fur of her back, only to be taken out on the second full moon of a month.


A blooming caspia flower grows outwards from inside her and is said to have magical properties when taken like tea. 

Properties in the like of giving one the knowing in when a comet is passing by the atmosphere without seeing it, or hearing the beating wings of a hummingbird’s first flight when closing one’s eyes...


Tied to her left foot is a pouch of loose stardust, to be unopened and preserved inside the linen linings so to keep its luck. A lucky rabbit foot loses its luck when parted from the rabbit, as does her dust.


Maybe you will be lucky enough to spot her hopping around and wandering your glen as the sun starts to set.

E a m o n n  t h e F o w l e r  T o a d
G u a r d i a n  o f  t h e  R i c h e s

The nearing arrival of spring welcomes his watch, there at the pond where lilies open in the night, where the fallen flower petals gather after a great wind has blown them to meet with a starry reflected pond.


There you may find him sitting upon a floating green cloud-like lily pad of his choosing, croaking a deep and rich song of the earth, with old and forgotten stories stored in his inflated belly.


Catch the moon light's glimmer in his eye, and the dragonflies will whisper in your ear a secret...

A o d h á n  t h e  W i l d  R e d  F o x

On a warm crescent moon-lit summer evening, he discovered a farm house not far off from an old wall that traces miles of meadowed land and wild grasses. So to not wake the resident creatures and leave tracings of his padded pathing, he took from the ground four dew stained petals that had fallen from a very beautiful foxglove plant.


He placed them on all four of his paws and trotted quietly toward the out-door wooden pen part of the farm found off to the most western side. All the hens, including the fiercest of the crew, were inside sleeping peacefully in their nesting crates of hay.


There lying on the tall open grass he spotted three eggs. One egg had a small squiggly crack on its pointy end, the second had more freckles, and the third with a slightly golden sheen, no crack, and no spots at all. He plopped all three into his now full mouth, and without any witnesses he made his way back to the quiet wooded forest unseen.


Once there, he gently placed the hen eggs down upon the wet earthen ground. He sat, foxglove petals now off - well all but one - with his legs out and tail fluffed behind, gazing upon his newfound treasures for some time. The gold one had his particular attention. It beckoned him in. His belly rumbled and a glisten was found in his eyes. He sniffed the golden egg just before picking it up with his teeth and biting softly into the yolk-filled egg.


It had a sort of sweetened taste like no other he has had before. He licked his teeth and lips with a warm content before finding himself rather sleepy. There he curled up, quite full enough and happy with himself, and drifted off into a deep sleep of dreams...


Sometime soon after he drifted off, a little green sprout appeared from under the fur of his belly. How? From baby sprout to a full-grown flowering plant it grew and grew as he passed from one dream world into the next through the long night. It appeared to be a growing foxglove, like the one his little petaled gloves fell from. Could it be the egg he swallowed was a magical one?...